Vladimir emerges as a rare gem on television – sophisticated viewing crafted for discerning adults. This eight-part adaptation of Julia May Jonas’s provocative 2022 debut novel of the same name boldly embraces the qualities that distinguished the book – its dark humor, stark insights, and incisive critique of societal norms – seamlessly translating them into the new format. The screenwriter, Jeanie Bergen, whose deep understanding of the source material is evident, skillfully preserves Jonas’s wit, confidence, and, critically, her willingness to explore moral ambiguities and revel in the intricate challenges inherent in middle age.
Adding to its strength is Rachel Weisz, who delivers an exceptionally compelling performance as the unnamed central character, a respected tenured English professor. Her husband, John (portrayed by John Slattery, who, while often typecast, performs this role with such skill that it’s hard to object to seeing it again), also a tenured academic at the same institution, has recently been suspended for relationships with students. His defense rests on the claim that these events occurred “before the rules changed.” This phrase, “It was a different time,” frequently recurs – not only from John (signaling Jonas and Bergen’s early commitment to challenging expectations) but also from his wife and various male and female colleagues and peers.
Weisz’s character has always been aware of John’s romantic liaisons. As she explains, they’ve always maintained “an arrangement – what kids today would call an open marriage, but without all the awful communication.” This particular line is a standout, a quote so perfectly crafted that one might wish to savor it as a timeless piece of wisdom, compressing an entire generational divide into the words of a character who prioritizes intellect over sentiment.
It is precisely this intellectual bent that leaves her unprepared for an unexpected infatuation with Vladimir (Leo Woodall), the new, vibrant young arrival at work. He’s engaging, charming, and subtly flirtatious – but is it directed solely at her, or at everyone? He is also married to Cynthia, another bright, dynamic young woman who is herself on the path to an English professorship and an increasingly appealing choice for the protagonist’s students. The growing influence of students in shaping adult destinies, not just through sexual harassment complaints but by their course enrollment choices, adds another intricate layer to the evolving plot.
However, it is the contrasting generational perspectives on John’s actions that generate the most dramatic tension. As more complaints emerge, our professor finds herself assailed by rumors, conflicting viewpoints, and the challenging task of navigating between self-preservation (which includes protecting John, if only to secure his pension), safeguarding her family (particularly her daughter Sid, played by Ellen Robertson), and pursuing justice.
But what exactly does justice entail? In one of her many direct addresses to the camera – a device that, while often clunky in lesser productions, works flawlessly here – Weisz reflects on John’s accusers, stating, “It’s very hard for me to understand how consensual affairs that were fun not despite of the power dynamic but because of it could be thought of as hurtful or damaging after the fact. As a fellow female, I’m a little offended.”
Later, in a conversation with the college president’s wife, as she tries to delay the harassment hearing until John’s retirement, they reminisce fondly about their own past affairs with lecturers, echoing the sentiment, “It was a different time.” Are they merely deluding themselves, protecting their own pasts, or unearthing an uncomfortable erotic truth at the heart of this shared human experience? Earlier, our protagonist noted her diminishing likelihood of wielding power – be it sexual, intellectual (as she fruitlessly attempts to connect her students with Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca, only for them to fixate on the misogyny of its era), or otherwise – at her age. So, are her actions fueled by envy or rage?
The series delves into all these complexities. A significant part of its impact lies in its unwavering assertion that none of us are entirely pure in our motives, clear in our conscience, or completely honest with ourselves or others; nor do we consistently treat life with the reverence it deserves or others with the compassion they require. We are inherently multifaceted, and life rarely conforms to simple binaries. And regardless of what young people believe now, they too will come to understand this profound truth – likely sooner than they anticipate.