There’s been a notable lack of “inspirational teacher” films as of late, and the Gen Z generation has yet to have its Good Will Hunting, Stand and Deliver, or Dead Poets Society. Most educational institutions are trapped with one cultural war or another, and colleges are ill-equipped to impress any knowledge upon a graduating class that would prepare them for a job market. That university graduation is now perceived as a burden, and not an opportunity, may explain why today’s college-centric shows are farcical (Community), genre-slanted (Gen V), sensationalist (The Sex Lives of College Girls), or melodramatic (Tell Me Lies). Teachers are left out of the equation entirely.
Vladimir explores the confluence of generations and worldviews that coalesce in a campus setting. It’s often the professors who are most subjected to public criticism, and become scapegoats for issues beyond their control. Based on the novel of the same name by Julia May Jones, Vladimir’s title is a reference to a charismatic young English professor played by Leo Woodall, who’s become a minor campus celebrity because of his work in literature. Vladimir has attracted many students, as well as the unnamed protagonist of the series played by Rachel Weisz.
While Weisz’s character is a tenured professor with a strong foundation in literary history, her traditionalist approach to the arts has run afoul of the undergrads, who are unwilling to hear the phrase “it was a very different time.” That the character doesn’t have the ambition of mobility is less damning than her bludgeoned reputation, which resulted from a scandal that involved her husband, John (John Slattery). John was the chair of the English department, but was placed under investigation for sexual contact with students. John’s claim that the relationships were all consensual isn’t contested, but he’s privy to concerns about an imbalance of power. A progressive mind might point out that a wife shouldn’t take blame because of her husband’s actions, but at a small, insular liberal arts university where diversity of opinion isn’t encouraged, she’s hated by nearly everyone; her one defender is Vladimir, who she’s also found herself smitten with.
The fourth-wall breaking technique of a character talking directly to the camera has been abused in the last decade by writers who’ve taken it upon themselves to craft the next Deadpool or Fleabag. What made the aforementioned examples so irritating is that the characters addressed the audience with a sense of superiority, where they implied that they were intellectually above the parameters of the story that they were trapped within. It’s more effective in Vladimir because Weisz’s character is so frequently disregarded that no one’s bothered to refer to her by her name. She doesn’t receive any support from her students, who can’t stomach an analysis of Tony Morrison’s Beloved, but she’s too outspoken in her concerns about university policy to befriend fellow professors David (Matt Walsh) or Florence (Miriam Silverman). When even her words are misconstrued by her daughter Sid (Ellen Robertson), the enigmatic point-of-view character is left to embrace an internal monologue where apologizing for insecurity isn’t taken as a weakness or admittance.
The irony in Vladimir is that universities have become compressed. This is reflected within the show’s narrative approach; episodes run approximately 30 minutes, and the window of opportunity for Weisz’s character to avoid rebuke has only grown thinner. The series isn’t set over an extended period of time, but its lead has become so obsessed with the handsome stranger that she’s taken to analyzing any minor interaction in the case that it might point to something deeper. Jones, who developed the adaptation of her novel, has played a careful game of ambiguity with any interactions between its leads.
Weisz is a character who’s not combative, but has defied any attempts to mitigate her authority. While she’d never claim to be the definitive expert on modern literature, she does become haughty when engaged in debate with those who don’t take the time to read. It’s why her dynamic with Vladimir is interesting, because her attraction isn’t purely a result of his physical presentation. Vladimir’s young and enthusiastic about the future, but studied enough to have an intellectually stimulating conversation. Vladimir’s found a way to exist in the modern school system without sacrificing his convictions, and that’s a combination that his older admirer has desired more than anything.
The chemistry between Weisz and Woodall is able to make some of the more familiar story beats tolerable, but Vladimir is also peppered with supporting actors that elevate roles that could’ve been one-note. Slattery’s performance is fascinating because of what it isn’t; he isn’t jaded or pompous about his slandered reputation, but indifferent about the judgment of a system of checks-and-balances that he doesn’t respect. That there’s never any tension between him and Weisz, since both characters are comfortable with extramarital relations, removed the show’s capacity for exasperating exchanges where one character was clearly in the wrong.
Vladimir is compelling up until its final episode, in which the wheels fall off and the show’s framing device is revealed to have no pay off. It’s the type of finale that may negatively color some of the more haphazard plot points early on, particularly given that there are members of the ensemble that are undeveloped. Still, Vladimir is breezy, watchable, and willing to start a conversation, which is more than most Netflix originals.