Ukrainian director Sergei Loznitsa’s filmography seemingly captures lessons of history that come with an inherent warning. Loznitsa, who believes that “none of the existing societies, no matter how advanced and democratic, are immune to authoritarianism and dictatorship” could not have picked a better time to remind the world of this notion. Exploring this view with the Great Purge, under Joseph Stalin in the 1930s, Two Prosecutors investigates the effects of ravenous fearmongering through tactics of terror. This story of civic injustice isn’t just a great achievement by the director. It’s a cautionary tale about the repetition of tragic moments in history.

The setting is 1937 Soviet Union, during which a clear divide progresses among the civilians. The Bolsheviks want to maintain order and liberation for the working class, while the regime holds fast to totalitarianism. For some time, the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs, also known as the NKVD, had been rounding up civilians, most of whom were accused of crimes against the regime. Later determined as falsehoods, these detainees crafted letters to inform the outside world of what had been going on in the unkempt prisons.

Loznitsa's Stunning Adaptation Gives Us A Glimpse Of Stalin's Reign Of Terror

These letters never make it, however. A malnourished prisoner was tasked with burning these inscriptions. Abiding by these orders seems easy to obey, as any onlooker could guess that these prisoners aren’t treated with much humanity. But there’s something about one of the letters. Aside from the fact that it’s written in blood, it’s the inmate’s one chance to resist the regime. Perhaps this act of defiance could gain his eventual freedom. Maybe it’s to clasp onto any residual hope. Either way, the best-case scenario happens: this mysterious blood-written letter finds its way to the local prosecutor’s office.

Aleksandr Kuznetsov enters the story as Kornyev, the gallant young prosecutor whose intelligence and ethics shine through from his first encounter with the prison guards. Upon receiving the famous letter, Kornyev’s visit comes with one unwavering demand: to see its author, prisoner Ivan Stepanovich, mostly referred to as Stepniak (Alexander Filippenko). The guards did all they could to delay Kornyev from speaking with the prisoner. Oddly enough, these encounters are humorous even with devastation nearby. Eventually, Kornyev learns about the brutal beatings, malnourishment, and torture conducted by the NKVD during his discussion with Stepniak. He vows to get justice.

In The Pursuit Of Justice In Two Prosecutors, The Script Calls For Deceptive Hope

The second part of this film boasts some truly appalling revelations that Loznitsa weaves throughout. Were it not for Kornyev’s unwavering ideology to do what’s right, you would almost want to poke him incessantly to get him to reconsider his actions. That’s the kind of atmosphere that plagues Kornyev’s every move, leading to the chills that are bound to travel up your spine upon viewing Two Prosecutors. With every semblance of hope as Kornyev inches further toward justice, there is a more affecting paranoia lurking around the corner to pivot us away from that desire.

Loznitsa’s slow-burn drama may come with heavy bouts of dialogue, but this is the film’s strength. When long pauses break between these sequences, utter silence accompanies it, leading to a sense of sheer dread. Music is also rare throughout the film, which leans into the depressing climate already built by the revelation of the prison conditions. We’re conditioned to find a symphony in the clanking of prison gates and doors to strengthen the bleak tone. When a score does finally break through, so does the deception of hope, leading us to feel even more defeated than when the film began.

With every semblance of hope as Kornyev inches further toward justice, there is a more affecting paranoia lurking around the corner to pivot us away from that desire.

Two Prosecutors is an adaptation of Gulag survivor Georgy Demidov’s book of the same name, which was originally written in 1969 and later published in 2009. Like the original work, we’d be fools to suspect a happy ending here, especially considering the film opens by declaring the events take place during “the height of Stalin’s terror.” What you should expect is an impressive feature from Loznitsa with equally remarkable performances led by Aleksandr Kuznetsov.

This isn’t just a story about injustice, it’s a history lesson. And thanks to the talented Loznitsa, who brings his skill as a documentary filmmaker to this depiction, he all but gives us the blueprint on how and why we must continue to cope with the problems of the world in new ways to avoid repeating some of our darkest moments in history.