The evening in Venice carried a different weight when Jude Law appeared on the red carpet of the 82nd Venice International Film Festival. He arrived for the premiere of The Wizard of the Kremlin, Olivier Assayas’ new film adapted from Giuliano da Empoli’s novel. The story looks at the rise of Vladimir Putin through the eyes of a fictional spin doctor, Vadim Baranov, and explores how truth and lies can be shaped into power. It sits neatly within our Venice 82 lineup guide, which maps this year’s themes and returning masters.

At the press conference, Law spoke with calm precision about the role. “I hope not naively, but I didn’t fear repercussions,” he said. “I felt confident, in the hands of Olivier and the script, that this story was going to be told intelligently and with nuance and consideration. We weren’t looking for controversy for controversy’s sake. It’s a character in a broader story. We weren’t trying to define anything about anyone.”

His approach avoided imitation. He did not adopt a Russian accent, and the transformation relied on subtle choices in hair and makeup. “Olivier and I discussed this wasn’t to be an interpretation of Putin, and he didn’t want me to hide behind a mask of prosthetics,” he said. “We worked with an amazing makeup and hair team and had reference of that period in Putin’s life. We tried to find a familiarity on me. It’s amazing what a great wig can do.”

Across from him, Paul Dano reflected on Baranov, the architect of image and influence at the film’s centre. He described a man pulled between ideals and power, someone who could not remain in art and instead turned politics into his stage. The interest is in complexity, not simple labels. That idea mirrors the wider festival landscape this year, where politics and performance keep meeting, as we noted in our Cannes 2025 festival essay that traced similar questions of power and myth.

Assayas framed the film as a portrait of politics in our time. It is a study of how spectacle, media, and control can merge, and a reminder that democracy feels fragile when truth is bent into story. For Law, the performance meant stepping into a presence defined by silence. He spoke of a public face that reveals little. “I often felt conflicted as an actor when Olivier wanted me to portray emotion to motivate a scene,” he said. “I was trying to show very little but feel an awful lot from within, and that was the key.”

Venice has always been a place where cinema and politics share the same room. This premiere carried both. The Wizard of the Kremlin is not only the story of a single leader, it is a cautionary tale about how power reshapes truth, and how easily we can learn to accept the mask.