Time to read: 12 minutes(s)

"Your fairy tales make me sick already."

NeMoscow went to see a film about Kolobok

"Kolobok," which has been surrounded by controversy since its release and has already led to criminal charges against its critics, has turned out to have an unexpected twist. Behind the outward appearance of a callous and boorish hero, there are hints of philosophical reflections on a headless Russia, and even a hint of seditious anti-war sentiment.

"The world needs not only heroes, but also bakers," One of the main ideas the film conveys to the "6+" audience, and one you're unlikely to encounter in "Conversations About Important Things."

Our journalist's review covers what the children were shown and what the adults saw.

"The purest film"

It's Saturday evening. A movie theater in a residential area of ​​a Russian city. Two cleaning ladies stand at the door of the theater where the screening of "Kolobok" is ending. They have just 10 minutes to tidy up the theater before the next screening. The theater seats almost 200.

— Will you make it? — I ask them.

- There's almost no one there, - informs one of the girls.

— The purest film, — adds another.

The bass voices outside the door are interrupted by the sound of footsteps—the end credits have begun, and the audience is heading toward the exit. Only 20 people emerge from the auditorium. Five of them are children.

An elderly woman, accompanied by her son, who is already over 50, shares her first impressions: "The music is good, but I didn't like the movie. Everyone's fighting and fighting, and the kids are watching."

"What about Tom and Jerry? What about Well, Just You Wait?" the son objects.

And a few seconds later he comes up with a trump card: “What about The Three Musketeers?”

A little more came to the evening screening—I count 26 people in chairs. There were only four children. The atmosphere in the hall was almost homey.

The ad block only plays trailers for children's films—at least three of them will be released this fall. All were made in Russia. Each one emphasizes its own, authentic roots. 

According to the script of one of them, the heroes of Russian fairy tales complain They feel forgotten and no longer read. They turn to a boy who spends his days blogging about superheroes and is "obsessed with everything foreign."

"Your universe is outdated," follows from his master class. — There's so much out there already: comics, anime, neural networks. And you're still wearing bast shoes."

Then he takes on the restyling. For example, the heroine of the fairy tale "Masha and the Bear" becomes Wolverine, and the chainmail of one of the heroes is painted in the colors of Spider-Man's suit.

In real Russia, as we already know, the defense of fairy tale characters was carried out without the creativity of a smart school student: the premiere of the new Spider-Man film was simply moved up two weeks so that audiences could go see Kolobok.

And here we are.

The screen in the cinema, where 170 seats remain empty, flashes the "6+" banner. "Kolobok" begins.

We scraped the bottom of the barrel

For the first 30 minutes, I can't really get into the fairy tale. At least, I can't. Reality gets in the way.

There is no point in retelling that in revenge for Spider-Man, Russian viewers collapsed Kolobok's ratings even before the premiere. Then the crew members staged public harassment of an electrician online Moscow — because he didn't like the graphics in the trailer. And against those who allegedly threatened them in response, excited criminal case. And now dissatisfied viewers face up to five years in prison.

The main character in the new film version of "Kolobok" exhibits similar aggression. According to the plot, he is a thief and a robber. He is often rude and makes vulgar jokes that are not appropriate for children.

"Catch this surprise in your little jug." "Millet-question." "Come on! I'm going to go soft here now." "F-fuck my loaf!"

One of Kolobok’s conclusions also seems controversial for the 6+ audience: "There is no shame in stealing from thieves."

He prefers to resolve any conflict with force rather than dialogue. As the grandmother from the previous session said: everyone fights, and the children watch. And the first fight even takes place to the sound of a song. Sergei Shnurov "Magic People Voodoo People." It's hard to watch the enterprising filmmakers transform a character we've known since childhood into a boor and vulgarian. Especially at first.

The speech of other characters is also rude, vulgar, and cynical: "In this world you have to be tough, take a beating, otherwise you'll grow up like a sweet cheesecake," "Don't shake, little one, roll with me."

Or here's another one - the robbers' plans for the baby Kolobok: "We'll raise this little urchin, and we'll need him later. He'll fit through any hole."

A philologist and film critic has already stated that the film clearly does not meet the rating of a children's film. Artem Gasparov.

"This isn't a children's fairy tale, nor is it a family blockbuster. It's something between a parody with elements of dark humor and a metamodernist skit, where they try to entertain the audience with jokes, some of which are vulgar," сказал he said in an interview with Kommersant.

A fairy tale is a lie, but there is a hint in it ...

And yet, Kolobok, despite all his callousness and aggressiveness, begins at some point to evoke sympathy.

A lump of dough made of coarse flour tries to become human. To do this, according to the new plot, it inhabits the body of a baker. More precisely, it forcibly takes over the baker, oblivious to the baker's displeasure. Kolobok simply knows no other way to behave—he grew up in a cruel world, in a gang of robbers. And kindness was not taught there.

As you become immersed in the story, you begin to understand why the hero behaves the way he does. And you watch with curiosity as he evolves.

The answer to that same electrician's question also emerges: "Why was Kolobok drawn so disgustingly?" The idea, it seems, was precisely to make the protagonist repulsive and terrifying. And then, together with the viewer, to find the soft spot beneath that stale crust.

Yes, he looks like a freak. But we, after all, are not children to judge someone by their appearance i This, of course, does not remove the question that children, accustomed to the curious and trusting gingerbread man in traditional fairy tales, see a cynic and a thief on the screen. .

The entire film is about self-discovery. And it's not just Kolobok who's engaged in this search, but other characters as well. Everyone is confused by the question: "Who are we really and who do we want to become?"

The main character, the hermit Lada, is a beauty in life, but in the mirror she sees herself as ugly.

The hedgehog in the fairy tale, who somehow appears to be convinced he was born a bear, can't answer the question: why is honey, especially linden honey, so repulsive to him?

Even Gosha Kutsenko, who plays the role of the rough and tumble leader of the gang, reveals an unexpected side.

"I tried to make a man out of you, but you turned out to be soulless bread." "He tells Kolobok near the end. The robber has his own ideas about how to raise a man for life in a gang: steal here, scratch your heels there. Stay alive—that's what you'll be happy with.

And finally, the main storyline involves the search for Tikhon, the baker, who is possessed by Kolobok. The hapless worker tries to build his own life, but is unable to do so—he lacks courage and determination (perhaps even aggression). He is too kind and, in the plot, is the antithesis of the main character—a body without a head. Kolobok, on the other hand, is a head without a body.

The fairy tale reaches a happy ending only when these two components finally merge into a single whole, each transforming the other for the better. At the same time, all the characters ultimately remain themselves—finding what their souls truly desired.

“It just happens that way: the soul is one thing, the body is another,” says Tikhon in a scene that is heading towards a climax. "Maybe I dreamed of being a hero too. To be strong, handsome, to be respected by everyone. And then you watch a child gobble up your bread, and you realize that the world needs not only heroes, but also bakers."

Quite a bold statement for the highest-grossing film in Russia in 2026.

And in general, these phrases about a body without a head are heard constantly. They, like threads, stitch together the plot and lead the audience to the idea that the entire magical world in which the action takes place lives without a head.

The characters in the new "Kolobok" are drawn from a wide variety of fairy tales. However, the creators chose not to introduce anyone who could be considered, so to speak, a representative of authority. There's no good king, no evil Koshchei, no brave prince. And Ilyusha Muromets has gone off on some kind of campaign.

Bandits have seized power, doing whatever they please, and there's no one to control them. The fairytale world lives without a leader, sinking ever deeper into some kind of endless chaos. Cruelty breeds cruelty. And everyone grows stale, like the day before yesterday's bread.

Incidentally, filming took place in Altai last summer. At the same time, walked protests against local government reform and the liquidation of village councils. Residents blocked tracks, collected a rally of thousands and required, so that the visiting head of the republic, a United Russia member Andrey Turchak resigned. The authorities responded to this with harsh administrative pressure and sent active participants under arrest. Local activist Arunu Arnu, who became the people's leader, was, according to established tradition, accused of justifying terrorism and sentenced to five years in prison. Protests according to the standard procedure have been named "Unauthorized public events." Or, as the saying goes, they started playing the same old game.

By the way, Kolobok from the new film also doesn’t like organ grinders and standard patterns.

“Somewhere out of the corner of our ear we heard a fairy tale, and immediately into the barrel organ, he expresses indignation at the end of his story about his real life, which, according to him, was allegedly distorted. "You could at least think of something new, add something of your own. All you care about is the jingle of coins. These fairy tales of yours are already making me sick. Ugh!"

Audience 150+. Or why history teaches nothing.

The final credits roll across the screen, and the lights in the theater come up. Viewers tear themselves away from one screen and are glued to another: some are calling a Yandex taxi, others are checking missed calls and messages.

I'm watching the news. NeMoskva just published Saturday's results. The top line which usually takes criminal case against critics of "Kolobok." Then comes the "SVO" museum in Penza, where visitors allowed to go through the documents and personal belongings of “liquidated Ukrainian military personnel.” Gelendzhik again turned under attack by drones. And in Ryazan closed A criminal case was opened against the police officers who beat up a teacher, mistaking her for a drug dealer.

The fairy tale is over. People are returning to life, the cleaners to the hall. A new batch will arrive in 10 minutes. There's no one at the door yet, but judging by the website, four tickets have already been purchased.

It's hard to believe we just saw the highest-grossing film of the summer season. However, NeMoskva's calculations suggest it's likely true.

As of August 9 (or during its first weekend), "Kolobok" could indeed have grossed 245 million rubles. According to official figures, it was seen by almost 565 viewers. At an average ticket price of 430 rubles, that's precisely the amount.

The empty theaters are because someone overdid the protection of Russian fairytale characters and allocated too many screenings for "Kolobok." This allowed viewers to choose a more convenient time and come when they wanted (not when the show was on). The result: 15 viewers per screening.

And so, the dough is ready. Or, as the film trailer claims, the most important dough of the year.

The first written version of Kolobok, by the way, was published 150 years ago in a collection by a folklorist. Alexandra Afanasyeva (1873). The plot itself is many centuries old, and scholars associate it with ancient Slavic myths.

The playful tale of the gingerbread man, baked from the last grains of flour and joyfully rolling toward adventure, has taught children for centuries that bragging and overconfidence lead to tragic consequences: "I left my grandfather, I left my grandmother..." Everyone knows the ending.