“Mr Nobody Against Putin”: A lesson on ideological warfare6 min read
Filmed by Pavel Talankin, then a videographer at a local school in Karabash, in Russia’s Ural region, Mr Nobody Against Putin depicts the stark reality of how war pervades every corner of life. The film, which won Best Documentary Feature at the 2026 Academy Awards, depicts the plight of a school turned upside down following the start of the war in Ukraine.
“Maybe one day you can be a dead soldier too.”
The line, delivered to children on Victory Day – described as the “holiest day of the year for the Russian State” by Talankin – was not the only one of its kind. It sets the tone for a film in which the messaging becomes impossible to avoid. In one scene, a local Orthodox priest invokes the sacrifices of the “Great Patriotic War,” calling for unity and the defeat of a vague but omnipresent enemy before solemnly telling students: “You, young people, will have to carry the banner of absolute victory over evil.” This was yet another less-than-subtle attempt to legitimise the state’s trope and cement indoctrination efforts and the pervasion of pro-war ideology.
Prior to the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Russian educator Pavel Talankin’s job consisted of filming friendships, graduations, lessons and local scenes. After the invasion, he was assigned the task of filming the school’s compliance with the new federal patriotic education policy – filming performances and lessons designed to instil loyalty and discipline. At the same time, he decided to covertly document the effects of the invasion on schoolchildren within Russia.
Overnight, and on top of their everyday curriculum, teachers in Karabash were suddenly laden with the responsibility of teaching scripted propaganda lessons and staging displays of enthusiasm. Students rehearsed songs and took part in newly introduced youth initiatives such as Movement of the First. One classroom scene depicted a teacher asking students which was one of the most heroic Soviet cities, to which a student eagerly replied “Kyiv,” before the camera panned around to show them reading the answer off a piece of paper.
The students were bedecked with the red hats of Movement of the First, described by some as a rebranded Pioneers movement, not just because it was announced on the 100-year anniversary of the Soviet Pioneers. The “all-encompassing propaganda organisation,” according to Talankin, is not, this time around, about promoting the aims of communism – but about promoting a cumulative loyalty to Putin and his aims.
“We need to get the kids to recite some patriotic songs and speeches – you need to film it,” a colleague told Talankin. “We also need to record the kids reciting poems about our victory.”
The involvement of Talankin’s students in the war left him feeling upset and angry, and he confessed to feeling an “uncontrollable urge to fight back” upon seeing his students drawn “so directly” into the conflict. Although some teachers enjoyed toeing the line, many struggled with reading scripted messages, and the focus on propaganda meant that attainment suffered.
Tensions in the staff room exposed a story of compliance amid a backdrop of top-down control. Students and staff alike faced difficulties coping with their additional duties, and teaching became akin to “walking a tightrope,” Talankin said, “where you feel like you are nothing but a propagandist.” Even the school principal confessed that these decisions weren’t being made by her – the message had come from above. That message, noted Talankin, was “Go Russia, hurray for nuclear weapons.” What was unfolding around him was at once absurd and incredibly dangerous.
This didn’t mean he gave up, however. Despite the risks of government persecution, acting out became Talankin’s way of rebelling. He put X’s up on the windows of the school (a symbol of support for Ukrainian refugees) rather than pro-war Z’s and played the US national anthem on full volume, sung by Lady Gaga, instead of the Russian national anthem. Despite taking a risk when carrying out these acts of resistance, it showed that dissent has not entirely disappeared with Russian civil society.
The film ultimately revolves around Talankin and his students. His office is a safe haven for them, a place where they can step away from the roles they are expected to perform. When one of his former students, Vanya, was enlisted, Talankin threw a farewell party for him. The party was attended by the young man and his friends, many of whom shaved their heads in solidarity. As the night progressed, Vanya and his friends displayed less bravado, becoming emotional. The scene of two boys crying in an embrace in the dark captures the cost of a war often framed in distant and abstract terms.
The impact elsewhere is no less profound. Masha, another student, watches her brother leave for the front line. Asked to write a letter to a soldier as part of a classroom task, she addresses the recipient, wishing him well while sharing her worries surrounding her brother’s departure. Masha found it difficult to articulate her fears and emotions, keeping her head down in the hopes of surviving.
In the film, Putin says on TV: “Commanders aren’t the ones that are going to win this war, teachers are.” Nowhere is this more tangible than in Talankin’s classrooms, where propaganda is being used to brainwash pupils, increasing support for the so-called “special military operation.” With Russian teachers now using their time to teach students to use guns, throw grenades, sing patriotic songs and wave flags, there’s little time left to teach them the basics that they need to survive in life. Classrooms have become spaces where state narratives are reinforced and loyalties are rehearsed, leaving no room for alternative realities.
After fleeing Russia, Talankin shared his footage with American director David Borenstein, who assembled the film. In his acceptance speech at the Academy Awards, Borenstein said the film is about “how you lose your country… What we saw when working with this footage is that you lose it through countless small, little acts of complicity.” This goes beyond the specific context of the film, questioning broader themes of morality, responsibility and the limits of individual agency under pressure.
Talankin’s position as a “nobody” – as neither a journalist nor an official, but a school videographer, is crucial in his ability to uncover the gradual normalisation of a system drawing children into the battlefield. In doing so, he was able to portray the persistent manipulation of children and the spreading of a climate of fear.
Talankin, speaking at the Academy Awards, said: “For four years now, we have been looking up at the starry sky and making our most important wish. But there are countries where it is not stars that fall from the sky, but missiles and drones. For the sake of the future, for the sake of the children, stop all wars now.”
