Pavel (Pasha) Talankin is a teacher in Karabash, a small mining town in the Ural Mountains of Russia. The documentary, recorded by Pasha, opens with a loving ode to his hometown, painted with all the peculiar charm of a place that only someone who grew up there could truly appreciate. Pasha narrates how this small Russian town, officially known worldwide as one of the most toxic and polluted places on earth, and despite its crumbling buildings and bitter winters, is in his eyes the “best place in the world.” Through his lens, we see the little things he treasures – kids playing football in the dusty schoolyard, the smell of fresh bread from the local bakery, and the way the sunlight filters through the birch trees lining the streets. He even loves the maze of pipes coping out of the copper smelting plant.
This tender introduction sets the tone for a film that balances the gravity of its themes with a deep sense of humanity. The love Pasha feels for his town makes what follows all the more poignant. When an executive order from Putin begins to reshape his beloved community – turning schools into platforms for militarised nationalism, the movie takes a more sombre turn.
Co–Director Pavel Talankin
Producer Helle Faber
Co–Producers Radovan Síbrt, Alžběta Karásková, Petra Dobešová
Produced by made in Copenhagen.
DR, ZDF / ARTE, NRK, SVT, RTS RadioTélévision Suisse, VPRO
Premiered at Sundance Film Festival 2025 winning the World Cinema Documentary Special Jury Award.
Australian Premiere at Sydney Film Festival 2025
Starring Pavel Talankin and the students and residents of Karabash
As Russia’s invasion of Ukraine intensifies, the changes in Pasha’s school unfold quietly but unmistakably. His warm observations of the town give way to a chilling new reality: classrooms becoming recruitment stages, lessons rewritten to serve state propaganda, and children rehearsing patriotic songs they don’t fully understand. Yet, Pasha doesn’t rage against this shift. Instead, he picks up his camera and starts filming, his love for his town, and his students, compelling him to document the truth before it’s lost.
Through Pasha’s covert filming, we see a teacher’s lounge filled with eye–rolls, students dutifully reciting slogans they don’t quite understand, and awkward attempts at blending nationalism with everyday school life. It’s unsettling, yes, but also oddly familiar. Who hasn’t witnessed moments when institutions lose sight of their original purpose? Not surprisingly, the grades of the students start to drop in parallel to the time consumed on propaganda.
The film also succeeds in drawing global parallels without losing its distinctly Russian flavour. As Pasha documents his school’s transformation under an executive order from Putin, viewers can’t help but reflect on the ways education
is already, and increasingly, politicised elsewhere. Despite its serious underpinnings, moments of levity are skillfully used to balance the tension.
What inspired you to create Mr. Nobody Against Putin?
David Borenstein: The film was born out of witnessing the transformation of Russian schools into tools for propaganda during the invasion of Ukraine. My co–director, Pasha, was at the centre of it all, documenting this shift in his own school despite the risks. We wanted to highlight how education, a space for growth and learning, can be weaponised to ensure the survival of an authoritarian regime. Pasha, sacrificed a lot to make this film. He left everything that he knew, and once he left, unfortunately, he can’t be here tonight, even to celebrate the three years of hard work and risk that he put into this project.
What challenges did you face while making this film?
The greatest challenge was ensuring Pasha’s safety. He had to film covertly, knowing the risks if he were caught. Even after the footage was secured, we couldn’t release the film until Pasha safely left Russia. For him, making this documentary meant sacrificing his ability to return to his hometown—an enormous personal cost.
Is this story uniquely Russian, or do its themes resonate globally?
While the story is deeply rooted in Russia, it’s not solely a Russian issue. The politicisation of education can be seen elsewhere, like in debates over school curriculums and book bans in the U.S. This is a global concern about how education can be manipulated to serve political ends.
How does the film approach its subject without imposing a message?
We didn’t want to preach or tell audiences what to think. Instead, the film lets the Putin regime’s own words and actions speak for themselves. It’s about showing viewers the messages being fed to Russian children daily and letting them draw their own conclusions.
What role does humour play in the film?
Humour helps balance the gravity of the subject. Pasha’s dry wit and the absurdities of life in a propagandised school inject moments of levity into an otherwise serious narrative. It reminds us that even in dark times, resilience and humour can coexist.
I hope audiences see the power of small acts of defiance and the importance of protecting independent education systems. This isn’t just about Russia—it’s about recognising and addressing the fragility of democracy everywhere.
How did Pasha’s love for his hometown shape the story?
Pasha’s deep affection for his town is the emotional core of the film. It’s what drives his courage to document the changes happening around him. His story isn’t just about resistance; it’s about protecting the community and values he holds dear.
Helle Faber: What I find fascinating—and frightening—about the classroom as a political arena is that it’s where ordinary people live their daily lives. It’s a space that should nurture growth and curiosity, so seeing it manipulated for propaganda is deeply unsettling. And yes, it’s a return to something we’ve seen before in history, which is why it’s so scary—it’s a reminder of how these cycles can resurface.
Did you feel at risk while making this film?
Personally, no. I’m Danish, and David, the director, also wasn’t at risk. But Pasha, the main character and co–director, was in an incredibly dangerous position. The risks he took to film and share this story were immense.
How did Pasha’s involvement in the filming begin? Did he start on his own or with support from the production team?
Pasha started filming by himself, and later, David got involved. I joined after that. From the very beginning, we knew that if we ever wanted to show this film to the world, we’d have to get Pasha out of Russia. That became our priority, and thankfully, it happened last fall.
Was it dangerous for Pasha during the filming process? How did he manage to avoid suspicion?
Surprisingly, the fact that Pasha was the event coordinator at the school worked to his advantage. He always carried a camera around for his role, so people didn’t think twice about him filming. What they didn’t know was what he was actually capturing—and that he would eventually share it with us.
Yes, it was a mix of having enough material and ensuring Pasha’s safety. David stayed in weekly contact with him through an encrypted link. When we felt the timing was right and Pasha was ready to leave, we made the call. That became the breaking point for all of us.
Did Pasha leave with his family?
Pasha left alone, and while his mother is still in Russia, she is very pro–Putin. She’s in a place where she feels safe and supported, but it’s a complicated situation for him.
How does this story resonate globally, beyond Russia?
I think what’s happening in Russia reflects broader trends. Around the world, and especially here in the U.S., we see how powerful men are shaping politics. There are unsettling similarities between Putin’s actions and what figures like Trump could do. That’s why this story is so relevant to audiences everywhere—it’s not just about Russia.
What do you think is the safeguard against these dangers? Is it about keeping education independent?
Absolutely. The school system is critical. As Putin himself says in the film, “Commanders don’t win wars school teachers do.” That’s such a powerful statement, and it highlights why we must protect the independence of education. Schools are where democracy is cultivated, and if we lose that, we’re in trouble.
Radovan Sibrt: “David brought this material to me, and the first thing we had to figure out was how to get Pasha out of Russia. We knew immediately that if this film ever screened anywhere, his safety would be at risk. It was a long process— after all, we’re filmmakers, not legal experts or people experienced with these kinds of operations. This past fall, he successfully entered the Czech Republic and is now in asylum. In a way, it felt like a bit of a conspiracy. Here we were, film producers, suddenly working to get someone out of Russia and into the European Union. Now Pasha is living in our apartment in Prague, and we’ve ensured he’s being paid retroactively for all his work on the film. We’re doing everything we can to finalise his asylum papers as soon as possible.”
At the end of the screening, the audience was treated to a live WhatsApp call with Pasha, who shared some of the heartfelt and positive messages he had received from his hometown ending in his trademark humour with the last quote, “Pasha, you’re such an asshole. Thank you very much.”
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