Michael Lockshin Film The Master and Margarita
Facebook
WhatsApp
Pinterest
LinkedIn
Email
twitter X

Michael Lockshin: Raw Reminders Between Two Worlds – USA and Russia

Interview with Michael Lockshin starting from his The Master and Margarita – Russians didn’t reconsider their symbols, they didn’t take Lenin out of the mausoleum. They could have asked: where was Russia looking?

Born and raised between the United States and Russia, Michael Lockshin grew up navigating two cultural worlds

America ranks supreme when it comes to the film industry, followed closely, and at an ever-thinning gap, by China. From there, box office numbers drop off significantly. In countries other than the US and China, American movies almost invariably top the box office charts. Conversely, the American market accepts only a slim number of foreign films each year, with American distributors fiercely scouting top festivals to identify contenders for these limited slots. Competing with Hollywood-scale films requires an economy of scale that is often unachievable for many filmmakers. Multinational collaboration, however, offers a potential path forward.

Enter Michael Lockshin. Born and raised between the United States and Russia, Lockshin grew up navigating two distinct cultural worlds. His Jewish grandparents had fled persecution in Russia, while his parents faced blacklisting in America during the McCarthy era due to their communist sympathies. Lockshin began his career producing commercial video content, gaining recognition for an advertisement featuring David Duchovny for Siberian Crown, a subsidiary of Anheuser Busch.

Lockshin’s unique perspective and fluency in both Russian and American cultural contexts opened doors for a promising collaboration between the two worlds. His film Silver Skates debuted to critical acclaim in Russia and became a Netflix hit, ranking #1 in multiple regions during its initial release weeks.

This success cemented Lockshin’s reputation among studios and funders. His work demonstrated an ability to cater to an often-overlooked Russian market while aligning with the mechanisms of the international media economy. It was no surprise when he was tapped to direct an adaptation of The Master and Margarita, Bulgakov’s literary masterpiece. The project joined a long line of controversial attempts to adapt the novel—Roman Polanski once described his own dropped script for the book as “the best he ever wrote.”

The Master and Margarita

Lockshin’s version was already funded, filmed, and in post-production when Russia launched its invasion of Ukraine. The project, backed by European and American co-producers, had secured Universal Pictures as its distributor. However, following sanctions imposed by Western governments, American studios closed their Moscow offices, and Lockshin’s film was caught in the crossfire. He returned to the United States, leaving behind collaborators, friends, and an unfinished movie.

Nearly two years later, The Master and Margarita finally saw its release on Thursday, January 25, 2024. Despite an unfavorable premiere window, the film quickly garnered a large audience, ultimately becoming Russia’s highest-grossing movie with an 18+ content rating. However, it also faced intense scrutiny and backlash from propagandists, who launched a smear campaign against both the film and Lockshin.

Michael Lockshin Raw in Two Worlds – Film Director of The Master and Margarita

Interview with Michael Lockshin

Michael Lockshin. In Russia they know me more as Mee-hail and in English as My-call, so I go by both.

My grandfather and grandmother were originally from what is now Ukraine. It was then within the Russian Empire—in the Pale of Settlement, where there were Jews living in a shtetl in Ukraine. They were escaping pogroms and gradually made it to the US. They spoke Russian at home, and quite a few relatives stayed in Russia, which later became the Soviet Union. My father was a scientist and was also involved in politics. He got into the civil rights movement and then the communist movement in the U.S. My mother was a communist as well. They had gone to the Soviet Union a couple of times for various reasons.

When I was a kid, they decided to move to the USSR, mostly because of their communist beliefs. I grew up there as it was quickly being dismantled. I grew up skeptical about that whole move, but I was a five-year-old kid, so I didn’t have much say in it. It eventually became a capitalist state. I went to school in Russia, though in an American international community. As the USSR was falling apart, Moscow became a cosmopolitan center with an influx of foreigners. I grew up with a good mix of Russian and English literature and media.

I didn’t know I wanted to be a filmmaker, although I dabbled in photography early on as a teenager. I was a little bit of a journalist. Also, I was randomly doing a master’s in psychology at Moscow State University. It was more theoretical psychology because I never wanted to be a therapist—I had more of an academic interest in the field. I worked on set for the first time and then knew I wanted to work in film. I didn’t have a background in film; nobody in my family or who was around me was in film. It was really something that I uncovered myself in my early twenties.

Michael Lockshin Raw in Two Worlds – USA and Russia
Michael Lockshin directs The Master and Margarita

Soon after that, I moved to London and then Berlin. I lived in London for many years. Right after college, I was working in commercial production as an assistant for research and all that kind of stuff. I grew up with a skeptical outlook on any form of politics, with the realization that ultimately there are pros and cons in various countries, but that democracy is the real driving force in progress. Even as a kid coming from the US to the Soviet Union, the authoritarian dogma of Leninism seemed absurd. Russia became a free place by the beginning of the nineties, with a lot of free thought and a real interest in different points of view. I gradually saw how that censorship came back in Russia with the rise of Putin. I wasn’t living in Russia continuously throughout the 2000s and 2010s, but I was working there and going back and forth often.

I was a commercial director for about 12 years, working all over Europe with a base in Berlin. I worked a lot in Russia, Ukraine, and Poland. I’ve shot in Ukraine about ten times. I witnessed the tendencies toward freedom being quelled. The retrograde, backwards thinking—nationalistic and heavily censored—was rising again. For a time, it felt like the empire could just become a normal state. Gradually, those forces overtook the positive ones.

How power leads to despotism

I.C.M. What factors do you see as having allowed that slippage after such a fierce, initial opposition to the Stalinist period? What allowed people to feel complacent?

Michael Lockshin. I look at Germany a lot, considering what happened to allow the country to emerge from Nazi rule. In 1947, two years after the war, polls conducted showed that over 60—or even 70—percent of Germans would still vote for Hitler. This was two years after they learned about the Holocaust and everything else that had happened. Once the program was implemented, denazification took decades, but it really worked. What happened is that the nation as a whole rejected imperialistic, authoritarian outlooks and repented. They said, “We’re sorry, we did bad things,” and they admitted it.

What happened with Russia is that there was a similar tendency for a short time, but it was quickly overtaken by the paranoia of “we didn’t do anything bad.” Ultimately, a large percentage of the population never fully grasped the horrors that the Soviet Union conducted—like the purges and the atrocities of the Second World War. They didn’t reconsider their symbols; they didn’t remove Lenin from the mausoleum, which they could have done as a significant statement. They could have asked: Where was Russia looking?

From that, wild capitalism and the mafia state arose in the late nineties, especially when the mafiosos took power. Putin and his gang were akin to a mafia, filled with the nationalistic sentiments that go hand in hand with authoritarianism: We are the best and strongest nation. And we didn’t do anything bad. It is a huge question to me how they manage to zombify the whole population into believing that. Despite the internet and access to information, it is bizarre that such a large part of the population subscribes to the nonsense they disseminate.

You can look at how they took over all of the TV channels, the entire media, and silenced all opposition, while taking over courts and centralizing the powers of an authoritarian state. That happened gradually over twenty years and led us to where we are now. I don’t know if this was their plan all along. This concept goes back to ancient Rome—even back then, people reflected on how power leads to despotism.

Michael Lockshin directs The Master and Margarita
Michael Lockshin directs The Master and Margarita

In the US there is still a sense of progress in looking at our history

I.C.M. When you hear people sounding the alarm bells about democracy, does it seem alarmist to you having a Russian context in mind?

Michael Lockshin. The US is reevaluating its own history, acknowledging slavery and recognizing that the Vietnam War was a bad thing. That is what keeps it a healthy nation. Many would argue it’s not as healthy as it dovrebbe be, whereas Russia didn’t do any of that. It created a cult out of the Second World War—a tragedy in which the Soviet Union committed huge atrocities as well. There was a brief period in the nineties during which that history was coming to light. Then, as a repressive element, Putin stopped all of that and rewrote history back to the Soviet version. The Second World War isn’t the triumph it is projected to be; it has become the sacred cow that you can’t touch. That is a large part of what the Russian national identity is based on.

I go back to when Trump and the far right in the US—and in the West in Europe, which have strong democratic traditi- ons—are compared to Hitler and Putin. That is a misunderstanding of what real authoritarianism is. The US has enough checks and balances, and a system of power that wouldn’t allow for pure despotism. I am concerned that in the US a large part of the population is subjected to heavily distorted news and propaganda, but I don’t think it is anywhere near what is happening in Russia, Iran, North Korea, or China.

I.C.M. In thinking about when Silver Skates was made, how were you considering Russia’s place within an international film ecosystem?

Michael Lockshin. Russia was heavily integrated at that time, not just in the film ecosystem but also in European and world culture. This was true for all the arts and theatre, with top artists visiting major biennials and museum exhibitions. Cinema was even more international. There were huge international coproductions: Russia was 4th, 5th, or 6th in the world box office, a market for world studios. All the Hollywood studios had offices in Russia and were starting co-productions with European offices. Netflix, HBO, and Apple were opening offices in Russia. Silver Skates was the first Netflix original in Russian. Although all those companies have since moved out, back in 2018–2019, when Netflix launched in Russia, they gained a few million subscribers and were planning to reach 10 million. It was a big market.

Netflix was generally producing local TV shows in Russia just as it was in Korea. The industry was thriving, with an influx of actors and European co-producers. These previously isolated local territories suddenly reached a global market. Silver Skates was number one in many countries (in the US, it ranked within the top ten). It topped the charts in Latin America, Eastern Europe, and some Asian countries, even being number one in Brazil for a couple of months. This success would have been impossible without Netflix. I saw it as an exciting period—a moment when many believed the integration of culture could help prevent Russia from falling to the right wing. Sadly, that didn’t happen. Today, Russia is a pariah state.

The culture of Russia has been, in a sense, flushed down the toilet. Putin’s regime likes to say that the West is canceling Russian culture, but it is not that the West cancelled it—it was Putin and his government who did. Russian culture should be part of international culture; there shouldn’t be a separation. With harsh censorship in place, it is now nearly impossible to create anything of substance. The Master and the Margarita was probably the last movie born from a totally different era.

The Master and the Margarita: Controversy and International Impact

I.C.M. Anyone who is still working in the Russian film industry is now forced to make escapist comedies and fairy tales that have little to do with reality.

Michael Lockshin. The Master and the Margarita generated controversy and pushback among pundits and propagandists in Russia, while achieving impressive box office results. That was the whole idea, even more so than Silver Skates, because it cast European actors from the beginning. Universal Pictures Europe was set to distribute the film, and we were confident of an international foothold at various festivals. It was a large movie—even by European standards. I saw it as an international coproduction. We shot in Croatia and Russia. These were our hopes, and it might have happened if not for the war.

I’m still processing it. The war happened, and Universal Pictures pulled out of its distribution plans. I spoke out against the war—in support of Ukraine—and that quickly created problems. Russia didn’t have the stringent censorship laws in place then as it does now; it was at least trying to pretend to be a democratic country in 2021. When we shot the movie, we could say almost anything that wasn’t overtly political without major issues. Now, that would be impossible. Russia quickly imposed new laws in 2022 as the war progressed.

I had flown out on October 21st after finishing the movie. It soon became clear that the producers remaining in Russia wouldn’t be able to finish or release the film because of my involvement and some of its themes. It was thrown into limbo, and we wouldn’t have been able to complete it until 2023. Our plans for an international release shifted because of trade restrictions. Somehow, the producers managed to get the movie out on a poor release date and without my name. It was released on January 25th of this year and marketed as a love story. I was simply happy to see it released. It quickly blew up, receiving great support from audiences and critics.

Everyone who watched it wondered how a film like that could have come to life—and propagandists seized on that three days later, sparking a massive campaign against it. Many people didn’t watch it until it came out. There were calls to ban the movie, and some even called me a criminal and a terrorist, claiming the film was part of a special foreign agenda. It reached the State Duma, but they didn’t pull the film because it had already become so popular. The book is beloved—the nation’s favorite—and everyone can quote from it. On one hand, they attacked the movie and me; on the other, the controversy boosted box office numbers. In retrospect, it was almost a perfect storm, but at the time, it was scary because I didn’t know what was happening.

On the Genesis of the Adaptation

I.C.M. Tell us more about the genesis of this adaptation.

Michael Lockshin. I was approached by a producer who had held the rights to the book for many years and wanted to put together a team to create a new adaptation. They came to me to pitch an idea after my first film. Initially, I was hesitant because, knowing the book well, my impression was that it would be impossible to adapt it faithfully to film. If my second film had flopped, it could have been disastrous for my career. Later, my co-writer and I revisited the idea.

We developed a structure that would weave the narrative into a cinematic form—something the book doesn’t naturally lend itself to. We had to build a storyline from extensive scholarly research. The adaptation was heavily influenced by Mikhail Bulgakov’s own life; his biography served as the skeleton for the master’s backstory in the film. We pitched this daring proposition, fully aware that the fan base is a formidable one—arguably scarier than the Tolkien fandom. The movie, like the book, spans multiple genres. For its structure, we looked to a type of Hollywood film that interweaves a realistic storyline with a fantastical one, much like Big Fish or Guillermo Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth.

We drew upon different influences for each scene: Brazil inspired some parts, while The Conformist informed the totalitarian scenes. There were elements of thriller and almost horror in the action scenes. My team and I aimed to bring these disparate influences together into one film.

I.C.M. Two characters discuss the grand works of Soviet architecture. There is a palpable tension in Soviet architecture between the rawness of materials and the stark volumes and forms.

Michael Lockshin. The architectural narrative—the building of the Soviet Empire—mirrors the powers that were both protecting and destroying the writer. The space he inhabits is warm and homely, imbued with humanity, in stark contrast to the totalitarian city that the Soviet Union was constructing: post-constructivist architecture. In the thirties, as Moscow was being torn down and rebuilt, the same was happening in Berlin under Hitler. The film’s architectural references stem from real plans that might have been enacted if not for the war. This totalitarian architecture is not about the individual, but about reinforcing state power and pressuring the individual to conform.

I.C.M. In one scene, the writer presents an orientation to Soviet intellectual life: if it isn’t about class critique, it isn’t worth writing about. He insists that all aesthetic appreciation should align with this criterion.

Michael Lockshin. My co-writer and I took on this project because we felt its themes were incredibly timely. We didn’t anticipate the full extent to which this would resonate or how far Russia would go once we began. It appeared to be a 50-50 chance that events might tilt in an authoritarian direction—a relevance that still resonates with the world today. This timeliness is crucial; without relevance, the work might seem like a dusty relic of the past. Take, for instance, the writers’ union scene, which at the time felt like a relic from another era. We couldn’t have known it would later echo word for word what was happening in Russia—just yesterday, a playwright was jailed for six years for writing a play. There is no justification for her imprisonment, and this is happening to artists throughout Russia. They are either coerced into a state of fear, persecuted, or forced to leave the country.

On American Directors and Artists in the Current Moment

I.C.M. Do you see American directors and artists as being encumbered by their present moment? You had a sharper rebuttal to a comparison suggested earlier.

Michael Lockshin. State censorship—as imposed under Stalin, and now in China, Russia, and Iran—is fundamentally different from cultural repression. Yes, cultural repression exists in the US, but it remains distinct in terms of stakes. In one regime, you can be sent to jail or be prevented from making a living in your country. To take it to an extreme, in the 1930s (correction: 1940), Meyerhold, Isaac Babel, and other great writers were executed for their work. These are entirely different states of repression. In Russia today, artists are receiving six-year sentences for their work. Iran has similar practices—consider the director Mohammad Rasoulof, who eventually left and attended the Cannes Film Festival. The stakes here are qualitatively different, not merely quantitatively so.

I do understand the parallels drawn between the extremes of cancel culture and the so-called cultural wars in the US related to censorship. However, relying too heavily on that comparison misses a critical nuance. Few in the US are calling for the complete dismantling of democratic institutions. Democracy is robust here. Although many oppose a Trumpian government, the potential for his misconduct is limited by established governmental institutions. There has been much talk of a possible civil war, but I don’t believe that is a realistic danger.

(Following our interview, Lockshin wrote back to clarify his thoughts on this matter:)
“While I see a qualitative difference between state censorship and repression in an authoritarian state—and culture wars/cancel culture in the West (the mechanisms and stakes of these phenomena are different)—there are still dangers in how these culture wars might evolve, potentially paving the way for authoritarianism to take hold in Western democracies. The US and most Western democracies currently have resilient systems, with well-separated legislative, executive, and judicial powers that help maintain checks and balances even in the face of rising right-wing populism (as seen with Trump). However, these systems could disintegrate. In that sense, the storyline of censorship and repression in [The Master and the Margarita] may resonate with Western audiences who haven’t experienced authoritarianism firsthand, reminding them to cherish and uphold the freedoms that lie at the heart of humanism.”

I.C.M. Some artists’ careers in America have already suffered due to their activism—David Velasco, for instance, was fired from Artforum after printing a widely signed letter by artists calling for a ceasefire. While there is a significant difference between career loss and incarceration, do you think American artists and writers should be doing more to safeguard their freedoms?

Michael Lockshin. The extremities of cancel culture we are witnessing today—with cancellations coming from both sides—are not the ideal way forward. I would caution against equating that with authoritarian state censorship. Personally, I won’t be engaging with Russian projects for the foreseeable future until the regime changes. I’m pessimistic that such change will occur anytime soon. In the meantime, I will focus on English-language projects. I do have European sensibilities ingrained in my culture, and I’m also looking forward to some American projects. The resonance of The Master and the Margarita has already influenced my next project on a cerebral level; I feel a personal responsibility to decide what I should do next.

I.C.M. Do you have a masterpiece in your sights, or are you moving on from Great Literature?

Michael Lockshin. I don’t want “Great Literature”—not anytime soon. The Master and the Margarita was unique.

Isaac Crown Manesis

Facebook
WhatsApp
Pinterest
LinkedIn
Email
twitter X