Major Grom: Plague Doctor

St. Petersburg usually gets the prestige treatment in cinema—all moody canals, Dostoyevskian gloom, and enough winter coats to bankrupted a wool mill. But Oleg Trofim’s Major Grom: Plague Doctor decides to treat the "Northern Capital" like it’s Gotham City’s more colorful, slightly more hungover cousin. It’s a Russian superhero flick that arrived on Netflix in 2021 and immediately proved that the Americans don’t have a total monopoly on punching people in slow-motion while the city burns.

I watched this on a Tuesday night while trying to ignore the fact that my radiator was making a sound like a trapped percussionist, and honestly, the film’s chaotic energy was the perfect match for my apartment's mechanical breakdown. It’s a movie that knows exactly what it is: a high-gloss, comic-book romp that borrows heavily from the West but keeps its feet firmly planted in its own specific, salty soil.

The Cop Who Thinks Too Much

At the center of the storm is Igor Grom, played with a delightful, scruffy intensity by Tikhon Zhiznevsky. Grom is the kind of cop who doesn't just break the rules; he treats the rulebook like a suggestion written in a language he doesn't speak. He’s obsessed with shawarma, lives in a loft that is definitely a fire hazard, and has a unique "superpower": he mentally simulates his fights before they happen. It’s a trick straight out of Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes (2009), and while it could have felt like a cheap ripoff, it’s executed here with enough visual flair to make it feel fresh.

The plot kicks into gear when a vigilante wearing a bird-beaked mask—the Plague Doctor—begins "cleansing" the city of corrupt elites. The villain is a tech-billionaire social media mogul named Sergey Razumovsky (Sergey Goroshko), who is essentially what happens if Mark Zuckerberg decided to cosplay as a medieval doctor with flamethrowers. The dynamic between the gritty, low-tech cop and the high-tech, socially anxious billionaire feels incredibly grounded in our current moment of tech-worship and growing wealth inequality.

A Masterclass in $10 Million

The most staggering thing about Major Grom is how it looks. The budget was $10 million, which, in Marvel terms, usually pays for the catering and half of Robert Downey Jr.’s dry cleaning. Yet, Oleg Trofim and his crew make every ruble scream on screen. The cinematography is drenched in orange and teal, but instead of feeling like a generic filter, it gives St. Petersburg a neon-noir glow that feels lived-in.

The action choreography is punchy and physical. There’s a particular set piece involving a bank robbery where the criminals are wearing masks from a popular Russian cartoon that feels like a nod to the opening of The Dark Knight (2008), but with a much higher slapstick-to-trauma ratio. The stunt work is largely practical, and you can feel the weight of the hits. It’s a relief in an era where most superhero climaxes involve two CGI blobs throwing purple lightning at each other in a digital void.

Interestingly, the film was a theatrical dud in Russia before becoming a massive global hit on streaming. It’s the quintessential 2021 success story—a film that found its audience not in the multiplex, but in the "Top 10" list of a dozen different countries simultaneously. It speaks to the democratization of the "Blockbuster"; you don't need the Hollywood machine to make something that feels this massive.

Social Media and the Beak

Where the film gets really interesting—and a bit complicated—is its relationship with the current cultural climate. The Plague Doctor doesn't just kill people; he broadcasts it. He uses Razumovsky’s "VME" social network to incite riots, tapping into the very real social media activism and political polarization we see every day.

While some might find the film’s "pro-police" stance a bit uncomfortable in a modern context, it functions more as a classic Western disguised as a comic book movie. Grom is the lone sheriff, and the Plague Doctor is the chaotic force that takes a legitimate grievance (corruption) and turns it into mindless destruction. It’s a surprisingly nuanced conversation about whether "burning it all down" actually fixes the foundation.

Stuff You Might Have Missed

The film is an adaptation of the Bubble Comics series, which is essentially the Russian Marvel. If you look closely at the background of Grom’s apartment, there are dozens of nods to the source material. Also, the character of the Plague Doctor underwent a massive redesign for the film; in the comics, the suit is much more "Halloween store," but for the movie, they went full "tactical steampunk."

Turns out, the production actually built a massive chunk of the St. Petersburg streets on a soundstage to have total control over the lighting and stunts, which explains why the city looks both familiar and slightly fantastical. And if you’re wondering about the chemistry between Grom and the investigative journalist Yuliya Pchelkina (Lyubov Aksyonova), it’s because the actors spent weeks improvising their banter to avoid the "mandatory love interest" cliches. It worked; they have more chemistry than a high school lab.

Major Grom: Plague Doctor is a loud, proud, and incredibly polished action flick that proves global cinema is narrowing the gap with Hollywood’s elite. It’s not trying to reinvent the wheel, but it paints the wheel in such vibrant colors that you don't mind the familiar ride. If you can get past the subtitles (or if you’re a fan of the surprisingly decent dub), it’s a high-energy distraction that understands that a hero is only as good as his last meal and his hardest punch. It’s the kind of movie that makes you want to buy a leather jacket and go find the best shawarma in your zip code.