I gave "Poor Nastya" a try in 2021 – something feels off about the show (maybe it's me)

Hey folks!

You'd think something wild must've happened for anyone to start binge‑watching a Russian early‑2000s soap in 2021?

\n\n\n\n\n\nNo, it wasn’t because I ran out of things to watch or I was gearing up for retirement. Nostalgia? Sure, a little, but mostly I needed some creative background noise. I can’t do my stitching in total silence, so I like to have a low‑key drama humming in the background while I’m cross‑stitching. After I’d just re‑watched all my favorite long‑running series (links at the end), “Poor Nastya” (2003‑2004) popped into my mind like an old mixtape you forgot you owned. It’s the show that used to air while I was walking home from school, the one that drifted out of the TV set at my grandparents’ place and stuck in my head for years. The opening theme still rings in my ears, and the memory of those lavish ballrooms and the clatter of carriage wheels on cobblestones felt like a perfect, low‑key soundtrack for my needles and thread. \n\n\n\n\n\nThe plot’s a bit fuzzy now, but the characters in their gorgeous costumes stuck with me, so I was drawn in right away. The colors are rich, the fabrics look like they were sewn by hand, and every time a character twirled in a silk gown I could almost feel the weight of the fabric. Even though I can’t recall every twist of the storyline, the visual feast of lace, pearls, and powdered wigs was enough to pull me back into the world.

\n\n\n\n\n\nSTORY

The story takes place in 1839. Events unfold across estates near St. Petersburg and right in the capital, giving the series a nice mix of country manor intrigue and city‑sophisticated drama. The camera sweeps from snow‑covered pine forests to the glittering streets of the imperial capital, and you get a sense of the social divide that defined the era.

\n\n\n\n\n\nThe main players are noble families, the aristocracy, and even the royal dynasty. \n\n\n\n\n\nMost characters have real‑life surnames, but the series veers far from actual history, zeroing in on romance, balls, duels and intrigue. The writers clearly wanted to give us a glossy, feel‑good version of the period rather than a textbook lesson, so you’ll see plenty of secret love letters, dramatic unmaskings, and sword fights that feel more like stage choreography than real combat. Even the opening calls it a “television romance,” and that label sets the tone right from the first frame: you’re in for a story that’s more about hearts beating faster than about political accuracy.CHARACTERS

From the opening credits it’s obvious who gets the central roles. The camera lingers on a young woman in a flowing white dress, and you instantly know she’s the one we’ll be following.

First off, the show centers on Anna Platonova (Elena Korikova) – a ward of Baron Korf, who’s tipped for a future at the Imperial Theatre thanks to her stage talent and lovely voice. Anna’s story is the engine that drives most of the plot, and her journey from a modest serf background to the glittering world of high society feels like a classic rags‑to‑riches fairy tale, only with more corsets and fewer happy endings.

Everything would be fine, but despite her education and flawless manners, she’s a serf. Most people think her status is a secret, but stepping into high society, Anna takes a huge risk. The tension of a hidden lineage is a recurring theme, and every time she walks into a ballroom she’s walking a tightrope between admiration and scandal. Especially when a lovestruck noble shows up on the horizon – we’ll get to that.In my view, Elena Korikova’s biggest asset is her beauty and youth. I was convinced she’s about the same age as her heroine – around 20, not 31! That youthful glow helps sell the idea that Anna could plausibly be a fresh face on the stage, even if the actress was technically older.

She looks especially fresh at first, but later there are moments when she seems older. Sure, the crew and makeup artists did their part, but a lot of that credit belongs to the actress herself. When the camera catches her in soft light, you see a genuine innocence; when the lighting turns harsher, you can sense a fatigue that hints at the character’s inner conflict. Her performance, though, is another story. As someone noted before me, while the script paints the heroine as a brilliant actress, Korikova comes across clueless. The dialogue often feels like it’s been lifted straight from a stage melodrama, and her delivery sometimes lands flat, as if she’s reciting lines without really feeling them.

Lucky for her, the character is calm, so those flat emotions work okay. But any other vibe feels unconvincing, sometimes downright silly. When Anna is supposed to be swooning over a noble’s whispered promise, the scene can feel more like a rehearsal than a genuine spark. Overall, Anna’s portrayal feels muddled, and at times the heroine, meant to be pure, comes across as hypocritical because the actress fakes it as much as she can. The inconsistency makes it hard to root for her, and you end up watching the drama with a raised eyebrow rather than a full‑on emotional investment.

Anna’s guardian – old Baron Korf (Albert Filozov) strikes me as a strange character. He’s a mix of paternal protector and distant aristocrat, offering advice that feels both wise and oddly out‑of‑touch. His presence adds a layer of generational tension, reminding us that the world Anna is trying to enter is governed by rules that were written long before she was born.