Ulya (2026) ‘Cannes’ Movie Review: Kārlis Arnolds Avots’ Sincerity Doesn’t Save a Sketchy Biopic

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In “Ulya,” Viesturs Kairišs takes a bold gamble by casting Kārlis Arnolds Avots in the lead role. The idea was admittedly Avots’ own. The Latvian actor has already proven his mettle. His breakout role in the 2024 series “Soviet Jeans” is a thrilling testament to his considerable talent. He’s one of those actors capable of holding the frame resolutely despite the scene being effete.

However, Avots’ casting as two-time Olympic champion Uljana Semjonova hits jarring notes in spite of sincerity and poignance. He’s essaying a woman who was one of the most formidable, decorated basketball players of all time. Premiering in Un Certain Regard at the Cannes Film Festival, “Ulya” jostles to find its feet.

Both the director and actor are hyper-aware of the sheer risk this entails. But they are more tantalised and seduced by the potential here for subversive play, the cheekiness that can be in store if they push the envelope. The challenge is remarkable, and the pair does step up for it. But how far does the ambitious intent translate into something audacious?

The results swing between patently middling and sporadic stretches of conviction. However, the writing isn’t adept enough to string it all together. We are drawn to eastern Latvia in 1964. Ulya keeps to herself in a countryside family setting. She doesn’t seem to have grand expectations from life. Her desires don’t enter the conversation. She’s almost content. But her rapidly rising height presents a unique problem. It’s the butt of jokes, the instant topic of ridicule and judgment.

Suddenly, her sister’s fiancé shares her details with the Riga women’s team. She opposes it initially. She has no clue about basketball. Her longing for home is intense, distracting her. Her position in the team fluctuates, being viewed as naturally advantageous due to her tallness and her flailing efforts. Can she prove herself? It’s a journey of coming closer to her own capabilities, stretching the boundaries of what she can accomplish if she commits with greater, no-holds-barred ferocity.

“Ulya” is handsomely produced and elegantly shot, yet it doesn’t quite come together. It’s one of those films where a lot of compelling elements are present but not necessarily in tandem to summon sustained brilliance. Its images are stunning, thanks to DP Wojciech Staroń’s immaculate skill. Scene after scene, the film attests to a sharp visual eye.

But its moorings struggle to find weight and significance. The screenplay, which Avots co-wrote with Livia Ulman and Andris Feldmanis, doesn’t succeed in establishing a persuasive flow. It’s too structurally disjointed, patchy, frequently allowing itself to be rescued by striking shots alone, with fundamental scenes bordering on ineffective.

“Ulya” wrangles with the question of riveting the viewer. It follows a journey with a discernible outline, a basic idea of where things might be headed. There will be triumph, the odds being slashed away, an assertion of will, and a declaration of the success that can arrive if one keeps pushing. Discrimination and prejudice will rear their heads.

These hostilities are part of the process. One is told again and again what they cannot achieve. The trick is not to allow yourself to be subsumed by the bullying, cut down into inconsequential slovenliness. Emergence can happen when one has forged resistance against the constant disparagement. Ulya finds herself at a pivotal crossroads. It’s a dilemma whose fallout has the power to change her life’s trajectory. A slew of scenes are devoted to the limit Ulya hits with alarming frequency.

Does she want to put herself through the exhausting, challenging competition or retreat to domesticity? The two hold starkly varying consequences. If she keeps pining for the latter, she might have to just be content with small joys. Basketball, on the other hand, promises a world of riches, fame, and dizzying heights. To match in stride, she has to prepare herself to do what it takes. The process is long, arduous, and draining. If she persists, though, there might be light at the end of the road. Avots bring anguish and strain aplenty.

Like always, he has a fine hold over the emotional terrain. He needs no overwrought lines to break your heart. A single shifting look of recognition can stab with immensity. Ulya has to impress a lot of people, but also learn to reckon with what she truly wants. The film veers close to wrenching effects but also battles a tussle. It cannot quite crack an emotional connection. It feels distant despite the unwavering intimate access. Neither do the basketball scenes help; they are more ham-fisted than convincing. “Ulya” seeks to be a hymn of triumph over adversity and mockery, but it is stunted and frequently dull. You wish for it to be energised, but it remains dispirited and never takes off.