The Death of Stalin (2017)

"I've had nightmares that made more sense than this."

Armando Ianucci is a Scottish satirist best known for his work on Veep (2012) and In the Loop (2009) (and its TV progenitor The Thick of It (2005)). He's a genius, and has earned my attention whenever he drops a new project. His work is imbued with a sharply absurdist bent, and an eye for tearing apart the insanity of our modern institutions. I saw the trailers for The Death of Stalin, and was immediately excited at the prospect of seeing Ianucci's version of a momentous historical moment. I wasn't able to see it when it dropped in theaters last year, but it popped up as a $5.99 deal on Amazon prime, and I couldn't pass that up.

*** A Note: I am no historian, and so my review will be discussing the world of the film as presented by Ianucci. I have no way of knowing how well the film adheres to the historical record of the events it portrays***

Summary:

Uncle Joe has died. He leaves a gang of bumbling supplicants in his wake, and the fate of a nation balanced on a precipice over abject chaos.. His advisors quickly begin a madcap game of political backstabbing and scheming to determine who will take his place. It would all be hilarious (and it is) if it weren't so terrifying (which it also is).

Pros:

Demystifying Powerful Men: Ianucci has made the demystification of political power his bread and butter. What he does in The Death of Stalin is ratchet that quality up to eleven. These men are, mostly, preening, bumbling bureaucratic morons who happen to have curried favor with the most powerful man in Russia. When he is gone, they scramble around trying to consolidate their own power. But they aren't all mavericks, or geniuses, or dangerous chess masters. Ianucci shows us that sometimes power goes to whoever is shameless and bold enough to grab it by the balls. Khrushchev (spoiler) comes out on top, but not because he was he best of the schemers: he just happened to commit to his plan, after a considerable amount of bumbling himself, and lucked into some incredible timing. The message is clear: we imbue men with greatness. We mystify them in the first place. We drive their mythos. We denigrate ourselves at their feet, hype them, and sell our morals and our souls, at their altars. But they are just as inane and incompetent as the rest of us. I think this is an important thing to remember when considering how leaders are to be remembered.

A Shakespearean Heel Turn: Nikita Khrushchev, played with aplomb by Steve Buscemi, starts the film as a stuttering supplicant, and ends the film as the new power of the Russian government. His journey from one pole to the other is epic and a little heart-breaking as we see him dip his toes in, and then fully commit to utter villainy. Is what he's doing for the greater good? Maybe. Was he ever innocent in the first place? Almost certainly not. But it is great storytelling to watch someone transcend one station in life by evolving and adapting. Even if they do so by murdering and politically neutering their "friends" and banishing political rivals.

Everyone Knows The Score: The ensemble features some heavy hitters of British comedy: Michael Palin as the fair-weather Vyacheslav Molotov, Jeffrey Tambor as the self-important ass Georgy Malenkov, and a triumphant Jason Isaacs as the blustery Field Marshal Zhukov. Everyone understands the tone of the film, and commits to it. It is, by turns, bitingly funny, and heart-rendingly tragic. Friends and brothers and sons and husbands and wives betray each other with idiotic zeal. The tag line of this film bills it as a "Comedy of Terrors," and that's as apt I've ever seen.

British Dialects: Largely, everyone speaks with their natural dialects. Buscemi and Tambor are the lone Americans, which leaves everyone else rattling off lines with delicious British timbre. I loved it. Buscemi has played rats his entire career, and his Khrushchev is in peak form; Tambor's moronic basso profundo and noncommittal affect are perfection; and then Jason Isaacs stomps into frame as a militaristic peacock, replete with cutting edge cockney twang. There's something about the British affect, vernacular and anachronisms that Ianucci peppers into his script that highlight the zaniness of the proceedings. I was chuckling all the way through.

What We Do For Power, and What We Do For Those in Power: The characters are constantly engaging in histrionics and manic melodrama, either for the benefit of Stalin, or to prove to themselves (or whoever's listening) that they are faithful comrades to the state. The film acts as a master class of all the terrible things we do and behaviors we engage in to stay alive or to curry favor. Michael Palin's Molotov is a perfect example: he maintains his wife's guilt, knowing full well that her trial was a sham, always jockeying for the right words and the perfect shameless commitment, going so far as to argue zealously in favor of carrying out Stalin's latest hit list after his passing, little knowing that his name is on that list. He's grandstanding for his own execution and has no idea. The scene is hilarious, but incredibly tense, as some around the table know the truth, but cannot, for some reason, let him in on it. All of these men are bound by their own ridiculous rules and back themselves into increasingly terrifying corners by their own volition. By their own unwavering support for the status quo.

Quickly Paced: The film is only 107 minutes, and manages its story in a tidy, quickly-paced timeframe.

Cons:

Veddy, Veddy British: If you don't dig British humour, this one might not be for you, mate. It's jokes are dry and catty, like the best British comedies are. But, if you are an Anglophile, and are tuned in to what makes the British sense of humour so fun and interesting, definitely check it out.

In Conclusion:

I was here for Ianucci's biting satire, and he did not disappoint. His vision is cohesive, and uncompromisingly ridiculous, even in its savagery.

Should You Watch It?

The Death of Stalin is a comedy that isn't a comedy. It's a satire with a bloody razor's edge. Is that sounds like something you would like, give it a go.

Miscellany:

- The film was banned in Russia two days before its slated release (shocker). It was subsequently banned in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan.
- The end credits feature photographs with crudely scratched out or blacked out faces. This is an allusion to the Soviet government's actual practice of "deleting" figures from their history.
- In the film, Jason Isaacs's chest is comically strewn with medals. In fact, he wears fewer medals than the actual General Zhukov had. Ianucci thought that the actual number of medals was too unbelievable.
- If you can believe it, some historians have criticized the film for not fully or appropriately depicting the comedy of Stalinism. Ianucci, for his part, decided to scale down some of the historical absurdity to not distract the viewer.