For the first film in this series, I chose Armando Iannucci’s black comedy The Death of Stalin. I’ve been drawn to this film as I thoroughly enjoy Iannucci’s work, having stayed current on HBO’s Avenue 5 and loving prior work such as In the Loop and Veep. With a strong ensemble cast featuring Steve Buscemi, Jeffrey Tambor, Simon Russell Beale and Andrea Riseborough, and standout performances from Olga Kurylenko, Michael Palin, and Jason Issacs, this film relies heavily on the acting and the writers’ wit to carry through some pretty heavy material.
The story begins in Moscow in 1953, at the height of Stalin’s power and paranoia, with the opening scenes in the radio hall and the cabinet “meeting” doing a great job setting the tone of dread and distrust. Stalin, portrayed by the very capable Adrian McLoughlin, falls ill and shortly dies thereafter, leaving the cabinet of syncophants and schemers to their own devices to consolidate or seize power for themselves. Being unfamiliar with this era of USSR history myself, I did a quick search and found that while historical events were sped up in time for the sake of the movie, the main points of power division and conflict were indeed pretty accurate. I’m not terribly surprised by that, as Iannucci’s films and shows tend to satirize politics by showcasing the ridiculous rather than exaggerating it.
Steve Buscemi is a tour de force, Jeffrey Tambor is delightfully weak, and Michael Palin is comically chilling in his commitment to the Party, but I’d say the performance Simon Russell Beale turns in as the secret police NKVD Director Beria is standout and lends a gravitas to the film that would otherwise been Veep in funny hats. While unsurprising considering Beale’s strong Shakespearean background, he no the less commands the camera and the scenes he’s in. Jason Issacs as Field Marshall Zhukov, while limited in screen time, also steals the show with such a strong and boisterous military man, surrounded by men who only aspire to be strong.
Photography by Zac Nicholson is continually excellent, and while it lacks the “auteur” feel so many look for in cinematography, moments such as the trains letting off in Moscow and confronting the guard are so effective in building the tension that distracting, self involved camera work would’ve only served as a distraction. This film serves as a departure from Iannucci’s other work due to the script being an adaptation of a graphic novel of the same name, written by Fabien Nury and Thierry Robin. While the script is filled with brilliant quips and moments that you expect from Iannucci’s work (such as the new conductor being roused from bed and absconded at the same time as the lists being executed), the tone is markedly less whimsical, which I imagine is a result of the source material. While this more muted tone served the project well, I do enjoy the levity offered in other work such as Avenue 5.
As a result, I thoroughly enjoyed this film, and recommend it to others who enjoy scathing political satire and black comedy. I wouldn’t try to bring in people who don’t have the patience for long builds, or those who don’t pay attention while watching movies. I probably wouldn’t seek it out again myself, but wouldn’t be opposed to doing so with others just to catch more of the brilliant writing. If you could sit through The Social Network, you’d actually enjoy this one.
Rating 3/5
Enjoyed the film, wouldn’t watch again.
This review is part of the CoronaReviews, a series of quick reviews I’m going to write to stay sane while I wait for the COVID-19 shutdowns to end. I’ve got a long list of films I desperately need to catch up on, but if you have suggestions or commentary, comment below! I’d love to discuss it with you so I don’t lose my mind here by myself.