‘Death of Stalin’ hilarious, vexing, brilliant
Lots of movies mix comedy and horror. ❚ But Armando Iannucci’s “The Death of Stalin” makes real-life horrors the source of hilarity — and it is hilarious — while never making light of the insanity that inspired it. That’s a difficult balance to achieve, but Iannucci, armed with a stable of actors perfectly attuned to his madman vision, carries it off beautifully. (This isn’t a surprise from the Iannucci, the creator of “Veep” and “The Thick of It,” who also wrote and directed “In the Loop.” These are works of
scathing, profane genius.)
And while the events of “The Death of Stalin” took place more than 60 years ago, the vibe of out-of-control political mayhem could not feel more timely. Whether you consider that funny or sad depends upon your point of view.
The film is about exactly what the title suggests — the death of Josef Stalin (Adrian McLoughlin), the brutal dictator of the Soviet Union, and the chaotic political maneuvering that followed, all colored by the paranoia his deadly reign created. For instance, after suffering a stroke, Stalin had to wait hours for a doctor’s care — because all of the competent doctors had either been shipped off to Siberia or worse.
We get a taste of Stalin’s medicine up front. The film opens with a live classical-music performance that Stalin hears on the radio while working at his desk. He likes it (he’s got a thing for John Wayne movies, too) and calls the radio studio to ask for a recording. Now.
One problem: No one was recording. So the terrified engineer rustles everyone back and drags people in off the street to replace the original audience for a quick recreation. One problem: the featured pianist (Olga Kurylenko), who has lost family members to Stalin’s rule, refuses to perform.
It all goes about as well as you would expect. (The conductor faints.)
It’s all to illustrate the grip Stalin has on Soviet life — a grip that continues, if not strengthens, during and after death. Even before he dies, the scheming begins. Lavrenti Beria (Simon Russell Beale), the head of the secret police, starts burning papers and revising the enemies hit list while Stalin’s heart still beats.
Soon, wearing his suit over his pajamas because he rushed out so quickly, arrives Nikita Khrushchev (a brilliant Steve Buscemi, who is probably the last person you’d think of to play Khrushchev but turns out to be maybe the best). He’s got his own plans. Vyacheslav Molotov (Michael Palin) and fellow deputy minister and heir apparent Georgy Malenkov (Jeffrey Tambor) are more clueless, but ultimately no less dangerous.
Later, Field Marshal Zhukov (Jason Isaacs) arrives, ready to assist whatever coup might be available. Plus there is Stalin’s son, Vasily (Rupert Friend), a mean drunk, and his sister, Svetlana (Andrea Riseborough), to be dealt with. The treatment of Svetlana makes for an interesting barometer of how the succession goes.
When she arrives, Khrushchev and Beria and the others literally race to her; later, after things have been ironed out, she’ll be treated differently.
These men will scheme and backstab and shift loyalties endlessly. Meanwhile more than 1,500 civilians will be slaughtered as they try to rush the funeral.
How is this funny? It’s a lot easier to watch the film and see than to try to explain it. Part of it has to do with blame — these dopes are falling all over themselves to accuse each other. But a bigger part has to do with the almost unfathomable ridiculousness of the situation. Somehow here, and in his other work, Iannucci masterfully taps into this dichotomy and mines it for laugh-outloud humor. It’s fearless, and if he didn’t have such a deft touch, it would be obscene.
The actors are tremendous. Of course the only way to perform this kind of material is to play it straight, and they do. On some level they understand that they have been living in a nightmare. Now they seem determined to fight — to the death if necessary — to continue it.
And that, it turns out, is entertainment.