[yasr_overall_rating]
Follows the Soviet dictator’s last days and depicts the chaos of the regime after his death.
Armando Iannucci has never been the one to shy away from scathing satire. After co-creating the ingenious British sitcom “Alan Partridge,” which followed the travails of a sardonic radio talk-show host (Steve Coogan), his focus shifted to taking merciless jabs at British politics in the TV series “The Thick of It,” and consequent film spin-off “In the Loop.” Then of course, “Veep” happened, raking in Emmy after Emmy – and deservedly so. Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ portrayal of the titular character as an obsessive, vehemently narcissistic, uber-intelligent, defiantly independent and ceaselessly arrogant go-getter anchored the show’s hilarity in something substantial and real. Iannucci satirizes U.S. politics, yes, but he also mourns them, carefully deconstructing the system to reveal how futile our struggle for true democracy is, how ideologies and people get swallowed up in the swamps of turgid bureaucracy.
Now he turns his attention to Russia in “The Death of Stalin,” a film that revolves around a very real event that occurred over half a decade ago and yet still lingers in many people’s minds. As I have mentioned in my reviews, though I have lived in America and Germany for well over two decades now, I was born in Russia, speak fluent Russian, and have family there. Many Americans seem to forget about Russia’s crucial part in winning WWII, producing films stateside that focus primarily on this country’s defeat of the Nazis – while it was the Russians that suffered the most losses and sacrifices, ultimately defeating the Germans during the historic Stalingrad battle. More so, Russians have become the Ultimate Villains, demonized in every news image, social media outlet, film and pop culture mention. I will not delve into the political reasons behind the recent flare-ups – that’s a topic for a different article – but there’s no denying there’s a continuous resentment/hatred imbued in everything Slavic-related.
Now, I may seem a bit defensive, but perhaps rightfully so. In these days of political instability, with so much bias and social-media-inspired hatred spreading like disease, I can’t help but feel like films, such as the recent Oscar-winning documentary “Icarus,” and now “The Death of Stalin,” serve to merely add fuel to the fire as opposed to reminding us of the importance of uniting as nations – two of the most powerful nations, to be precise. “Icarus” isn’t well-structured, its narrative rambling, until it resolutely settles on demonizing Russian Olympic athletes. Yet it won the Oscar against way-more-deserving competitors, all pumped up on zeitgeist steroids of its own. In “Stalin,” Iannucci depicts the infamous Russian leader as a pathetic, albeit powerful and fear-inducing, little man, shriveled up and dead, covered in his own urine. Whether that’s its goal or not, it reinforces the image of Russia as a weak, dumb, politically unstable nation, with a history to back it up. If my grandmother, who worships the man and also happens to be a wonderful, ethical woman, saw this, she would have a heart attack.
Does that mean the film should not exist? No, because I am a true proponent of not applying any sort of censorship when it comes to humor. We should be able to laugh at humanity’s flaws, no matter how atrocious – yet if we venture into very real territories, subjects that may prove truly offensive, we should tread carefully – otherwise it becomes crass. At this point, it’s less about censorship and more about sensitivity.
Iannucci knows American politics. The cast in “Veep” is all-American. He nails it on the head with the jokes in “Veep,” his scathing humor rightfully aimed at the politicians who resolutely guide us to annihilation. Yet it is difficult to satirize a complicated historical event of a country you have never lived in, because a) you will never truly have empirical knowledge of the contexts and details of the event, and b) you weren’t there to live it. So while the director is witty, wise and experienced enough to pull off some delightful feats with his cast and set-pieces, the film leaves a bitter aftertaste of yet another example of America – or England, for that matter – poking fun at painful history, while at the same time crumbling itself WHILE preaching about equality/prejudice, feminism, etc.
I had the same issue with “Inglourious Basterds,” which not only shamelessly rewrote history (still fresh in the minds of many human beings), it also depicted Hitler – an undoubtedly evil but cunning, highly intelligent man – as a mere spastic caricature. Like Iannucci, Tarantino was skillful enough to pull off a film that even fooled me into thinking it was a classic upon my first viewing – until the dust settled and that nasty taste seeped in. As talented as Tarantino is, who is he to mock tragedy? It made me badly wish he just stuck to the sincerity and intensity of that first sequence with Christoph Waltz and the milk.
Iannucci pretends to not even go for authenticity. With a mostly-British cast playing real-life figures – Michael Palin is the sniveling Vyacheslav Molotov, Simon Russell Beale is the vile Lavrenti Beria, Paul Whitehouse is the iniquitous Anastas Mikoyan, Andrea Riseborough is Stalin’s pragmatic daughter Svetlana – and some American names thrown in to dilute the image even more: Steve Buscemi as the scheming Nikita Khrushchev and Jeffrey Tambor as the dumb-as-nails Georgy Malenkov, “The Death of Stalin” reduces those real-life figures to one-or-two-adjective caricatures. At the same time, in the background, folks “hilariously” get butchered, strangled and thrown down the stairs under Stalin’s orders – but, as Iannucci said in the Q&A I attended, he never intended for the “people” to be the targets of his satire, just the political leaders running the show.
And one could argue the absurdity of the film – the very “Veep”-like hustle and bustle and power-grabbing games that ensue after the Great Leader perishes – serves as a good enough reason not to scrutinize it the way I’m doing. Thankfully, Iannucci happens to be a master of comic dialogue and the stalwart cast lives up to his words. Vasily Stalin (Rupert Friend), a constantly-intoxicated shell of a man, utters at one point, “I know the drill. Smile, shake hands and try not to call them cunts.” Georgy Zhukov (Jason Isaacs), at a different point, exclaims, “What’s a war hero got to do to get some lubrication around here?” It’s this juxtaposition of British slang/humor and Russian reality that both scathes and amuses.
The film is also well-shot and edited, although it does come off as a bit theatrical and Aaron Sorkin-y, its constant freeze-frame introductions of main and supplementary characters grating. The film is worth watching for its individual set-pieces rather than the overall narrative arc, which proves anticlimactic.
Yes, Stalin was inarguably a despot. But to many Russians he was – and still is – the Savior – clearly, as the film was banned in my Motherland, which I believe is too harsh, evoking the aforementioned censorship. However, I wouldn’t blame the older Russian generation for avoiding theaters if it had been released. Why would they want to see some middle-aged British guy pissing all over their god? Perhaps Iannucci should keep focusing on taking stabs at the imbeciles running this country, instead of laughing at dug-up pieces of the past that still resonate painfully with millions of people. Just a thought.
In select theaters March 23rd
