The plot: In 1953, Joseph Stalin (Adrian McLoughlin), the leader of the Soviet union, has died. As his inner circle tries to deal with the power vacuum, Deputy General Secretary Georgy Malenkov (Jeffrey Tambor), Moscow Party Head Nikita Khrushchev (Steve Buscemi) and head of the interior ministry Lavrentiy Beria (Simon Russell Beale) begin their plans to become the new leader. However, between those who wish to live up to Stalin's legacy and those who want to replace it with their own, things are about to get chaotic in Russia.
Paddy Considine starts the film off on a very strong note, setting the chaotic
slapstick tone of what would come after it while giving a great performance as
a radio producer who has to re-do a live performance just so Stalin can have a
recording of it. Buscemi is on fire here as Khrushchev, giving
his incredibly sharpened dialogue justice while serving as the embodiment of
the lesser of all evils within Stalin’s inner circle. Beale gets a lot of juice
out of his role as the conniving political manipulator (well, more so than
those around him at the very least), depicting vile and quick wit with equal
vigour. McLoughlin makes for a nicely memorable performance as the titular
dictator, while Rupert Friend as his son is basically the avatar of all things
politically paranoid. I swear, I could watch him rant about doctors literally
injecting American lies into his father’s brain for the rest of eternity.
Michael Palin does a fine job as another of Stalin’s circle, along with perfect
casting of getting one of the Pythons in something this soaked in absurdist
anarchy, Jason Isaacs makes for a very welcome presence as the general of the
Soviet Army, and Jeffrey Tambor… ugh. Okay, for the record, his presence in
this film is probably the only thing I would actively hold against it, as I
honestly wouldn’t have minded if they pulled an All The Money In The World
routine with his performance (might have even fit into the narrative,
considering Stalin’s history with photo doctoring). However, as the die-hard
servant of Stalin’s memory and as
another piece of the collective repartee, he still fits the bill quite well.
From his work in the UK on The Thick Of It to his
collaborations with Steve Coogan over his famous character Alan Partridge, even
his break-out into the U.S. with Veep, the name Armando Iannucci is synonymous
with sharp-tongued and astute satire. Thankfully, even on the big screen, that
holds true as this is easily one of the most immediately-quotable comedies I’ve
seen in months, if not years. Whether it’s the dialogue, featuring a slew of
juicy barbs between political opponents, the visuals, like Khrushchev being in
such a hurry to get to the recently-ill Stalin that he just pulls his suit over
his pyjamas, or even the background, like the walk-and-talk scenes where you’ll
see anything from head shots to people wrapped up in carpets and rolled down the
stairs, this shows a level of consistent engagement that is astounding to
behold.
I’d say that this makes for a nice refresher from the usual
“just talk shit and roll camera” style of comedy, except I think even this film
has a direct problem with its competition. When you have a scene where a main
character is actively chastising others for over-using jokes and to “get some
better fucking material”, it helps that the film attached to it has the brass
to follow through. Whatever jokes are made, they aren’t run into the ground nor
does the film feel the need to over-explain what makes the jokes funny; like
any real comedic writer, Ianucchi and
co-writers David Schneider, Ian Martin and Peter Fellows let the work speak for
itself and gives the audience enough credit to get it. As someone who has
railed against that very style of comedy for a while now, I definitely give a
tip of the hat to these guys for that.
Not that this is just wit for the sake of wit. As good as
the dialogue is, political satire relies on much more than just memorability
and surface-level engagement to be truly effective. It’s a good thing then that
Ianucchi is able to match his ability with quips with a real understanding of the
mechanics of politics. Specifically, how clogged the inner workings can get,
especially in the wake of a major power shift. There’s actually a scene in here
that perfectly sums up this film’s approach to the political details, and of
course, it’s a scene that is outrageously funny. It involves the main
characters all getting in their cars to get out of the driveway… but because
all of them are trying to be the first ones to get out, none of them are able
to move for a minute or two. That is the essence of this film: People who are
so focused on being the first ones to make a move that they end up blocked by
everyone else doing the same thing.
The narrative plays around with dramatic irony at times,
letting the simultaneous machinations result in scenarios where things happen
because the characters are uninformed of what the hell’s going on, but for the
most part, it sticks to the people making those moves and how much weaving is
involved to make them happen. Whether the people involved are trying to stay true
to Stalin’s legacy or push forward to new horizons, they are all still looking
to personal interests, allowing whatever death that occurs just roll off of
them. I mentioned Buscemi’s Khrushchev as the lesser of all evils, and while he
definitely comes across as someone with an actual moral compass (hence the
rushing, pyjamas and all, to make sure the leader of his country was okay),
he’s still someone who has to do terrible things to get his way. He can’t hold
a candle to Beria in terms of sheer vileness, but he still has a lot to answer
for… which leads me to the reason that this film was even made in the first
place.
Since Iannucci and co. were so courteous to let their work
speak for itself, I’m going to have Iannucci speak for himself for a bit here:
This is a film primarily about the need for political
compromise, allying one’s self with unsavoury people because of a shared
dislike for the “real” enemy. Hell, siding with the lesser of two evils is a
phenomenon that most of you reading this will be familiar with, as most
elections tend to follow that very pattern. Yeah, they’re not someone I’d sit
down with for a light lunch any day soon, but anything is better than letting
the other guy win. The duality of most politics, the “us vs. them” mantra, is
something of a necessity; most of the time, we have to side with one or the other, as any third-party rarely gets
the numbers needed for real change.
However, that same mentality results in us trying to make
that compromise as flattering as possible, either to others or even to
ourselves. Usually, this comes in the form of downplaying the actual crimes of
the side we’re supporting, just to emphasise how much worse the other side is.
Look at the Clinton/Trump dichotomy for those who support her: Yeah, Trump is a
walking disaster zone, but let’s not forget the war crimes under Hillary’s belt
too. That mentality of compromise, in the long run, lets people get away with
shit. It’s what results in Hitler being scarcely mentioned in the Germany of
today, while Stalin is still treated as the lesser evil in his country of
origin… even though, historically, Hitler cribbed quite a few pages out of
Stalin’s playbook. With how much political divides of today are resulting in
far more fighting than actual progress, this is the kind of satire that not
only speaks true to the collective of the time but also the collective of this time.
All in all, this is stone-cold brilliant. The performances
are top-notch, the dialogue they’re in service to is incredibly sharp, quick
and dead-on-target, the visuals allow for Iannucci to stick with his
mockumentary hand-held style while still making it cinema-grade, and the satire
within shows sparkling clarity about political discourse in all its ugliness.
What makes this even more impressive is that, even when the true grim details
of the story are literally pushed into the background, the consistent level of
humour here always sticks and never feels out-of-sorts or inappropriate at any
given moment. It admits the darkness, but never lets it overtake the light; now
that is how you do black comedy.
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