Film Review - The Death of Stalin (15)

Nobody's going to get killed, I promise you.

Anyone expecting The Death of Stalin to be a sombre history lesson should revise their expectations right away. Written and directed by Armando Ianucci (creator of TV political satires The Thick of It and Veep), this story of the Russian dictator's final day and its turbulent aftermath is first and last a farcical comedy, albeit a very dark one. It's also a reminder that power, regardless of time and place, corrupts in the same insidious fashion.

The year is 1953, and Josef Stalin's brutally violent reign is about to reach an abrupt conclusion. His closest political allies are a bunch of cronies and suck-ups, laughing uproariously at his jokes and competing to see who can achieve the highest hit-rate with their own. When mortality catches up with the mustachioed Russian Premier, these comrades' response is less than dignified - a barely-concealed scramble for control of the Party and the country itself. The arrival of Stalin's daughter and son in Moscow only complicates their efforts to manoeuvre into position for seizing power.

Ianucci's film is shot as beautifully as any period drama, but a number of shrewd moves make it instantly accessible. There's not a Russian inflection to be heard, every outrageous line being delivered in an entertaining variety of English and American accents. The dialogue is vintage Ianucci too, as pithy and scabrous as anything he wrote for his various hit TV series. The comedy here is both in the deliciously vivid language and in the characters' willingness to sacrifice all dignity in pursuit of their political goals. This may be Fifties Russia and the protagonists steeped in blood from their association with Stalin, but their bickering conversations and petty actions aren't that far from The Thick of It's Westminster crowd. 

The cast is magnificent across the board. Steve Buscemi is fevered and funny as Nikita Kruschev and Jeffrey Tambor comically ineffectual as Acting Premier Malenkov. Stalin's children, played by Andrea Riseborough and Rupert Friend, are a spite-drenched daddy's girl and a boozy loose cannon respectively. And Jason Isaacs is nothing less than hilarious as war hero General Zhukov, a puffed-up man's man, and possibly the key to power. It's also a joy to see Michael Palin back on screen as bumbling and morally compromised yes-man Molotov.

The stand-out, however, is Simon Russell Beale as the loathsome head of Stalin's secret police, Lavrentiy Beria. Fiercely intelligent and dryly humorous, he's also the most openly monstrous of the nasty bunch. Whether casually handing out death warrants or spitting venom on being challenged, Beale owns every scene - a compelling portrait of a deeply unpleasant human being with no brakes on what he will do to achieve power.

Perhaps the movie's greatest achievement is to be genuinely, consistently funny, while never flinching from the climate of murder and fear that Stalin has created. The cowardice, pettiness and raw ambition of those in his administration are lampooned without mercy, and the result is very possibly the best comedy of the year.

Gut Reaction: Total fascination and and regular laughter of the out-loud variety.

Ed's Verdict: A smart and timely reminder of what happens when the morally weak suck up to power, delivered with comic genius.