THE DEATH OF STALIN

Based on the French graphic novel La mort de Staline by Fabien Nury, this film depicts the Soviet power struggles following the death of Joseph Stalin in 1953. Directed and co-written by Armando Iannucci, it marks his first directorial outing since he left showrunner duties on the HBO series Veep, which he created. Armando has been a fixture amidst British comedy for the last 30 years, primarily in co-creating Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge & I'm Alan Partridge, working with Steve Coogan. He also worked with Chris Morris, creating the news satires The Day Today & Brass Eye (which were a clear inspiration for The Chaser's CNNNN comedy program) - he also created the UK TV show The Thick of it and directed the subsequent film of that series, In The Loop. Though what introduced him to US audiences was his HBO series, Veep. 

The Death of Stalin showcases a disparate cast of English-speaking actors (all with diverse accents, nicely reflecting the Soviet melting pot of mixed cultures and languages) to play the senior brass of the Communist Party who were scrambling to maintain a semblance of order after the death of their leader. Stalin’s underlings include Jeffrey Tambor as interim boss Malenkov, Steve Buscemi as acting general secretary (and future premier) Nikita Khrushchev, Monty Python's Michael Palin as foreign affairs minister Molotov and  UK theatre actor Simon Russell Beale as security chief Beria.

Depicted as bumbling and ridiculous, the group are at once motivated by paranoia and self-preservation as much as power-hungry ambition and find themselves paralysed by the awful truth that anyone who puts their head above the parapet to act upon a desire to seize power, could find themselves being shot at dawn against a courtyard wall. In Stalin’s presence, the group are just wombling suck-up's, but now that he's dead, each would gladly crawl over their dead compatriots in order to take his place. Stylistically speaking, Iannucci introduces this motley array of political creatures during walk and talks and fast paced commentary, so at times, it can require keeping track of the plot mechanics - which is no bad thing, it's always gratifying to see filmmaker who assumes his audience is as smart as they are.

Treading a fascinating line between historical truth and near farcical comedy, the darkly comic real world sandbox is similar to the one Kubrick played in for Dr. Strangelove (or How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the bomb). Viewed in that light, it's admirable that Iannucci doesn't shy away from the historical horrors committed by Stalin's regime yet still mines the situation for laughs. This climate of fear and paranoia in Moscow is wonderfully demonstrated in the opening segment, where the Moscow Symphony Orchestra perform a concert and at its conclusion, Stalin's 'people' call and request a recording - except it wasn't recorded. So, terrified of being taken away in the night for 'enhanced interrogation',  the fearful musicians repeat and record the whole performance, including finding another conductor (in reality, they had to ask THREE different conductors because the first fainted under the stress and the second was too drunk) and forcing the audience to re-watch and re-applaud accordingly.

Given the buffoonery on display, it's no surprise that The Death of Stalin was banned in Russia by their Culture ministry - though why it was initially approved for exhibition and then pulled at the eleventh hour, suggests top brass in Russia had their attention drawn to an upstart film that addressed a dark passage in their country's history - and was a comedy. Caustic, dark and very funny, there's an exhilaration in seeing political comedy this barbed and this daring.