Armando Iannucci's The Death of Stalin has been praised to the skies, but largely fell flat for me. In framing the death of a larger than life tyrant and the attendant political machinations, Iannucci is attempting a black comedy along the lines of Dr. Strangelove and Wag the Dog. His cast is largely game to the challenge and Jason Isaacs, Steve Buscemi and Simon Russell Beale offer moments of merriment. However, Iannucci overly indulges his players, so that less disciplined performers, most egregiously Jeffrey Tambor, resort to schtick and the overall effect is one of mild amusement rather than hilarity.
Iannucci tries to lampoon the herd mentality of totalitarian politics, both among the masses and its ostensible leaders, but has no visual strategy to underline his theme. The kitsch of the funeral barely registers and comic possibilities, such as the introduction of Stalin's look-alikes, are muffed. Iannucci's narrative is overstuffed: he crams a Mozart concert and Beria's execution into the timeline of the film when, in reality, these events did not occur around the time of Stalin's death. Iannucci seems torn between making his characters cartoons for comic effect and honoring historical reality. Buscemi's Khrushchev is portrayed as the token mensch simply to provide the audience with someone to root for.
I am a Russian history buff and am perhaps being a little too hard on this film because I have read the source material and am familiar with the ample riches that Iannucci had at his disposal. Instead of sturdy tomes such as those by Edvard Radzinsky and Simon Sebag Montefiore, Iannucci has based his movie on a graphic novel. I have nothing against graphic novels or comic books. Heck, Maus is one of the greatest works of our time. However, this does seem to be a case of a director sinking to the level of his material rather than rising above it. The Death of Stalin is a silly film and not much more.
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