The year is 1953, and Joseph Stalin (Adrian McLoughlin) has been in power for nearly thirty years. One night, as he sits down to enjoy some music, his own mortality slaps him in the face and changes the course of Russia forever. After his passing his closest followers begin fighting one another, tooth and nail, for power. Throw in Stalin’s eccentric daughter, Svetlana (Andrea Riseborough), and estranged son, Vasily (Rupert Friend), and The Death of Stalin turns into a real dumpster fire. As Stalin’s friends, family and confidants struggle for power, Russia, and all of its inhabitants, see a new side to the controversial practices of Stalin’s rule.
On the surface The Death of Stalin plays out like a lopsided, ill-prepared and poorly performed mess. Driven by nearly a dozen cast members, from all over the world (sporting a number of unrelated accents), the film feels fractured, incomplete and ultimately dissatisfying. However, as viewers dive deeper and deeper into the satirical nature of the film, they begin to understand that the seemingly mistake-ridden casting choices have a very specific meaning. The idiosyncratic cast consists of Steve Buscemi (Nikita Khrushchev), Jason Isaacs (Field Marshal Zhukov), Simon Russell Beale (Lavrenti Beria) and others who deliver a message so cynically clever that viewers can’t help but laugh.
As all of these accents are spewed from the mouths of these incredibly unique characters, viewers cannot help but to question the choices made by casting director Sarah Crowe. Yet, these decisions make so much sense. As fractured as the cast appears, it beautifully reflects the severed nature of Stalin’s cohort and Russia as a whole. There appears to be much simpler ways to project the ideas of crumbling Russia than to hire a series of culturally and stylistically different actors sporting a number of different accents, but that’s what makes this particular decision so appealing. As the purpose behind this decision comes to light, the comedic brilliance behind what each actor brings to the table is noticed better than before. Michael Palin (Vyacheslav Molotov), Jeffrey Tambor (Georgy Malenkov) and the rest of the cast are able to feed off of one another’s energy and provide genuine humor throughout the course of The Death of Stalin.
For a bit, however, The Death of Stalin loses its comedic allure (around the one hour and twenty minute mark). With the comedy much more subtle and less often, the film, out of necessity, relies much more heavily on the acting ability of the cast. It is from this point forward, however, that the actors shine the brightest. While their abilities are clear throughout the course of the entire film, when the success of The Death of Stalin hinged on their performances, they delivered better than ever.
The Death of Stalin is splendidly twisted, superbly funny, and astutely acted. Buscemi absolutely steals the show and manages to make everyone around him leaps and bounds better. As viewers navigate through the ultimately demented story of death and the power struggle that ensues after, they pick up on the nuances that make The Death of Stalin a true hit. Writer-director Armando Iannucci (and too many other writers to name) finds ways to bring to life the ridiculousness of the Stalin administration while keeping viewers entertained throughout the entire production.
Directed by Armando Iannucci. Written by Armando Iannucci, David Schneider, Ian Martin, Peter Fellows, Fabien Nury, & Thierry Robin. Starring Steve Buscemi, Simon Russell Beale, Jeffrey Tambor, Andrea Riseborough, Olga Kurylenko, etc.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/10
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