Josef Stalin is among history’s greatest mass murderers, responsible for the death of tens of millions of his own countrymen through pograms, purges, and paranoia.
So how could a black comedy on the guy work?
The answer, as you might have guessed, is right in the title: it’s not so much about him as what happened when he finally took his well-deserved dirt-nap.
The Death of Stalin (2017) is that rare political satire that manages to be both grimly funny and terrifyingly plausible. Based on a French graphic novel (which this reviewer actually read in translation, believe it or not), the film turns one of the most horrifying periods of the 20th-century into a dark farce — a depiction so absurd it can only be true.
Set in 1953, the movie opens with Joseph Stalin (Adrian McLoughlin) presiding over a Soviet Union paralyzed by fear. When he suddenly collapses from a cerebral hemorrhage, his inner circle — a rogues’ gallery of sycophants and sociopaths — descends into a mad scramble for power. The result is a savage comedy of bureaucracy, paranoia, and incompetence that only reminds us of how lucky we are to be rid of this guy (if only we were rid of communism as well…).
The film has an undeniable style — rapid-fire dialogue, overlapping insults, and characters so self-interested they can’t see how hilariously awful they are. Anyone familiar with director Armando Iannucci’s work on Veep will recognize the rhythm: the back-stabbing, the desperate image-management, the hysterical fear of saying the wrong thing. Here, however, the stakes are not elections or TV ratings — they’re life and death. Stalin didn’t give a whole lot of leeway; here, a misplaced word doesn’t cost you your career, it costs you your family.
Steve Buscemi all but steals the film as Nikita Khrushchev, the cunning opportunist who hides behind jokes but may be the smartest in the room. Simon Russell Beale’s Lavrentiy Beria, the dreaded secret police chief, is chilling — the perfect blend of charm and cruelty. Also great is Jeffrey Tambor’s bumbling Georgy Malenkov as the comic counterweight to Beria; he’s a man elevated beyond his competence and too vain to notice, a lethal boob. The entire cast is looking to shiv each other, all while terrified that Stalin — or even the ghost of Stalin — is watching.
(Click above for the movie’s official trailer)
The film’s comedy is pitch black. People are executed between punchlines; torture chambers lurk just off-screen. Yet somehow, the laughter feels earned. Iannucci refuses to sentimentalize history — he finds his humor not by trivializing these truly bad guys, but by exposing their absurd machinations. The Soviet regime, in Stalin’s hands, becomes a grotesque arena where everyone lies to survive and everyone knows everyone else is lying.
Visually, the film embraces a uniquely Soviet drabness: peeling wallpaper, heavy coats, dim lighting. The film feels both claustrophobic and farcical — a gray cage where the walls close in as we wait to see who will come out on top. And the (sometimes bizarre) use of classical music adds to the air of reality-sliding-into-lunacy.
You’ll have to keep reminding yourself that this movie is based on real people and real events. And the final sequence only adds to the unreality — and reminds us of the imbecilic, brutal reality of communist realpolitik.
In the end, The Death of Stalin works as a history lesson, a political allegory, and a truly savage comedy. It’s 1984 meets Monty Python (Python’s Michael Palin is actually in the movie). You laugh, then flinch, then laugh again, grateful that you weren’t anywhere near these people.
If only the movie was required viewing in today’s schools… we wouldn’t be confronted with the specter of communism, and its economic handmaiden socialism, on the rise again….
The Death of Stalin is available on all the usual streaming services, for free or less than five bucks. This is a genuinely unique film experience — funny, unsettling, and in the end, validating. It’s a reminder of what the world might look like if America hadn’t won the Cold War.
And we’ll see you this Sunday with another weekly Ops Drop, as well as a great two-part podcast with Jack Garcia, legendary FBI undercover!
