Review #1,312: 'The Death of Stalin' (2017)

After spending most of the 1990s helping create the likes of The Day Today and I'm Alan Partridge - two of the greatest comedy works to have ever come out of Britain - satirist Armando Iannucci really made a name for himself with The Thick of It, a political farce centred around a bunch of politicians and spin doctors within a fictional government department going to ridiculous lengths to further their own careers and avoid the sack at the behest of an unseen prime minister. This led to the brilliant spin-off feature film In the Loop, before he would go on to tackle U.S. politics with acclaimed HBO series Veep. These groundbreaking satires now seem like they were a mere warm-up for his most ambitious project yet, The Death of Stalin, which covers the panic-stricken aftermath following the demise of one of the Soviet Union most notorious dictators, Joseph Stalin.

For the film, Iannucci has gathered together some of the finest British actors working today: those who are as comfortable with improvisation as they are with brooding monologues. Michael Palin is Molotov, the nervously chirpy minister who remained loyal to Stalin after the execution of his wife; Andrea Riseborough is Svetlana, Stalin's emotionally crumbled daughter; and Rupert Fried is the drunken son Vasily. Most impressive of all is Simon Russell Beale as the reptilian Lavrenti Beria, a man renowned for his love of rape and torture who is now desperately picking up the scraps and trying to seize power. Working against Beria is Steve Buscemi's Khrushchev, the former cabinet jester who may actually be the country's best bet. Trying to hold it all together is Jeffrey Tambor's timid Malenkov, who despite unwavering loyalty to his leader discovers his name on a death list before the big guy drops dead, and is installed as acting Premier shortly after.

There are many belly laughs to be enjoyed in The Death of Stalin, but Iannucci's approach to the subject matter often approaches horror territory. While the worst the players in The Thick of It faced was public embarrassment or a dressing down from Malcolm Tucker, here one ill-timed comment can land you with a bullet in the head. It's an incredibly scary place, where characters stroll nonchalantly through grey buildings as screams and gunshots hum in the background, and people are taken from their homes by armed officers for some imagined slight. The comedy and tragedy are incredibly well-balanced, and intensifies the absurdity of political life to genuinely concerning levels. Watching the terrible events unfold as these desperate men stutter and scurry around like rats, willing to back-stab and manipulate their colleagues without pausing for breath if it means buying themselves some extra time, is irresistible. As you would expect, Iannucci's script (co-written by David Schneider and Ian Martin) is expletive-laden and sharp as a dagger, and the entire ensemble are at the top of their game. It's unlikely The Death of Stalin will ever see a release in Russia, but someone should definitely suggest Putin adds it to his IMDb watchlist.


Directed by: Armando Iannucci
Starring: Steve Buscemi, Simon Russell Beale, Jeffrey Tambor, Andrea Riseborough, Michael Palin, Paddy Considine, Jason Isaacs, Rupert Friend, Olga Kurylenko
Country: UK/France/Belgium

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,046: 'Vampire Academy' (2014)

Mark Waters' Vampire Academy, based on the hugely successful series of young-adult novels by author Richelle Mead, spends so much of its 100-plus minute running time trying to explain itself and attempting to conjure the same level of mass hysteria that surrounded the likes of the Twilight and Harry Potter books, that it isolates nigh-on everybody apart from those already completely in love with the source material. It's an uncomfortable hybrid of the aforementioned Twilight (sexy vampires!) and Harry Potter (a secret school for magical types!), yet makes Stephanie Meyer and J.K. Rowling's work seem like Dostoyevsky in comparison.

Rose Hathaway (Zoey Deutch) and Lissa Dragomir (Lucy Fry) have run away from St. Vladimir's Academy, trying desperately to live like real humans do. Rose is a Dhampir, a half-vampire, half-human hybrid who has dedicated her life to protecting Lissa, a royal Moroi (peace-loving vampire), and the two share a psychic connection which allows Rose to occasional eavesdrop on Lissa. A year after fleeing the school, they are re-captured by 'dreamy' Russian Dhampir Dimitri (Danila Kozlovsky), who whisks them both back into the care of headmistress Kirova (Olga Kurylenko), but not before battling off some red-eyed Strigoi (evil vampire). Once back, Lissa is the victim of a series of attacks, including dead animals being left for her to find, and threats scrawled on her wall written in blood.

It's the slightest of plots, yet Vampire Academy still somehow manages to feel over-stuffed. While Rose struggles to explain the entire universe as well as several characters' back-stories via her own brand of sarcastic narration ripped shamelessly from Juno (2007), there's little time to catch up with what is actually going on and no time at all to care. Even for a film that feels like it was based on a teenagers' work of clumsily sculpted fan-fiction (although I haven't read the book), the complete absence of wit and social observation comes as a shock given the film boasts the talents of Daniel Waters, who wrote the wonderfully dark Heathers (1988), and his brother Mark, director of the surprisingly hilarious Mean Girls (2004). Any plans for a franchise were quickly and thankfully scrapped when the film bombed upon release, and it's not difficult to see why. The whole experience is stilted and awkward, and Deutch is unbearably annoying throughout.


Directed by: Mark Waters
Starring: Zoey Deutch, Lucy Fry, Danila Kozlovsky, Gabriel Byrne, Dominic Sherwood, Olga Kurylenko, Sarah Hyland
Country: USA/UK

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #922: 'Seven Psychopaths' (2012)

Even though I wasn't blown away by Irish playwright Martin McDonagh's directorial debut, In Bruges (2008), the film contained enough memorable one-liners and great performances to have me anticipating his next feature. In the four years that elapsed between In Bruges and his follow-up Seven Psychopaths, Martin's brother John Michael wrote and directed the offensively hilarious The Guard (2011), and in 2014 gave us Calvary, one of the truly great films of that year. Martin's limelight has been stolen somewhat, and Seven Psychopaths is a slight let-down. It's a movie about movies, or rather a movie within a movie, or even a movie without a movie - either way, it's a bit of a mess.

Script-writer Marty (Colin Farrell) has writer's block. He knows what his next movie is going to be called - Seven Psychopaths - but the title is all he has. Struggling with alcoholism, he tries to keep his girlfriend Kaya (Abbie Cornish) happy while his unhinged best friend Billy (Sam Rockwell) tries to worm his way into a writing credit. Looking to avoid creating yet another movie glamorising violence, he wants his psychopaths to retain some humanity and have the message of his movie be about peace and love. Billy suggests he takes inspiration from the 'Jack of Diamonds' killer, who only kills high-ranking mobsters and is currently on a killing spree in Los Angeles, and they take an ad out in the local paper asking for real-life psychopaths to come and tell their story.

Billy also kidnaps dogs from rich folk for a living along with his partner-in-crime Hans (Christopher Walken), but they have just stolen a Shih Tzu from the wrong man - gangster and madman Charlie (Woody Harrelson) - a man we first meet trying to fix his gun so he can shoot the young girl who had the dog in her care in the face. Marty has the vaguest of ideas about his other psychopaths - one being a Vietnamese war veteran (Long Nguyen) dressed as a priest looking to avenge his family's murder during the war, and another a quaker (Harry Dean Stanton) who stalks his daughter's killer for decades - but no way of connecting them and one story possibly accidentally stolen. With Charlie on their tail, Marty, Billy and Hans flee to the desert to contemplate their fate and finish the script once and for all.

This is an odd film from start to finish. The opening scene depicts two gangster (Michael Stuhlbarg and Michael Pitt) discussing famous murders of people being shot through the eyeball, before being blown away themselves by the masked Jack of Diamonds killer, It's reminiscent of the Tarantino-inspired wave of self-aware crime flicks of the 1990's, where pop-culture references and quirky humour trumped anything dark and serious. The use of freeze-frames to introduce it's collection of psychopaths also reminded me of the 1990's, when Danny Boyle's Trainspotting (1996) opened the floodgates for countless inferior imitators in Britain to do the very same. Are these the kinds of movies McDonagh was offered in the wake of a successful debut and is now satirising them? Or did he just run out of ideas and resort to emulating a now-dated era?

I found this the main problem with Seven Psychopaths, and I felt like I could never be sure if McDonagh was being smart, lazy, or both in an ironic clever-clever way. At the half-way point, the film begins to drag and meander as if McDonagh had genuine writer's block (there's a reason the main character is Irish and called Marty) but kept writing in the hope that it would eventually work itself out. But Seven Psychopaths does have moments of inspiration. As Hans, Christopher Walken makes the welcome return to the large roles that seem to have evaded him of late, and delivers a performance of real humanity. The dialogue too, is as quotable and vicious as you would expect from the man who penned In Bruges, with the humour providing a welcome distraction from the barrage of exhaustive violence - and maybe that's the point. But whatever the point, this will more likely leave you scratching your head trying to figure it out.


Directed by: Martin McDonagh
Starring: Colin Farrell, Sam Rockwell, Christopher Walken, Woody Harrelson, Tom Waits, Olga Kurylenko, Abbie Cornish, Harry Dean Stanton
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie