By David Elliott
Flix Nosh is a personal movie menu,
fresh each Friday.
APPETIZER: Reviews of The
Death of Stalin and Unsane
The Death of Stalin
In
the mid-1950s an American TV program offered a grim, pseudo-documentary take on
the 1953 death of Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin. I was a kid, but mesmerized.
The names of the old Communist Party Politburo still resonate for me, but now
with a tinny effect, thanks to director Armando Iannucci. His The Death of Stalin, based upon a Titan
Comics graphic, reaches for wild lampoon that turns into an embalmed cackle.
The
comedy is curdled by the fact that Stalin, despite his Papa Bear moustache (now
fronting the face of actor Adrian McLaughlin), remains scary. This is the happy
guy who said that “to choose one’s victim, to prepare one’s plans minutely, to
stake an implacable vengeance, and then go to bed … there is nothing sweeter in
the world.” The power maniac slaughtered his own countrymen, converted
Politburo service into Russian roulette, defeated Hitler (after first losing
his nerve), and began a paranoid purge of a “Zionist doctors plot” before his
stroke, in bed, on March 1, 1953. During his last four days medical care was
minimal (including leeches), while his successors plotted. Some researchers now
think Stalin was poisoned by KGB chief and sadist Lavrenti Beria.
The
Kremlin-like settings are impressive, but the casting might better fit the
Moscow, Idaho zoo. As fat Nikita Khrushchev, Stalin’s favorite butt of humor at
vodka-soaked parties, lean Steve Buscemi hurls New York actor sarcasms.
Britain’s rotund Simon Russell Beale plays Beria as if he were Uncle Fester becoming
Rasputin. As shifty heir-in-waiting
Georgi Malenkov, Jeffrey Tambor seems to be an onion dome fond of weeping.
Michael Palin somehow confused cold, phlegmatic Vyacheslav Molotov with another
foreign secretary, Britain’s elegant Anthony Eden. As famously bald war hero
Marshal Georgi Zhukov, built like a T-34 tank, the tall, handsome Jason Isaacs
sports a fine head of hair and a vast crop of medals. Being Slavic is equated
with fits of hysteria as the shenanigans fall somewhere between Marxism and the
Marx Bros. The movie missed its musical cue: Sergei Prokofiev died the same day
as Stalin, but the film’s main music is by Tchaikovsky.
Political
satire is a hard game (rare successes: Ninotchka,
The Great Dictator, Wag the Dog, Dr.
Strangelove). Iannocci slathers on slapstick, dud gags, an autopsy, a
zinger about Abbott and Costello (should be Martin and Lewis, as 1953 was a big
year for them). I enjoyed the phrase “unauthorized narcissism,” and the way
Buscemi barks about lusting for Grace Kelly. The Stalinist Stooges bumble
around in a flop-sweat of defrosting terror until the transparently evil Beria
is shot dead, then cremated in a courtyard (odd echo of Hitler’s end). The
laughs are lost in the samovar, or maybe Stalin’s moustache.
Unsane
Steven
Soderbergh made three asinine Danny Ocean comedies, which took macho hipness
down to ankle level. But in a checkered career, playing with a chessman’s
verve, he’s also given us sex, lies and
videotape, The Limey, Erin Brockovich, King of the Hill, the rustic fun
of Logan
Lucky and TV’s grimly effective The
Knick (beefcake fans enjoy Magic Mike).
For Unsane, a cheap thriller shot
very quickly, Soderbergh directed, edited and photographed using his three
iPhone 7 Plus cameras fitted with different lenses. To say he “phoned the film
in” would be a little glib.
Fresh
from dewy Queen Liz II on The Crown,
Claire Foy turns American, haggard and desperate as Sawyer, a sharp biz-wiz who
fled an obsessed stalker in Boston. Now she gets trapped in a mental therapy
“clinic” where (presto demento!) her lovesick chaser turns up on the staff. At
first there are good jabs about shady medical practice and insurance scamming,
but the bear-like stalker (Joshua Leonard) hauls the story into pulp, with
creepy implausibility. Soderbergh’s images dangle the vague premise that maybe
this is just Sawyer’s nightmare as shots turn fuzzy with shadows, faces loom in
fish-eyed exaggeration. Unsane
underwhelms, despite good work by Jay Pharaoh as a calmly decent patient, a
spry cameo by Matt Damon, and murmuring hints of Sam Fuller’s Shock Corridor. I have read comment
comparing this movie to Kafka, but Soderbergh probably got that out of his
system with his vivid, faltering Kafka
in 1991.
SALAD (A List)
Bravura Film Portrayals of Real
Political Leaders:
Charles
Laughton as Henry in The Private Life of
Henry VIII, 1933; Henry Fonda as Abraham Lincoln in Young Mr. Lincoln, 1939; Charles Chaplin as Hinkle (Hitler) in The Great Dictator, 1940; Nikolai
Cherkassov as Ivan in Ivan the Terrible,
I and II, 1944-46; Orson Welles as Cesare Borgia in Prince of Foxes, 1949; Alec Guinness as Benjamin Disraeli in The Mudlark, 1950; Marlon Brando as
Emiliano Zapata in Viva Zapata!,
1952; Herbert Lom as Napoleon in War and
Peace, 1956; Bob Hope as Jimmy Walker in Beau James, 1957; Ben Kingsley as the Mahatma in Gandhi, 1982; Gerard Depardieu as
Georges Danton in Danton, 1983;
Philip Baker Hall as Richard Nixon in Secret
Honor, 1984; Paul Newman as Earl Long in Blaze, 1989; Gary Sinise as Harry in Truman, 1995; Madonna as Evita Peron in Evita, 1996; Cate Blanchettt as Elizabeth I in Elizabeth, 1998; Eriq Ebouaney as Patrice Lumumba in Lumumba, 2000; Gael Garcia Bernal as
Ernesto “Che” Guevara in The Motorcycle
Diaries, 2004; Bruno Ganz as Hitler in Downfall,
2004; Paul Giamatti as John Adams,
2008; Filippo Timi as Benito Mussolini in Vincere,
2010; Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher in The
Iron Lady, 2011; Daniel Day-Lewis as Lincoln,
2012; Bryan Cranston as Lyndon Johnson in All the Way, 2016; Gary Oldman as Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, 2017.
WINE (Vin Orsonaire de Chateau Welles)
On
June 29, 1940, Orson Welles shot his first scene for Citizen Kane: the newsreel staff crammed into a screening room,
being told to track down Kane’s “Rosebud.” For ten hours the neophyte filmed,
“rearranging his actors, asking for more overlapping of dialog, making sure
there was enough cigarette smoke filtering through the light from the
projection booth … He attempted shots never successfully used in a film before,
(even) having the camera shoot directly into blazing arcs. A special lens
coating had to be used on the camera to cut the glare of lights shining into
it.” (Shot as a “test,” the debut footage was used after minor editing. From
Frank Brady’s Citizen Welles.)
ENTRÉE (Starlight Rising)
A
unique entertainment, Funny Face
(1957) “endures with few wrinkles. John Russell Taylor’s The Hollywood Musical calls it ‘about as near flawless as one can
hope for in an imperfect world, (and) also virtually the death-knell of the
intimate, integrated musical as we had come to know and love it.’ It lost in
all four Oscars nominations. A year later Gigi,
a candy-box musical rehab of Hepburn’s Broadway hit, starring Leslie Caron, won
nine statues.” (From the Audrey Hepburn/Funny
Face chapter of my book Starlight
Rising: Acting Up in Movies, available from Amazon, Nook and Kindle.)
DESSERT (An Image)
A great movie image is more than a
still, it’s a distillation.
Newsreel
editor Rawlston (Philip Van Zandt, right) orders reporter Thompson (William
Alland) to find Rosebud “dead or alive,” in Citizen
Kane (RKO, 1941; director Orson Welles, cinematographer Gregg Toland).
I think it was Martin Amis who wrote that it's nearly impossible to make Stalin funny. Seems to me that it's almost too easy to make a fool of Hitler, with that silly little mustache of his, but Stalin's was (like him) no-nonsense and terrifying.
ReplyDeleteAce remark, Arthur. I read somewhere that the Russians had many jokes about the system, but very few about Stalin. Pretty clearly, under Joe the Kremlin did not follow comedy club rules.
ReplyDelete