Kubrick's ice-cold satire: brilliant, sharp and still relevant

Rating: 10/10 (23 July 2007)

The best satires are those that, while related to a specific period, may be applied to the modern days as well. One such film is The Great Dictator, which was explicitly aimed at Hitler but also works as a mockery of every kind of dictatorship; another example is Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove, a cold-war satire which has lost none of its power considering nuclear weapons still exist and, albeit less than in the past, constitute a threat to the planet's safety.
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (one of the longest titles in history, but also one of the most poignant) is set in a dystopic reality where the conflict between USA and Soviet Union has reached disastrous proportions, leading the mad Gen. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) to believe the Russians have poisoned the American soldiers'water supplies, contaminating their "bodily fluids" as he puts it, and orders an irrevocable attack on Sovietic soil: a series of nuclear devices will be dropped on the enemy's territory unless someone convinces Ripper of the insanity of his actions. This task is appointed to Capt. Mandrake (Peter Sellers), who desperately tries to reach President Merkin Muffley (Sellers again) while trying to persuade the crazy general to end the nonsense he has started. Muffley, in the meantime, having learned of the situation, attempts to have a peaceful conversation with his Russian counterpart ("Well, Dimitri, one of our base commanders, he had a sort of... well, he went a little funny in the head... you know... just a little... funny") while his advisers, Gen. Turgidson (George C. Scott) and the titular scientist (still Sellers), think of what to do to keep humanity alive, given the Bomb on hostile soil will trigger a device called the Doomsday Machine (the name says it all).
The genius of Kubrick's masterpiece derives from the exaggeration of typically clichéd elements of other war movies: the officers' incompetence, the paranoid atmosphere, the soldiers' selfless bravery et al. All of these, especially the last one, flawlessly depicted by Texan Maj. "King" Kong (Slim Pickens in what was meant to be Sellers' fourth role), are funny because, although overblown, they look real thanks to each character's seriousness and commitment to the job. All the physical comedy performed by Gen. Turgidson would have looked silly if he were played by the wrong actor, but Scott manages to make even the most ridiculous gesture an organic, necessary part of his role. The same goes for Hayden: what could easily have been a low-quality parody of war-related madness becomes in his hands a realistic depiction of paranoia and (extreme) patriotism.
Neither of them, however, can match the brilliance and versatility of Sellers' triple act: the first (and one of the few) to get an Oscar nomination (Best Actor, more precisely) for playing multiple characters in the same movie, he successfully moves from pure slapstick (Strangelove) to typically British anxiety (Mandrake) and deadpan delivery (Muffley) without breaking a single sweat. Whether he is politely arguing with Hayden, discussing authority with Scott or struggling with his Nazi arm (one of cinema's most iconic images), he understands what will work in the right moment and shamelessly steals the whole picture. Without him, the film would not have been half as good as it is to this day, and that should be enough testament to his status as one of the greatest comedians of the 20th century.
In short, a must-see comedy and essential viewing for fans of either Kubrick or Sellers. Hell, it's so good it even makes the expression "Mein Fuhrer" raise laughs rather than cries of disgust.