It's no Animal Farm

Rating: 5/10 (4 April 2018)

The Death of Stalin has all of the hallmarks to be a better comedy-satire: good actors, a good story, and bawdy irreverence. Yet it has all the hallmarks of the British sense of humor: a dry wryness, a wry dryness, and a wink-wink-nudge-nudge self-awareness of how selfish, piggish, and unaware humans can be from time to time.
Others have suggested this is a poignant political satire, given the current state of affairs. I do not see that, for I do not see the poignancy of watching a badly-toupeed, over-makeuped Jeffrey Tambor frown foolishly, of watching balded Steve Buscemi gesticulate in pajamas, of watching mustachioed Michael Palin downplay his own sense of comedic style.
Based on a graphic novel (ahem, big comic book), it recalls icons like Animal Farm or Dr. Strangelove, as we, the people, get to have our final laugh in the face of totalitarianism or fascism because even though these despots were responsible for the deaths of millions, we can reduce them to cinematic boors, so inept you wonder how they even get their pants on each day. Fortunately, The Death of Stalin answers that last wonderment, at least as far as Kruschev is concerned.
Oh, how bawdy it is to see one man's girdle strings dangle, another's pajama pants past his suit cuffs, and yet another who is so vodka-drunk he misfires his own spittle into his own hair. These, comrades, are your best jokes left now that the Supreme Leader has left?