Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove (1964) is possibly the greatest film satire ever produced. With a mixture of acid wit and measured wackiness, Kubrick encapsulates the confusion, madness and terror of the Cold War, where global annihilation seemed a push-button away.
Lunatic Air Force General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) orders a nuclear first strike against the Soviet Union. In Washington, General Buck Turgidson (George C. Scott) urges a follow-up strike on the Soviets, while President Muffley (Peter Sellers) looks for other means. The situation grows dire when the Russian Ambassador (Peter Bull) informs Muffley that the Soviets have a "Doomsday Device" which, if triggered by American bombs, will render the Earth uninhabitable. While RAF officer Mandrake (Sellers again) tries to reason with Ripper, a B-52 piloted by Major Kong (Slim Pickens) barrels on towards "nuclear combat, toe-to-toe with the Russkies," oblivious to attempts at recalling it.
Dr. Strangelove does a brilliant job of capturing the Cold War circa 1964. Kubrick and writers Terry Southern and Peter George exaggerate surprisingly little: Ripper's tirades about water fluordiation as a Communist plot echo the John Birch Society's rambling paranoia, while President Muffley is a dead ringer for Kennedy's UN Ambassador (and perennial Presidential candidate) Adlai Stevenson. The Cuban Missile Crisis gave substance to fears that a "mad dog" general like Curtis LeMay or Edwin Walker might start World War III on their own. Things weren't helped by the Soviets, who under Nikita Khrushchev's erratic leadership pushed America to the brink of war. With both sides stockpiling nuclear arms, Mutual Assured Destruction escalated into a mad game of chicken, with neither side daring to back down.
This material could easily have been played straight, but Kubrick finds the inherent humor and ridiculousness with little difficulty. "Topical" dramas dealing with similar issues (Seven Days in May, the almost-identical Fail-Safe) now play as musty period pieces, but Strangelove remains fresh and funny today. The script is laced with pointed barbs ("You can't fight here! This is the War Room!") and overt silliness, and yet none of it seems out of place. If nuclear Armageddon isn't funny, then what is?
Strangelove is Exhibit A for viewers who see Kubrick as a misanthrope. Not one person comes off well here. Ripper is a complete nut, Turgidson barely conceals his glee at the situation, and the B-52 pilots look forward to medals and promotions. Muffley is a pitch-perfect send-up of "do-gooder" liberals, trying too hard to prove he's a pal of the perfidious Soviets ("I'm just as capable of being sad as you!"). None-too-subtle sexual inneundo is crammed into every scene, from character names (Muffley, Turgidson, Strangelove) to sniggering dialogue ("Purity of essence") and visual symbols (the credits footage of planes refuelling), pointing up the psychosis of the Cold War. This collection of nutjobs, neurotics, wimps and morons deserves everything they get.
Kubrick's direction is straight-forward as usual, leaning heavily on dialogue, performances and art direction. Peter Murton creates some impressive sets, especially the cavernous "war room" and the cramped B-52 interior. Only the plane's exterior shots seem phony. The most influential scene is the army raid on Burpelson Air Force base. Filmed in grainy, handheld style, it achieves an effective "documentary" look used and abused by modern filmmakers.
Peter Sellers had already played multiple roles in The Mouse That Roared (1959), but transcends it with three inspired performances. Sellers's Mandrake is a spot-on spoof of Alec Guinness in Bridge on the River Kwai, an excessively British RAF officer with memories of a Japanese POW camp. For my money, the wimpy President Muffley is the funniest Sellers character, delivering grovelly phone calls to the Russian Premier ("Why do you think I'm calling you? Just to say hello?") in perfect deadpan. But, of course, his most iconic turn is as the title character, an ex-Nazi "mad scientist" inspired by Herman Kahn and Edward Teller, nuclear scientists with a coldly impersonal view of human life. Sellers plays each role to perfection, cementing his status as comedy legend.
George C. Scott gives a hysterically over-the-top performance, complete with eye-bugging, gum-chewing, leering inneundo and even a pratfall. He's deliberately comedic here, but Scott's ostensibly serious performance in Patton was barely more restrained. Sterling Hayden (The Godfather) is the perfect personification of right-wing paranoia, ridiculous but chillingly credible. Slim Pickens (Major Dundee) has his most iconic role, riding an H-bomb to oblivion. Peter Bull (The Lavender Hill Mob) and Keenan Wynn (Once Upon a Time in the West) have key supporting roles, and a young James Earl Jones plays one of the bomber crew.
What more needs to be said? Dr. Strangelove has earned its place as one of the all-time great comedies, and Stanley Kubrick's finest work.
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