Consider Joseph Stalin. Few leaders aside from Adolf Hitler inspire such universal hatred, yet outside of Russia he's received little cinematic attention. This may come from the lingering perception, perpetrated by rivals Trotsky and Bukharin, that he was an uncouth dimwit who achieved power through animal cunning. This characterization is unfair: an evil visionary is still a visionary. Stalin catapulted Russia from feudal state to modern superpower, while causing anywhere from 10-20 million deaths.
Undoubtedly so long as the USSR existed, key historical records remained unavailable to Western filmmakers. Yet the Cold War's end hasn't significantly increased the output of Soviet dramas. There's no Bolshevik Downfall dissecting Stalin's leadership, no Schindler's List treatment of the Holdomor. One exception is the Polish film Katyn (2007), depicting a wartime atrocity covered up by Stalin's Western allies. Peter Weir's The Way Back (2010) starts in a Siberian gulag but focuses on its protagonists' escape across Asia.
Alternately, some blame this on Hollywood's supposed affinity for Communism, as if the Hollywood Ten remains on the loose. Inasmuch as even the Politburo disowned Stalin 57 years ago, it's an unconvincing argument. More likely, Stalin films are a hard sell to audiences apathetic towards foreign history and radical politics. It's easy to label Marxism evil, harder to examine how a Communist state actually functions. After all, few Nazi films espouse a message deeper than "genocide is bad."
Aside from Manart Kippen's laughably benevolent Stalin in Mission to Moscow (1943) and the Russo-American The Inner Circle (1991), the most notable Western depictions of Stalin are made-for-television efforts. Neither Red Monarch or Stalin flatters its subject, but their approaches differ drastically.
Red Monarch (1983, Jack Gold)
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| "Why is the sky blue and what are lesbians for?" |
Focusing on Stalin's final years, Red Monarch becomes a portrait in absolute power. Stalin (Colin Blakely) micromanages the USSR down to miniscule details. At one point, he ponders executing Minister Molotov (Nigel Stock) after the Soviet basketball team loses to France! He releases rival Sergo (David Kelly) from a gulag, seemingly just to confide in him horrible secrets. When Sergo refuses to believe Stalin's confession, the dictator threatens to imprison him again! Like a feudal monarch, Stalin treats mass murder as a lark.
Faced with such a capricious leader, only the slimiest survive. Lavrenity Beria (David Suchet) alternates between groveling toady ("Do what you like me with me, I know nothing!"), backstabbing plotter and ceaseless skirt chaser. (Since the real Beria was a serial rapist, this last seems polite.) He grows unnerved when Stalin forces him to play an honest game of billiards. A Soviet general (Ian Hogg) spells out his code of "M for Marx, E for Engels, L for Lenin..." "Where is the 'S' for Stalin?" the dictator demands. Only Stalin's wastrel son (David Threlfall) challenges Stalin's self-image, with little success.
Director Jack Gold and writer Charles Wood excel in surreal gags. Stalin grants an interview to an American journalist (Carroll Baker) while screening propaganda films. His flunkies fumble desperately with film reels to illustrate Stalin's answers; the dictator reaches a fever pitch while My Darling Clementine plays. Later he challenges Mao Zedong (Fred Lee Own) to an arm-wrestling contest! Stalin's inner circle becomes as buffoonish as the English gentry in Wood's Charge of the Light Brigade, inflated appearances belying interior absurdity.
Colin Blakely (A Man for All Seasons) gives a superlative turn. His casting allows Gold to play up Stalin's outsider origins, albeit as an Ulsterman rather than Georgian. Blakely becomes a man relishing his arbitrary power, evincing wicked delight in his actions: he hits the right note of restrained hysteria and focused psychosis. The supporting cast does fine work, with David Suchet and David Kelly especially good, but it's Blakely's show all the way.
Good satire can illuminate truths missed by serious drama. Whether Stalin was a raving madman or a calculating monster, he dangled the fate of millions on a string. Red Monarch's bloody climax registers like a kick in the stomach: suddenly Stalin's buffoonery doesn't seem funny at all. This coda reminds us that while irrational dictators often become punchlines (Idi Amin, the Kims), they remain a national tragedy.
Stalin (1992, Ivan Passer)
Stalin covers the Man of Steel's life from the Revolution through his death. Stalin (Robert Duvall) starts as a minor functionary, trusted by Lenin (Maximilian Schell) but scorned by intellectuals like Leon Trotsky (Daniel Massey) and Nikolai Bukharin (Jerone Krabbe). He's appointed General Secretary of the Politburo, allowing him to accumulate power even before Lenin's death. Stalin bests Trotsky and plunges the USSR into brutal dictatorship, mixing rapid modernization with mass repression. He also suffers strained relations with wife Nadya (Julia Ormond) and son Yakov (Ravil Isyanov).
Stalin remains an impressive production. Shortly after the USSR's dissolution, director Ivan Passer shot key scenes on authentic Russian locations: Stalin's dacha, Lenin's private apartment and the prison. The credits boast an impressive coterie of historical advisers, including biographer Robert Conquest. Passer's direction is assured and occasionally impressive, aided by Vilmos Zsigmond's expressive photography. On these levels, Stalin's hard to fault.
But Stalin still falls victim to the usual biopic hurdles. Despite a three hour length, Passer provides only terse sketches of key historical moments. Stalin's feud with Trotsky, the Five Year Plan and resultant turmoil, even the entire Second World War are treated almost parenthetically. When Stalin slows down to breathe it's compelling: the extended segment on Stalin's Great Purge is power stuff, as are scenes where Stalin humiliates his Politburo colleagues. But these moments are few and far betwen.
Hoping to explain Stalin's monstrous temperament, Passer and writer Paul Monash probe the dictator's personal life: his fractious marriages and background as a Georgian outsider. Arguably, this marks Stalin's weakest point. The domestic squabbling plays out like any "Great Man" biopic, no more enlightening with an Evil Man. These scenes do little to leaven a stiff historical pageant. It's telling how Stalin plays certain scenes almost identically to Red Monarch (say, Beria's reaction to Stalin's imminent death) with far less impact.
Robert Duvall, an extremely gifted actor, faces an unenviable task. Besides bearing little resemblance to Stalin, Duvall brings inevitable baggage: persuading a rival to kill himself to spare his family, he inevitably recalls Tom Hagen. Duvall fares better in later scenes; as Stalin settles into power, Duvall seems more comfortable inhabiting the character, overcoming his heavy makeup and dodgy accent. Still, it's a performance that's competent but unsatisfying.
The large supporting cast reduced to making impressions. Maximilian Schell and Daniel Massey (Mary Queen of Scots) provide vivid impressions but bow out early. Julia Ormond (My Week With Marilyn) brings tragic gravitas to another short-lived character. Roshan Seth (Gandhi) makes Beria memorably cruel, mocking his victims for Stalin's amusement. Frank Finlay, Jim Carter, Miriam Margoyles and Kevin McNally flesh out supporting roles.
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Needless to say, neither Red Monarch or Stalin provides the definitive portrait of the Red Tsar. I admire the former's audacity and respect the latter's intentions, yet both feel inadequate. Here's hoping some filmmaker - American, British, Russian or Martian - soon gets a chance to fill the void.
Note: I will resume my tributes to certain recently-deceased stars soon. Somehow I've felt it easier to ponder genocidal Bolsheviks than the death of my favorite actor over the past two days.
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