Film Journal March 2018

action does occasionally venture outside of
Wakanda, writer-director Ryan Coogler for the
most part keeps things centered on Wakandan
world-building and the new characters he’s
tasked with introducing: stern Okoye (Danai
Gurira), T’Challa’s lead bodyguard; tech-savvy
Shuri (Letitia Wright, a standout), who needles
T’Challa as only a little sister can; and local
leaders W’Kabi (Daniel Kaluuya) and M’Baku
(Winston Duke) among them. A few references
aside, Coogler keeps intrusions from the rest of
the MCU at a minimum. The result is a movie
that feels like a movie, as opposed to—as the
lesser entries in the MCU sometimes are—a
mere puzzle piece in ongoing #franchise #brand
#synergy.
Not to harsh on the MCU too much—the
odd misstep aside, franchise ringmaster Kevin
Feige has cracked the code for reliably turning
out solid, entertaining blockbusters—but
Black Panther shows up its predecessors
by effortlessly clearing hurdles that others
have stumbled over. To start with: Despite
a run-time of 132 minutes, Black Panther
doesn’t leave you with a nagging sense of this
could’ve been 20 minutes shorter. Or: The love
interest—spy Nakia, played by Oscar-winner
Lupita Nyong’o—actually feels like a fully
fleshed-out character; to even refer to her as
the “love interst” feels specious.
Or, take this example: The MCU has
made a habit of enlisting talented actors to do
nothing much of anything in supporting roles.
(Remember Michael Stuhlbarg and Rachel
McAdams in Doctor Strange? Bobby Cannavale in
Ant-Man? Julie Delpy in Avengers: Age of Ultron?)
The cast list Coogler’s working with is large,
but everyone gets their moment. The film feels
more like an ensemble piece than Black Panther,
And Then a Whole Bunch of Other People. That’s
because Coogler’s script, though certainly
boasting as much action as you’d expect a
superhero movie to (a car chase through the
streets of Busan stands up quite well), focuses
on relationships more than spectacle. By the
time the requisite climactic battle scene hits,
you’ve become invested enough in the characters
that it works, even if the action falls a bit
on the generic side.
Black Panther succeeds at being emotionally
resonant in a way a lot of Marvel movies—a
lot of blockbusters, period—don’t. With Creed
and Fruitvale Station, Coogler has proven adept
at tugging at moviegoers’ heartstrings, and
he doesn’t let up just because he’s in a bigger
playground. Not to do go deep into spoilery
territory, but Michael B. Jordan’s villain—Erik
Killmonger, wannabe usuper to T’Challa’s
throne—is the most complex, most intelligently
written, most relatable, just plain best villain the
MCU has ever had. (Yes, that includes Loki.)
Shot through his storyline, and those of the
other characters, are issues of race, responsibility
and political activism. There’s nothing wrong
with a superhero movie being just entertaining,
but Black Panther is entertaining and smart
in a way that earmarks it as the product of
Coogler’s distinct vision. —Rebecca Pahle
THE DEATH OF STALIN
IFC FILMS/Color/1.85/107 Mins./Rated R
Cast: Steve Buscemi, Simon Russell Beale, Jeffrey Tambor,
Michael Palin, Jason Isaacs, Andrea Riseborough,
Rupert Friend, Olga Kurylenko, Paddy Considine, Paul
Whitehouse, Adrian McLoughlin, Dermot Crowley, Paul
Chahidi, Diana Quick, Karl Johnson, Jonathan Aris.
Directed by Armando Iannucci.
Screenplay: Armando Iannucci, David Schneider, Ian
Martin, Fabien Nury, based on the graphic novels by
Nury, Thierry Robin.
Additional material: Peter Fellows.
Produced by Yann Zenou, Laurent Zeitoun, Nicolas Duval
Adassovsky, Kevin Loader.
Executive producer: Jean-Christophe Colson.
Co-producers: André Logie, Gaetan David.
Director of photography: Zac Nicholson.
Production designer: Cristina Casali.
Editor: Peter Lambert.
Music: Christopher Willis.
Costume designer: Suzie Harman.
A Quad and Main Journey production, in co-production
with Gaumont, France 3 Cinema, La Compagnie
Cinematographique, Panache Prods., AFPI.
“Veep” creator Armando Iannucci makes
dark, delicious comedy out of the chaos and
calculation surrounding the demise of Russian
dictator Joseph Stalin.
Not since Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be
has there been a movie satire as audacious as
Armando Iannucci’s The Death of Stalin. You’ll
recall that Lubitsch’s bold 1942 masterpiece
found hilarity amidst the travails of a Polish
acting troupe during the Nazi occupation of
their country. The Death of Stalin, set in the
1953 Soviet Union, isn’t topically nervy like
that, but it has the same brazen mix of comedy
and terror—the comedy coming out of
the absurdity of the totalitarian mindset.
Iannucci first gained notice as the creator
of the British comedy series “The Thick of It,”
about political spin doctors, which spun off
to the witty feature film In The Loop. Then he
created “Veep,” the acclaimed, Emmy-winning
HBO comedy series about Washington
politics. For his second feature, he’s imagined
the savage political infighting that ensued
with the demise of longtime dictator Joseph
Stalin—and savage is truly the apt description.
Iannucci doesn’t soft-pedal the extreme, arbitrary
cruelty of the era, which may lead some
to wonder what scenes of sudden execution
are doing in an ostensible comedy. It’s a valid
argument, but those moments accentuate the
insanity of the climate in which its vain central
characters plot to undermine one another.
The tone is set in the opening scene,
inspired by real events: a radio broadcast of a
classical-music concert. The radio producer
(Paddy Considine) receives a phone call from
Stalin himself demanding delivery of a recording
of the concert: Trouble is, the concert
wasn’t recorded, and the producer must hastily
reassemble the orchestra and the audience
for an encore performance, and replace the
conductor who has just been knocked unconscious
from a silly accident. When Stalin issues
an order, everyone quakes.
That also applies to the high officials
surrounding him, who are often subjected to
mandatory late-night viewings of American
westerns. When Stalin suffers a debilitating
stroke, he’s found the next morning lying
in a puddle of his urine because no one had
the nerve to enter his office. The dictator
eventually dies, partly because all the reputable
physicians in Moscow have been either
imprisoned or executed. Then the jockeying
for power begins, most notably by Beria,
the calculating and acid-tongued head of the
security forces, played with wicked wit by the
great British stage actor Simon Russell Beale.
Iannucci has playfully assembled an
ensemble of British and American actors
speaking in their native accents; the casting
of Steve Buscemi as Nikita Khrushchev may
seem incongruous at first, but his comically
calibrated exasperation and fury pay big
dividends. The irresistible cast also includes
Jeffrey Tambor as befuddled, self-absorbed
deputy general secretary Malenkov; “Monty
Python” alum Michael Palin as dithering
foreign secretary Molotov; a hilarious Jason
Isaacs as uber-macho Field Marshal Zhukov; a
manic Rupert Friend as Stalin’s paranoid, idiot
son Vasily, and Andrea Riseborough as Stalin’s
assertive but naïve daughter Svetlana.
Adapted from the graphic novels by Fabien
Nury and Thierry Robin, the screenplay by
Iannucci, David Schneider and Ian Martin is filled
with droll one-liners, vicious asides and zany
pieces of business befitting a political environment
gone mad. Iannucci’s trademark creative
profanity never seemed more appropriate.
Laced with fear and dread throughout, this
comedy of scheming vipers goes extremely
dark toward the end. And ultimately, its bleak
but bracing portrait of naked self-interest masquerading
as governance seems oddly timely,
despite the historical context. —Kevin Lally
THE PARTY
ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS/B&W/2.35/71 Mins./
Rated R
Cast: Timothy Spall, Kristin Scott Thomas, Patricia
Clarkson, Bruno Ganz, Cherry Jones, Emily Mortimer,
Cillian Murphy.
Written and directed by Sally Potter.
Produced by Kurban Kassam, Christopher Sheppard.
Executive producers: John Giwa-Amu, Robert Halmi, Jr.,
Jim Reeve.
Director of photography: Aleksei Rodionov.
Production designer: Carlos Conti.
Editors: Emilie Orsini, Anders Refn.
Costume designer: Jane Petrie.
A Roadside Attractions presentation of an Adventure Pictures
production, in association with Oxwich Media.
British art-house legend Sally Potter turns
to black comedy, with a dryly wicked take
on upper-class privilege and middle-aged
adultery.
Sally Potter’s The Party is like an invitation to
a classic Woody Allen comedy. Not the early
funny ones, though. The later, dark ones.
It’s shot in black-and-white and scored to
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