Dr. Strangelove, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964), directed by Stanley Kubrick

I never imagined the day that Dr. Strangelove would become a dated movie. Perhaps it isn't completely dated: there could still be a limited nuclear war or terrorist attack with atomic weapons. But that oppresive fear that marked the childhood of my and earlier generations: that we could all be wiped out within minutes, no longer plagues us (it has, of course, been replaced by other nasty fears).

Still, Dr. Strangelove holds the title as the greatest comedy ever made about nuclear annihilation. Unlike solemn films like The Day After, Fail-Safe, or On the Beach, all of which were accused of being agitprop, Dr. Strangelove lampoons the military minds and government leaders who actually considered nuclear war a feasible option. To simply scream out "How can we leave so much killing power in the hands of so few men" would be either simply monotonous or mark one as a commie sympathizer. To film a Strangelove-like plot as a drama, like the original novel Red Alert by Peter George, would lend dignity to figures Kubrick considered worthy only of scorn. As a comedy, Kubrick could safely make his point while slaying every sacred cow of cold-war politics.

The film is the story of General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden), an Air Force officer who uses a nuclear loophole to order an attack on the Soviet Union. Not because of communist ideology, but because of the "conspiracy to sap and impurify our precious bodily fluids." The plot continually becomes more and more bizarre: it is inevitable that the world will end, the only question is how? And how will the military-industrial minds be able to weasel themselves out of it?

Although the subject matter is deadly serious, Kubrick approaches it in the silliest possible fashion. The names are all verbal gags: Premier Kissof, Col. Bat Guano, Maj. Kong. The phone calls on the Kremlin hotline are structured as Bob Newhart-style comedy routines. The film takes every traditional film stereotype of government leaders (stalwart, brave) and subverts it, turning the leaders of both east and west into a grotesque parade of idiots. As history has shown us, Kubrick's vivid imagination is alarmingly true to life.

Such an approach might fail, given the wrong cast. Imagine if the entire lineup played the script for laughs. Luckily, the cast of experienced thespians plays the material straight. Peter Sellers, in two of his roles, shows particular restraint, and as a result, loses himself in a pair of very funny characters. As the title character, his third role, Sellers hams it up: forgivable, since as written, his character is the most outrageous in the film.

Let it be said, in any case, that this film is so dangerously funny, it is easy to forget the satire and enjoy the comedy for its own sake. Just about every scene with Slim Pickens reduces me to a state of helplessness, as does Keenan Wynn's singularly strange appearance. I cannot, in fact, find any weak points in the whole film.

Did Dr. Strangelove every have a real impact on world politics? Perhaps it inspired some people to distrust their leaders or take part in anti-nuclear protests. Perhaps this pressure may have eventually led to the ultimately successful disarmament talks of the '80s and '90s. However, who cares? It is not a political statement, but a film comedy: a Laurel and Hardy for the nuclear age. For making a film that endures as a great comedy, Stanley Kubrick deserves recognition. For virtually creating the genre of the "black comedy," he earns himself a place in the pantheon of film.

Four stars

Copyright 1997 by Dale G. Abersold 1