Review of The Assassination of Trotsky

Despite this movie's poor reputation I held out some hope it would be good given the subject matter and the talent involved. Fat chance.

Joseph Losey is a maddeningly inconsistent director. One of the British New Wave's leading lights, he directed art house classics The Servant (1963) and The Go-Between (1970), alongside respectable stage adaptations like Galileo (1975). Balanced against them, however, are overblown turkeys like Modesty Blaise (1966) and Boom! (1968) Losey's baroque flourishes prove effective in his small-scale dramas; writ large they're insufferably pompous.

The Assassination of Trotsky (1972) isn't an outright disaster but brims with wasted potential. This international co-production never comes to grips with its fascinating subject, leaving a talented cast high and dry. Add Losey's awkward, self-important direction and you've got a puzzling failure.

Leon Trotsky (Richard Burton) lives in uneasy exile in Mexico City, publishing articles and speeches denouncing Joseph Stalin's Soviet Union. After amateur assassins botch a raid on Trotsky's compound, the Bolsheviks call in Frank Jacson (Alain Delon) for a professional killing. Jacson seduces one of Trotsky's followers (Romy Schneider) and insinuates himself into the great man's inner circle. Jacson wonders if his motives aren't more personal than political.

Historically, The Assassination of Trotsky isn't inaccurate so much as incomplete: notably, it presents Jacson as an enigma when his identity (Ramon Mercader, a Spanish Stalinist) has been known since 1953. For all the intricate reenactments, Trotsky proves maddeningly vague about its subject. The historical context surfaces only in snippets, with passing references to World War II, leftist unrest in Mexico and Trotsky's murdered children. Trotsky's ideology is even shadier: he dictates his memoirs without explaining his disagreements with Stalin or his own vision of Permanent Revolution. Essentially it's a political drama without politics.

Lacking either a personal or political hook, Trotsky falters. Nicholas Mosley's script functions schematically, showing events without probing their background, presenting characters without motivation. Trotsky comes off as a humorless didact with a soft spot for his wife (Valentina Cortese). The interpretation's historically valid but isn't conducive to our caring about him. Jacson's characterization is disastrous: he's a laconic mystery man but also suffering inner conflict, albeit one evidenced only by facial tics. Losey wastes time having Jacson bicker with his girlfriend and debate politics with his GPU contact (Duilio Del Prete).

Trotsky intricately re-stages its historical set pieces in authentic locations. This is effective so far as it goes, though the Mexican locales aren't always distinguishable from Cinecitta sets. But Losey ruins the authenticity with trite artsy flourishes. He repeatedly juxtaposes violence with Diego Rivera murals and shoots several scenes in a washed-out tint. A gory bullfight provides the most obvious symbolism this side of Oliver Stone. Egisto Macchi's strange score, mixing choral wailing with eerie whispers, seems more befitting a Dario Argento slasher flick.

Richard Burton makes a respectable Trotsky. Suitably snide and pompous, Burton matches the script's one-note characterization well. Alain Delon, on the other hand, functions like a bad self-parody: several characters even ask why he's always so quiet! Romy Schneider's just irritating. Valentina Cortese gives a warm performance, providing the film's most sympathetic character. Interesting supporting players - Duilio Del Prete's spymaster, Enrico Maria Salerno's Mexican fanatic, Michael Forest as Trotsky's American bodyguard - are relegated to the margins.

The Assassination of Trotsky has long been considered a monumental bomb. In a perverse way, that's giving it too much credit. Trotsky's not a terrible film, just a mediocre one. 4/10