Yesterday I went to an enjoyable if rather fluffy talk on Stalinist biopics of famous composers (man sits at piano and suddenly! orchestral music runs through his head! Then the landlady comes in. or: aristocrat hears songs of peasants, realises their beauty and writes orchestral pieces based on them, etc): opulent costume dramas, emblematic of the sheer bourgeois drabness that the USSR had come to eulogise by the '50s, desperately trying to prove that they could do the old culture just as well as the West, the days of conductorless orchestras, industrial symphonies and Lenin's theremin lessons long behind them.
Much truer, perhaps, to the avant-garde promise of early Soviet iskusstvo was actually in the cinema building itself: an elegantly standard Gordon Square terrace which suddenly, on entering one of the doorways, becomes a wildly angular Deconstructivist space by Surface Architects. I often find this sort of garish, expressionistic stuff a little jejune, but in the right disruptive context, as opposed to in a place where one expects strangeness or architectural excess (art galleries, banks and so forth) it works beautifully.