The Last Station

Without prior knowledge of Leo Tolstoy, author of the infamously long War and Peace, it’s difficult to imagine any movie fanatic clamouring to see a biopic of his life. But the calibre of the cast – including Helen Mirren in the latest of her ageing femme fatale roles that inspire lust and guilt in equal measure – may be enough to draw in the crowds. Once in cinemas, audiences will be surprised to discover a world of passion, power and politics behind the closed covers of dusty old Russian literature.

Tolstoy is played by a vigorous Christopher Plummer, who portrays the ageing, wealthy and idiosyncratic author in the last months of his life as warmly and compellingly as a favourite uncle. A rich man spearheading a cult that shuns the excesses of modern life (celibacy, vegetarianism and pacifism feature heavily) and the trappings of wealth, Tolstoy himself remains keen to indulge in other areas of earthly pleasures.

Wife Sofya (Mirren) is permanently incensed at the idea that their collective wealth should be handed over to the Russian people after his death, as is the wish of dogmatic Tolstoyan Vladimir Chertkov (an almost unrecognisable Paul Giamatti). Enter wide-eyed acolyte Valentin (McAvoy), Tolstoy’s new assistant, sent to spy on the fraught household by Chertkov.

Director Michael Hoffman encourages us to engage deeply with these characters – the drama is in the dialogue, while the circus-style plot of Tolstoy’s final days is secondary. Given a fine script, Giamatti’s brilliantly nuanced zealot and Mirren’s volatile, angry wife are a joy to watch; their tense relationship constantly bubbling under the film like a pool of gas in search of a spark.

In a sea of talented actors, it’s Mirren who stands out – in her devious manipulation of McAvoy’s naïve Valentin, and her private and public moments with Plummer. Their uninhibited sex appeal and her constant, childlike tantrums at his obsession with spirituality paint a vivid picture of a marriage as brimful of passion as it was of mistrust and anger. It’s a rare actress who can play a devious grasper intent on hoarding money from the masses and still remain likeable.

Hoffman injects as much wit, humour and pace into an essentially dry sequence of events as possible – the constant documenting of every word Tolstoy utters by lackeys is welcome comic relief. And yet even the film’s ironclad performances can’t save The Last Station from a distinct lack of action.

After his death, Tolstoy’s funeral sparked mass mourning from hundreds of peasants. But many of these had no idea who Leo Tolstoy actually was, nor why they should care that he died. So many years and so many other interesting and horrifying mutations of communism later, why should we?

Andrea Hubert

Anticipation:

It’s party time for Tolstoy loving cinephiles. Both of them.

Enjoyment:

Compelling performances sustain three-quarters of the film. After that, it begins to repeat itself.

In Retrospect:

The subject matter is fascinating, but a murder halfway through wouldn’t have gone amiss.