I haven’t read a word of Leo Tolstoy’s novels so some may say I was approaching The Last Station at a disadvantage as it focuses on the final days of Tolstoy’s life. Looking even further, I haven’t seen any of writer/director Michael Hoffman’s films prior to watching The Last Station, a film that appears to have gained Oscar attention out of a sheer lack of competition. That is to say this is a good film, but hardly worthy of such lofty acclaim as this is little more than a made-for-TV story acted out by some of the feature film world’s elite.
James McAvoy stars as Valentin, and make no mistake about it, he is the sole lead of this film as he is introduced to the Tolstoy camp as the famous writer has renounced his noble title, his property and even his family in favor of poverty, vegetarianism and even celibacy. Amidst all of this is the Tolstoyan religious following based on Tolstoy’s beliefs and founded by his closest friend, Vladimir Chertkov portrayed here with typical and expected flair by Paul Giamatti.
McAvoy comes within arms reach of his icon as an assistant but soon finds himself used by Chertkov who is concerned Tolstoy’s wife, Sofya (Helen Mirren), will wreck havoc on his plans to put together a new will; one that will leave Tolstoy’s works to the people of Russia and not to his family. There’s obvious tension in the Tolstoy household and entering the fray as a disciple of Tolstoy, it takes a while before McAvoy’s eyes begin to open as to who the man he has worshipped really is and what those around him have done to spoil everything he holds dear.
The Last Station is little more than a coming of age story as we watch McAvoy’s character go from a celibate worshipper of a movement he learns isn’t as pure as he thought it was, to experiencing what it means to be in love and realizing the truth about the world around him. Unfortunately, this “world” is portrayed in something of a “beat you over the head” fashion as we watch Sofya argue with her husband only to occasionally soothe him by clucking like a chicken and even take to grand theatrics to gain attention. Mirren is a much more restrained and calculated actress than we see here, as her character’s actions are more a result of petty disagreement rather than logical disapproval.
Of course, her concerns are logical and Giamatti portrays Chertkov as something of a snake in the grass as he twirls his mustache, constantly making sure he still has Tolstoy in the palm of his hand. Then again, Tolstoy doesn’t care what’s going on around him. Christopher Plummer plays the writer as rather aloof and more like an old soul, rather than a man concerned with the rights to his life’s work. If he recited a Bible verse and handed out Werther’s Originals it wouldn’t come as much of a surprise to me. It’s no wonder his wife is going crazy; the man she had 13 children with suddenly turns celibate and allows his decisions to be made by Chertkov without so much as a question.
The film only truly flourishes when the story stays focused on McAvoy’s interpretation of the world he once thought he knew and the world he is now realizing. Along with that comes Kerry Condon playing Masha, an unconventional disciple of Tolstoy who’s managed to find her own way around the priorities of what it means to be “Tolstoyan.” Condon is a breath of fresh air alongside the wide-eyed McAvoy in a film filled with stale characters that are more cliche and on the nose than they truly need be.
The Last Station is a perfectly fine film. I wouldn’t be upset if I paid to see it, but it doesn’t deliver the punch I was expecting from a late to the party, potential Oscar contender. It never seems to fully realize or appreciate the story it’s telling.
As a side note, The Last Station made me think of another one of this year’s releases, Me and Orson Welles. Both are telling the story of a young man in the presence and under the influence of a major historical figure and in the circumstance of determining where values come into play. Both films focus on the story of the smaller character amidst the historical giant and both run into problems where one outplays the other. In this case McAvoy runs the show while Plummer’s mimicking performance tries its hardest to get in the driver’s seat. With Orson Welles it was Christian McKay’s performance as Welles that stole the show while Zac Efron’s titular “me” was simply part of the picture.
The idea of telling the story of a disciple of an icon is a great one, but you have to be committed to allowing the icon to remain in the background for the film to work entirely. The Last Station isn’t committed to that as it tries to constantly wedge Tolstoy into the picture, which is unfortunate seeing how he isn’t the focus of the story.
