THE LAST STATION
Written & Directed by Michael Hoffman, based on the novel by Jay Parini
Produced by Chris Curling, Jens Meurer & Bonnie Arnold
Released by Sony Pictures Classics
Germany/Russia/UK. 112 min. Rated R
With Helen Mirren, Christopher Plummer, James McAvoy, Paul Giamatti, Anne-Marie Duff & Kerry Condon
 

Who knew that a Russian period piece directed by an American could have the self-restraint to forgo gloomy demeanors, gray winterscapes, and heavy vodka-slurred accents? Michael Hoffman (The Emperor’s Club) opts for this unpatronizing approach in The Last Station, a star-studded account of Leo Tolstoy’s struggle to reconcile his beloved bourgeois wife, Countess Sophia (Helen Mirren), with his ascetic principles, which, in his twilight years, have been virtually apotheosized by a slew of zealous disciples.

The true story, guided along by a few historical bullet points, is told from the point of view of Valentine Bulgakov (James McAvoy), Tolstoy’s infatuated new assistant. He is assigned to this exalted post as much for his clerical skills as to monitor the tempestuous countess for any signs of sabotage to the critical cause of his fellow Tolstoyans (as the followers call themselves). The cause, masterminded by the Vladimir Chertkov (Paul Giamatti), Tolstoy’s most righteous and trusted adherent, is to convince the ailing author to leave the rights to his works to the Russian people rather than to his family.

Idealistic young Valentine restlessly moves between the two sides, wooed by Chertkov’s tirades against Sophia but equally taken in by the countess’s love for her husband and the legitimacy of her claim on his works (she copied six drafts of War and Peace by hand). McAvoy, who’s mastered an anxious, charming quality tinged with a handsome self-confidence, squarely moves this character to the nebbishy end of the spectrum—all nervous sneezes and held breaths. He sternly but clumsily holds on to his prudish principles (abstention being one of them) even while being seduced by a Slavic vixen (Kerry Condon) from the nearby Tolstoyan commune.

With the quality of a feature film and the temperament of a well-produced mini-series, The Last Station is light, witty, and funny throughout. There are few period-piece frills. The atmosphere—though well-researched and faithful to time and place—doesn’t feel steeped in the ethos of Mother Russia, despite ample samovars and peasant shirts. The humor is sharp and relatable, but not distractingly modern. The relationships, however, feel entirely free of cultural and historical cobwebs and translate perfectly off the screen. Mirren, in a grande dame performance, is vivacious as the passionate Sophia, equal parts self-pity and genuine tenderness for her dear Leo. She shines most when her seething hatred for Chertkov breaks through her graceful veneer and the two adversaries square off in battle of caustic remarks. As the author, Christopher Plummer lines Tolstoy’s contemplative nature with a hearty dose of goofiness and approachability. And as always, Giamatti, playing a true-to-form Russian grouch, burrows deep into the character in a comically snarly manner.

This sugar-coated dose of history is, save for some unavoidable melodrama at the tail end, a triumph of good writing, great acting, and a light directorial touch. Despite the minefield of accomplished actors, The Last Station isn’t quite a tour de force, and, after the last giggle trails off, is even rather forgettable. There is no defining emotional experience or sweeping historical insight to hang your hat on, just a nifty story eager to please its audience. Yana Litovsky
December 4, 2009