Russian novelist, Lev Tolstoy, a nobleman, is conflicted by the ascetic ideals embraced by his followers and the noble notions of his passionate wife, Sofja. He is a 19th Century literary superstar whose philosophy has inspired the adoration of class-weary anarchists, some of whom harbor less than Tolstoyan motives. "The Last Station" is about family loyalty, distribution of wealth, seduction, and the abiding quality of romantic love.
Sumptuous details emerge out of the mist as we travel back 100 years to the pre-revolutionary Russian countryside. Michael Hoffman's canvas includes dense birch forests, and cluttered interiors softly aglow with lantern light. The camera often lingers artfully on faces filled with longing, passion, despair or disgust. Everyone seems to be watching Tolstoy--paparazzi follow him everywhere, and sycophants record his statements religiously. The attention sometimes annoys him, other times amuses him, and it would seem that he feels entitled to this level of celebrity.
Helen Mirren is dazzling as Tolstoy's devoted wife. She is shrewish one moment and coquettish the next, wearing every emotion honestly on her aristocratic sleeve. Playing Lev Tolstoy with an almost bewildered sensibility, Christopher Plummer allows us to see the philosophical divide between his desire to live a Christ-like life, and his reluctance to betray his wife. James McAvoy is impressive as a professional observer who learns the difference between theory and practical reality. Paul Giamatti makes a chilling Judas-like Chertkov, a pivotal power-broker within the Tolstoyan network. As loyal Tolstoy daughter and avid Tolstoyan devotee, Anne-Marie Duff's Sasha is as tortured as any character you might discover in her father's novels.
The film finds a pleasant balance between history and romance while avoiding precious plot devices and artifice. Some might consider it a bit too contemplative, but I appreciate a director who understands the power of well-constructed dialogue, brilliant performers, and an audience willing to savor the tragic but triumphant nature of love.
Sumptuous details emerge out of the mist as we travel back 100 years to the pre-revolutionary Russian countryside. Michael Hoffman's canvas includes dense birch forests, and cluttered interiors softly aglow with lantern light. The camera often lingers artfully on faces filled with longing, passion, despair or disgust. Everyone seems to be watching Tolstoy--paparazzi follow him everywhere, and sycophants record his statements religiously. The attention sometimes annoys him, other times amuses him, and it would seem that he feels entitled to this level of celebrity.
Helen Mirren is dazzling as Tolstoy's devoted wife. She is shrewish one moment and coquettish the next, wearing every emotion honestly on her aristocratic sleeve. Playing Lev Tolstoy with an almost bewildered sensibility, Christopher Plummer allows us to see the philosophical divide between his desire to live a Christ-like life, and his reluctance to betray his wife. James McAvoy is impressive as a professional observer who learns the difference between theory and practical reality. Paul Giamatti makes a chilling Judas-like Chertkov, a pivotal power-broker within the Tolstoyan network. As loyal Tolstoy daughter and avid Tolstoyan devotee, Anne-Marie Duff's Sasha is as tortured as any character you might discover in her father's novels.
The film finds a pleasant balance between history and romance while avoiding precious plot devices and artifice. Some might consider it a bit too contemplative, but I appreciate a director who understands the power of well-constructed dialogue, brilliant performers, and an audience willing to savor the tragic but triumphant nature of love.