Once in a while, you experience a work of art that is elevated to a higher status purely on the reputation, ability and charm of its players, rather than any inherent brilliance in its creation. Numerous overly-sentimental but ultimately shallow films striving to be revered as ‘epic’ that nonetheless do not flounder completely but attain a certain place in the hearts of viewers due to the evident talent of the acting on show. So it is with The Last Station.

Christopher Plummer takes on, and makes his own, the role of 19th Century thinker Leo Tolstoy, while Helen Mirren thoroughly revels in portraying the ‘great woman behind the great man’, the Countessa Sofya. The stormy relationship between the two is utterly believable, as the characters veer from mutual adoration to dramatic schisms and back again. It is worth seeing The Last Station purely to enjoy such performances from the distinguished acting duo. Herein lies the great draw of the film, its finest attribute.

Yet, it is through another character’s eyes that we are invited to witness this. Devoted member of the ‘Tolstoyan movement’, Valentin (played ably enough by James McAvoy) is sent by Tolstoy’s most loyal lieutenant, Chertskov (played with eccentric skittishness by Paul Giamatti) to act as the great man’s personal secretary. He has another task - to spy on the Countess. This is ostensibly the core conflict at the heart of the film; Chertskov’s Tolstoyans wish for Russia’s greatest writer to give free licence to the rights to his works after his death, which is obstinately opposed by Sofya who, along with the couple’s children, would be the ones to lose out in such an event.

Valentin becomes the confidant of more-or-less every major player in what never quite becomes a ‘battle of wills’ per se but is still a clash of diametrically opposing views on ownership of private property. Tolstoy himself embraces collective spirit, passive resistance, and communistic ideals generally, and his daughter Sasha (Anne-Marie Duff) shares these high-minded values. Sofya, on the other hand, appears as old school aristocracy, enjoying the privileged life and absolutely unwilling to relinquish it. She blames Chertskov and the movement for turning her husband against her.
 

The violent confrontations and tender reconciliations between the main protagonists are compelling and watchable, but McAvoy’s Valentin is too blank and pathetic to maintain much interest and there isn’t really enough depth to justify the film’s length. There is, for example, a perplexingly pointless subplot involving Valentin’s amorous relationship with a lapsed Tolstoyan named Masha (Kerry Condon). This, along with a number of superfluous scenes, could easily have been cut away – but then it wouldn’t be ‘epic’ enough, right?

The Last Station is a fine film for those who love to see experienced, exceptional performers in roles they can get their teeth into – but there is a lot of fluff to endure in order to experience it. This is a movie that could have been so much better, a truly great period piece even. As it is, it’s merely very good.

- Sebastian Clare