Of all the films that received major Oscar nominations earlier this month, the most obscure was The Last Station, which had virtually zero pre-release buzz but somehow still nabbed a Best Actress nod for Helen Mirren and shoehorned Christopher Plummer into the Best Supporting Actor race. It all makes more sense, though, once you actually see the movie, which clearly exists for no other reason than to secure Oscar nominations. Adapted from a novel by Jay Parini, it recounts the final months of Leo Tolstoy (Plummer), just prior to World War I, as Russia’s most celebrated author negotiates the demands of his adoring public, who want him to leave future financial returns for his work to the people; his new secretary (McAvoy), who’s eager to learn from a master but has been persuaded to act as a spy by the previous secretary (Paul Giamatti); and, most pressingly, his wife (Mirren), a countess determined not to allow Tolstoy’s utopian ideals to leave her an impoverished and forgotten widow.
The Details
- The Last Station
- James McAvoy, Christopher Plummer, Helen Mirren.
- Directed by Michael Hoffman.
- Rated R. Opens Friday.
- Beyond the Weekly
- The Last Station
- IMDb: The Last Station
- Rotten Tomatoes: The Last Station
Maybe I’m just getting cranky in early middle age, but I don’t seem to have the patience I once did for “prestige” productions like this one, featuring a gaggle of carefully enunciating Brits pretending to be Russians (although Mirren’s birth name is in fact Ilyena Mironov). The Last Station was directed by Michael Hoffman, whose previous credits include such broad comedies as Soapdish and One Fine Day, and he manages to transform the battle for Tolstoy’s legacy into a mildly amusing drawing-room farce, encouraging his immensely talented cast to indulge in stagy histrionics. At the same time, though, it is fun to see these actors really cut loose for a change—Mirren, in particular, seems to be plowing through every big emotion she carefully repressed as Elizabeth II four years ago. If you’re looking for some choice ham, in other words, dig in. But if you harbored any hope of learning anything about Leo Tolstoy, or about the human condition, or (God forbid) about both, be advised that those items never boarded the train.
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