FILM
The Last Station - Love, Copyright and Anarcho-Christianity
/ Amy Meyerson
01.14.10
When most readers hear, “Leo Tolstoy,” their first thoughts are of Anna Karenina and War and Peace—classics they should have read but most likely never did. But Michael Hoffman’s new film, The Last Station, depicts a different Leo Tolstoy, one even the most devoted literati know little to nothing about.
Although Tolstoy spent the better portion of his career writing canonical novels that brought him wealth and veneration, towards the end of his life—emboldened by a newfound faith in Christianity—Tolstoy began writing essays and articles on the ideals he wanted to impart to his fellow Russians. These warnings against social ills and private property culminated in a social movement with Tolstoy as its prophet. The Tolstoyan Movement promoted peaceful resistance, vegetarianism, abstinence from sex, drugs, and profanity, as well as the denial of individual wealth. At its height, The Movement had upwards of 6,000 followers.
If you want to learn more about the Tolstoyan Movement, much less the novelist Leo Tolstoy, you aren’t going to get it from The Last Station. In fact, you won’t even learn as much as you did from reading the above paragraph. While Hoffman’s film, based on Jay Parini’s novel, focuses on the elderly spiritual leader Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer), The Tolstoyan Movement serves as a vehicle for the narrative rather than as the content of the film itself. Instead, the film is primarily concerned with the dramatic confrontation between Tolstoy’s wife, Sofya (Helen Mirren), and his disciple, Vladimir Chertkov (Paul Giamatti).
During Tolstoy’s dying days, the brutal dispute between Sofya and Chertkov over the rights to Tolstoy’s writing grew into an all-out war. Chertkov, a devout Tolstoyan more responsible for the uncompromising manifestation of The Movement than Tolstoy himself, believes that the rights to Tolstoy’s writing should be left to the Russian people. Sofya demands that the rights be left to the family, so as to fortify their children’s future. Trapped amidst their bitter conflict is Valentin Bulgakov (James McAvoy)—a naïve Tolstoyan hired to work as Tolstoy’s secretary—and Tolstoy himself.
Mirren and Plummer capture the tangible and enviable chemistry that allows Sofya and Leo to endure even the most embittered conflicts. Sofya’s frequent rants against the Movement and her desire for the rights to Tolstoy’s cannon primarily appear a desperate attempt to hold onto Tolstoy. Although Plummer’s performance is understated in comparison to Mirren’s hysterical depiction of Sofya, the performances balance each other nicely. The actors create a sense of how, after 48 years, Sofya and Leo’s connection is tumultuous yet enduring.
Mirren’s performance is also adeptly counterbalanced by Paul Giamatti’s depiction of Chertkov. To the degree that Sofya is irrational, Chertkov matches her in his depravity. Having the two characters dominate Tolstoy signifies that the confrontation has less to do with Tolstoy than Chertkov and Sofya’s inability to relinquish their conflicting roles in Tolstoy’s life. Sofya continuously falls into Chertkov’s plots, providing the film a comedic element while entwining the other characters within the ceaseless tug of war between these two outspoken figures.
Although Plummer situates himself nicely between the oversized performances, James McAvoy’s Bulgakov pales in comparison. He’s unconvincing as the meek zealot Chertkov hires to work as Tolstoy’s secretary and to serve as Chertkov’s eyes and ears within the Tolstoy household. Once Bulgakov begins his work, Sofya also asks him to work as her spy, uncomfortably situating him in the middle of the confrontation. But through his observations, Bulgakov formulates his own ideas about the Movement and about love. He begins an affair with Masha (Kerry Condon)—a fellow Tolstoyan who follows none of the Movement’s principles but believes in its freedom—which grows into a love that enables him to empathize with Sofya despite her constant antics. The film’s two romances—one just beginning and one inevitably concluding— parallel each other and create a sense of the irreplaceable need for love throughout life.
Although Tolstoy spent the better portion of his career writing canonical novels that brought him wealth and veneration, towards the end of his life—emboldened by a newfound faith in Christianity—Tolstoy began writing essays and articles on the ideals he wanted to impart to his fellow Russians. These warnings against social ills and private property culminated in a social movement with Tolstoy as its prophet. The Tolstoyan Movement promoted peaceful resistance, vegetarianism, abstinence from sex, drugs, and profanity, as well as the denial of individual wealth. At its height, The Movement had upwards of 6,000 followers.
If you want to learn more about the Tolstoyan Movement, much less the novelist Leo Tolstoy, you aren’t going to get it from The Last Station. In fact, you won’t even learn as much as you did from reading the above paragraph. While Hoffman’s film, based on Jay Parini’s novel, focuses on the elderly spiritual leader Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer), The Tolstoyan Movement serves as a vehicle for the narrative rather than as the content of the film itself. Instead, the film is primarily concerned with the dramatic confrontation between Tolstoy’s wife, Sofya (Helen Mirren), and his disciple, Vladimir Chertkov (Paul Giamatti).
During Tolstoy’s dying days, the brutal dispute between Sofya and Chertkov over the rights to Tolstoy’s writing grew into an all-out war. Chertkov, a devout Tolstoyan more responsible for the uncompromising manifestation of The Movement than Tolstoy himself, believes that the rights to Tolstoy’s writing should be left to the Russian people. Sofya demands that the rights be left to the family, so as to fortify their children’s future. Trapped amidst their bitter conflict is Valentin Bulgakov (James McAvoy)—a naïve Tolstoyan hired to work as Tolstoy’s secretary—and Tolstoy himself.
Mirren and Plummer capture the tangible and enviable chemistry that allows Sofya and Leo to endure even the most embittered conflicts. Sofya’s frequent rants against the Movement and her desire for the rights to Tolstoy’s cannon primarily appear a desperate attempt to hold onto Tolstoy. Although Plummer’s performance is understated in comparison to Mirren’s hysterical depiction of Sofya, the performances balance each other nicely. The actors create a sense of how, after 48 years, Sofya and Leo’s connection is tumultuous yet enduring.
Mirren’s performance is also adeptly counterbalanced by Paul Giamatti’s depiction of Chertkov. To the degree that Sofya is irrational, Chertkov matches her in his depravity. Having the two characters dominate Tolstoy signifies that the confrontation has less to do with Tolstoy than Chertkov and Sofya’s inability to relinquish their conflicting roles in Tolstoy’s life. Sofya continuously falls into Chertkov’s plots, providing the film a comedic element while entwining the other characters within the ceaseless tug of war between these two outspoken figures.
Although Plummer situates himself nicely between the oversized performances, James McAvoy’s Bulgakov pales in comparison. He’s unconvincing as the meek zealot Chertkov hires to work as Tolstoy’s secretary and to serve as Chertkov’s eyes and ears within the Tolstoy household. Once Bulgakov begins his work, Sofya also asks him to work as her spy, uncomfortably situating him in the middle of the confrontation. But through his observations, Bulgakov formulates his own ideas about the Movement and about love. He begins an affair with Masha (Kerry Condon)—a fellow Tolstoyan who follows none of the Movement’s principles but believes in its freedom—which grows into a love that enables him to empathize with Sofya despite her constant antics. The film’s two romances—one just beginning and one inevitably concluding— parallel each other and create a sense of the irreplaceable need for love throughout life.