One of the websites I frequent is currently holding a poll to find the “Worst Film Ever”. I added my tuppence worth to the debate and then realised that, with a bit of cynical recycling, I could rehash my post there as a review here . So here it is. Apropos of abso-bloody-lutely nothing, save the fact I’ve not actually written anything for a while, just been re-posting my scroodls:
If you measure awfulness in sheer tedium, as opposed to irritation, then you couldn’t do much worse than “ The Last Station”:
Christopher Plummer [as Leon Tolstoy] spends almost the entire film, lying in bed, waiting to die… with a beard.
Full-on beard thrills.
Occasionally his slumbers are interrupted by the arrival of one of either of two visitors; his wife [Helen Mirren], who berates him for toying with the notion of leaving his money to The Siberian Beard Research Collective, instead of her; or a young representative of The Siberian Beard Research Collective, who likewise berates Tolstoy for potential betrayal of beard-dom, should he leave the cash to the missus.
The film continues in this vein for what seems like several days, with Tolstoy contemplating the ceiling and [presumably praying for death] while Mirren and whoever the hell the other bloke is, rotate in and out of his room on a carousel, repeating their demands that they cop for the eventual loot.
There may have been some flashbacks, featuring Tolstoy looking out from behind the different lengthed beards of his youth, but I’m not sure as, by this stage, I was watching my own whiskers grow, as a more action-packed alternative.