This slow train threatens to run out steam before it gets to The Last Station

A lot of us have had a relationship with an ego on legs. Some of us may have been unlucky enough to live with this suffocating presence. Of course, these things are largely unfounded. But imagine living with someone who deserves the hype, whose egocentricity is, to some extent, very well-founded indeed.

The Last Station presents exhibit A: Leo Tolstoy. Exhibit B is his long-suffering wife (played with a graceful but deadly fire and ice by Helen Mirren). The two are deeply in love and have been for years. But it doesn't mean that Leo's wife always enjoys living with genius. This is especially the case when a young interloper enters their midst; Bulgakov (James McAvoy) represents the state. They are keen to follow up on one of Tolstoy's more outlandish statements, in which he promised his wealth and land to the Russian people.

Although Tolstoy is spending his old age living in a large house surrounded by people who are - to all intents and purposes - serving him, he's doesn't believe in private property or wealth. His aims are pure - celibacy, vegentarianism, and the people surrounding him will continue to live on the land after he dies. If that didn't put a strain on the relationship with his wife, then Bulgakov certainly would.

When the film sticks to this plot, it's moving and intelligent. Unfortunately, it often indulges a parallel contrasting narrative involving McAvoy's sexual awakening. It does mean we get to see his bum, but otherwise the scenes are largely unnecessary and schmaltzy. Fleshed (ahem) out they could have been a nice commentary on the main plot. But this dishy side dish is simply too sweet.

If you can get past this, then it's easy to be taken in by The Last Station's gentle bubbling. Although the movie is a less inspiring affair when Mirren isn't on screen and the film's scales tip over to cloying sentimentality, it'll inspire a good discussion. It reminds us that behind most great men, there's a partner running around and picking up the pieces. And, without them, how great would these men actually be?