A visual poem to the spectrum of life, in all its mundanity, horror and delights, Train Dreams carries its passengers on a journey full of spellbinding imagery, engrossingly empathetic direction and a career-best from Edgerton into a station of life-affirming wonder.
A story from my old high school history teacher, Mr Craney, has stuck with me for years. He recounted the tale of an ordinary American worker who lived for nearly a century. When they were born, people were travelling by horse and cart, yet by the time they died, humanity had walked on the Moon. The story poignantly captures how time moves on, and landscapes change, regardless of us. Watching Clint Bentley’s soulful Train Dreams, now streaming on Netflix, I was reminded of Mr Craney’s words. While sharing similar sentiments to his tale, the film is also tender, sage and genuine all at once. It’s an ode to life that’s haunting and beautiful simultaneously.
Based on the 2011 novella by Denis Johnson, Train Dreams recounts the life of a simple Idaho man named Robert Grainer (Joel Edgerton). He is a logger – a man who manually harvests lumber – working in the early 1900s, prominently in the years when America entered World War I. A narrator recalls how Robert entered the world unceremoniously, arriving as an orphan at the Great Northern Railway. He has no idea who his parents were or even what his definitive birthday is, leaving him as a somewhat aimless wanderer.
Direction in his life comes from Gladys Olding (Felicity Jones), an amiable woman with whom Robert is instantly smitten. After building a home together by the Moyie River and eventually having a daughter, Kate, Robert starts logging for railroad construction to keep his new family afloat. This logging work is seasonal, taking Robert away from Gladys and Kate for long stretches, and each bout brings him into contact with people who shape his worldview. But when tragedy strikes, Robert’s aimlessness returns, a feeling that starts to come in waves as work continues and time trundles along like a train on tracks.
Even if this sounds like a minimal premise, which it is, the film instantly hooks you with an idiosyncratic mood to its craft. Despite the aimlessness that Robert often feels throughout his life, the film has an astute love and admiration for life as a whole.
Shot with a 1.50:1 aspect ratio that gives the impression of a tall, slender image – not unlike the trees Robert cuts down for a living – cinematographer Adolpho Veloso portrays the lush greenery of the forests Robert works in with an inherent sense of wonder, their natural resources providing Robert with his livelihood and us with a gateway into the thematic principles of the story. Contrasted with the harsh greys and browns of Robert’s work, and the developing urban structures that begin to amass over the years within the narrative, this celebration of environmentalism is but the first stepping stone into a wider championing of life’s ever-changing nature, as well as a sombre look into how the planet turns just fine with or without us.
In covering such a dense half-century of history in its narrative – the film starts in earnest in 1917 and ends in 1968 – the film articulately explores potent themes of life, the unstoppable nature of time and even the follies of masculinity. Robert works hard to provide for his family, regardless of his wife’s concerns or his own mental health, the consequences being laid bare when tragedy strikes and everything in his life goes through the filter of loss.
When one looks back on their life, they find themselves the sum of their choices – an outcome that’s about as heavy as one can get. Clint Bentley’s direction and script (co-written by Greg Kwedar of Sing Sing) showcase how this doesn’t have to be a daunting process. Tragedy and injustice are inevitable in life – Robert finds himself traumatised by the image of a Chinese immigrant being murdered for no reason on his railway – yet the inescapability of such notions does not mean one should shut themselves off from the beauty that life can offer if we perceive it through the right lens. It’s a sensual championing of life’s joys without sugarcoating the hardships, with the film carrying the same sincerity that made Kwedar’s Sing Sing so captivating.
Bryce Dessner’s score haunts the luscious imagery of the picture with a peculiarly ominous grace. Just as the philosophical questions about the purpose of life or the finality of death hang in the air, the musical score lends weight and depth to the beautiful images and harsh realities on screen. As Robert moves through life, wrestling with grief, guilt, and uncertainty, among other things, the film invites us into its world so we may appreciate life’s fullness even amid all the strife. Train Dreams takes one person’s life – such a mundane thing in isolation – and showcases the extraordinary possibilities that can be found, with or without the brutalities that the world can throw at us. Dessner’s music underscores all of this, proving both nerve-wracking and deeply moving simultaneously.
Topping it all off is a phenomenal central performance from Joel Edgerton. Edgerton is often underestimated as an actor, despite remarkable turns in Warrior, The Underground Railroad and especially The Gift. Train Dreams might be his finest work as he navigates the multiple stages of Robert’s life with a blistering stoicism, something that’s his character’s greatest strength and flaw. In Robert, Edgerton creates a resilient man who keeps moving forward in the face of life’s challenges, yet needs to learn to stop so that he may at last appreciate what he once had, what he currently possesses, and what he still has to look forward to. Felicity Jones, William H. Macy and a brief appearance by Kerry Condon all stand out as strong performances – all add to the themes of life’s beauty and mercilessness – yet Edgerton is in a league of his own.
Some may be put off by the film’s languid pace and minimalist storytelling, and not unreasonably. Yet this critic found himself enraptured by the all-consuming mood and ambition of this gorgeously eerie gem. A visual poem to the spectrum of life, in all its mundanity, horror and delights, Train Dreams carries its passengers on a journey full of spellbinding imagery, engrossingly empathetic direction and a career-best from Edgerton into a station of life-affirming wonder. Just as Mr Craney tried to teach me and others years ago, one person’s life can be remarkable, both in isolation and in the context of the developing world around them. Movies as honest and atmospherically absorbing as Train Dreams showcase the wisdom of his words.
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