Train Dreams Is a Staggering Work of Art

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At the start of ‘Train Dreams‘, a voice echoes, ‘Once there were paths to the old world.’ Turning a corner, you’d encounter a profound enigma. As the story unfolds (narrated by Will Patton), scenes of tunnels, forests, boots in a tree trunk seemingly sprouted there, and a colossal spruce falling appear. This film by Clint Bentley, based on Denis Johnson’s celebrated 2012 novella, subtly explores the intricate web of existence. It mirrors the experience of revelation, as the scattered fragments of one man’s life start to coalesce into an indescribable unity.

Joel Edgerton portrays Robert Grainier, a man whose life story becomes increasingly captivating as he matures. Originally an orphan, he settles in a quaint Idaho town around the turn of the century and spends most of his existence working as a choker, sawyer, and logger. His labor contributes to the felling of trees for the war effort in the 1910s and the development of America’s expanding railways and infrastructure. Along this journey, he develops feelings for Gladys Oakley (Felicity Jones), a strong-willed, attractive woman, constructs a cabin, and starts a family. Grainier may not be well-educated or inclined towards romanticism or introspection. Yet, while lying next to Gladys on the banks of the Moyie river, he muses, “I could almost comprehend everything there is.

Among the standout films at this year’s Sundance Film Festival and arguably one of the finest movies of the year, “Train Dreams” has been acquired by Netflix for a substantial sum. This deal could potentially reach a wide audience, but let’s hope that Netflix will make the right decision and provide it with a suitable theatrical release. The film is visually and audibly stunning, although brief in length, it carries an epic feel. Its artistic, poetic imagery calls for a grand screen display. The cinematography captures vast forests that extend to the very edges of the frame, dusty mountains, misty vistas, and at times, barren and lifeless landscapes. Even close-ups of the rugged male characters resemble unexplored territories on their weathered faces. Often, actors portraying laborers come off as if they’re merely dressing up. However, in this film, shot under the dim light of bonfires and dense forest canopies, the actors are both genuine and shrouded in mystery.

In stark contrast to the tranquil imagery of his domestic life that often lingers in his mind, Grainier’s reality is harsh and unforgiving. His logging work frequently separates him, fueling longing for his family and transforming these memories into more ethereal recollections as the story unfolds. The cruelty he encounters serves as a catalyst for these nostalgic dreams. As a young man, we learn, Grainier bore witness to the brutal expulsion of Chinese immigrants; the narrator shares that Grainier found this violence unsettling, yet as he grows older, he is not entirely exempt from such atrocities himself. During his work, when one of his Chinese coworkers is suddenly apprehended, Grainier inquires about the man’s transgressions but does not intervene as the others carry him across a bridge and hurl him off it.

The image of the deceased Chinese man lingers heavily in Grainier’s mind for the remainder of his life, and he contemplates whether their actions are somehow cursed or if bad deeds have lasting consequences. He poses the question, “Is it true that our wrongdoings follow us throughout life?”, a query that seems to embody not only his personal feelings of guilt but also the permanent alteration of the landscape due to their work, a job he plans to leave as soon as possible. To most of these workers, the expansive forests of the Pacific Northwest represent an unending supply of wood and lumber. A seasoned, peculiar expert in explosives (portrayed by a nearly unrecognizable William H. Macy) notes, “The world is intricately connected; every thread we pull, we don’t know its impact on the whole design.” As Grainier becomes more disconnected from the evolving, impersonal aspects of his job, he encounters a dead bear atop a pile of wood – a symbol that our attempts to control and dominate nature ultimately lead to its demise.

Similar to its main character, “Train Dreams” meanders like a humble vessel adrift on a river, an unassuming metaphor that surfaces during a late recollection. While Terrence Malick’s work (especially his portrayal of nature) and films akin to his, such as Andrew Dominik’s “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” come to mind, I was reminded also of titles like Andrei Tarkovsky’s “Andrei Rublev,” Jun Ichikawa’s “Tony Takitani,” and Stanley Kubrick’s “Barry Lyndon.” This film is brimming with events — there are gunfights, unexpected deaths, and even a fiery forest blaze that carries an almost symbolic Soviet magnitude — yet it lacks a traditional narrative thread. Instead, through Edgerton’s understated portrayal of torment, Patton’s narration, Adolpho Veloso’s captivating cinematography, and a poignant score by Bryce Dessner, the film invites us into Grainier’s sorrowful, inarticulate yearning for tranquility and meaning. The movie delves into the essence of transcendence: We only perceive the shape of the world when it’s already too late. Or, as a dying man muses in “Train Dreams,” surveying the encroaching darkness, “It’s beautiful.” When asked what he’s referring to, he simply replies, “Every bit of it.” For the love of all that’s holy, don’t watch this stunning movie on your phone.

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2025-01-31 18:57