Pam says:
Clint Bentley co-writes and directs Train Dreams, one of the most thoughtful and poignant films of the year. Based on Denis Johnson’s novella, the film transports viewers to the early 20th century, where it follows the stoic young logger Robert Grainier, played by Joel Edgerton.
Robert leads a seemingly simple life until he meets Gladys, portrayed by Felicity Jones. Her intelligence and optimism open his eyes to new possibilities. Together, they build a home in Washington’s wooded landscape and welcome a child. Their life appears idyllic, but financial strain and Robert’s long absences during logging season take a toll as Robert misses his daughter’s formative years.
The challenges faced by Robert and Gladys mirror those of ordinary families — working to make ends meet, sacrificing for children and enduring hardship. Bentley’s restrained direction and empathetic storytelling underscore that while the era has changed, the core struggles of life remain constant. The film also touches on a darker historical thread as Robert witnesses the forced removal of Japanese Americans, moments that haunt him and provide unsettling parallels to current global tensions.
Bentley’s deliberate pacing immerses the audience in Robert’s world, while cinematographer Adolpho Veloso captures the beauty and brutality of the Pacific Northwest wilderness. The crisp visuals and tactile soundscape make viewers feel the mist, rain and chill of the environment. As Veloso stated in a recent interview that the landscape is as much a character as any person. That sentiment is fully realized on screen.
Nature’s dual role — both healer and destroyer — lies at the heart of Train Dreams. The film contrasts the loggers’ exploitation of the land with its enduring, restorative power.
William H. Macy delivers a standout supporting performance as Arn, a character who provides both humor and emotional weight. With quiet wisdom and a yearning for connection, Arn adds a layer of humanity to the story. Macy even learned to play the ukulele for the role, performing an original song he composed himself, and yes, there is humor in this as well.
The ensemble cast contributes to the film’s rich emotional texture. Kerry Condon’s portrayal of Claire underscores the brevity of life and the will to move forward, while Jones’s Gladys infuses warmth and grace into the hardships of the time. Together, the cast creates a portrait of perseverance, love and loss that feels timeless.
Though Train Dreams spans less than a decade, it encapsulates the sweep of a lifetime. Through Edgerton’s understated yet affecting performance, Robert’s emotional journey — his quiet joys, moral struggles and profound grief — resonates deeply.
Bentley’s film, while set more than a century ago, speaks directly to contemporary audiences. Its exploration of family, belonging and humanity’s bond with nature affirms that time changes landscapes but not the human heart.
Chuck says:
In adapting Denis Johnson’s novella “Train Dreams,” director Clint Bentley has pulled off a small miracle. This quiet, touching film runs counter to so many accepted notions of what makes up a movie. The plot, such as it is, is rather bare, the incidents that propel it are few and if one were to offer up a summary of it, the result would likely read as if it were a thumbnail sketch rather than a complete telling.
And yet, therein lies part of the film’s power as in taking this approach, Bentley allows us to take part in the experiences of his characters in an uncommonly intimate fashion. We share in their wonder, pride, joy and heartache because there is so little in the way of extraneous plot, sound, and sights that clutter so much today’s cinematic fare. This is a vulnerable movie, one in which the viewer is invited to partake in due to its stripped-down construction, allowing us to forge an uncommon emotional connection to its characters.
Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton) is an early 20th-century nomad, navigating the Pacific Northwest. The logger and railroad worker, axe in hand, moves from one lumber camp to the next, and while he earns a good wage, it’s the things he experiences and the people he meets that prove to be of greater value. As with many men, his wandering days come to an end when a woman catches his eye. Though initially coy, Gladys (Felecity Jones) is well aware of the power she has over Grainier, who willingly marries and settles down with her.
They build a house in the woods, have a daughter and attempt to eke out an existence. This proves difficult and Grainier, taking up his axe once more, leaves them both for long periods of time to return to the work he knows best. Less than ideal, this situation goes on for a couple of years, until a tragedy strikes that upends all of their lives.
It seems trite and lazy to refer to locations as characters in a story, but it’s never been truer than it is here. Bentley and cinematographer Adolpho Veloso capture the forests of the Pacific Northwest in all their grandeur, conveying not simply the beauty and wonder then contain but their danger and peril as well. The director uses the ambient sounds of the setting as well as serene periods of quiet to convey the sense of peace Granier takes from this place, and in turn we feel it too. Veloso’s camera captures these surroundings from a variety of angles, underscoring its vast size in one moment, capturing its intimate, secluded nature in another. A repeated shot of parallel rows of trees soaring in the air, creating the illusion of a cathedral is no accident.
Edgerton and Jones are an appealing pair, he shy and deliberate, she outgoing and eager. The performers complement each other wonderfully, an obvious sense of affection between them, an emotional bond conveyed we can’t help but appreciate and long for ourselves. They are ably supported by William H. Macy as Arn Peeples, a sage demolitions expert who is far more conscious of the damage he’s doing to the environment than his axe-swinging co-workers. With a lesser performer, the character’s pronouncements regarding the interconnectivity that exists between us and nature would have come off as stilted or ridiculous. In Macy’s hands, they are poetry. The always welcome Kerry Condon makes a third-act appearance as Claire Thompson, a woman who’s suffered a profound tragedy yet has found the will to go on. The actress’ deft, assured approach ensures that this character, though appearing briefly on screen, has the emotional impact the story requires.
And yet, everything returns to Edgerton, who strides through the movie in a seeming unassuming manner, conveying a myriad of emotions with a small glance, gesture or inflection. His minimalist approach resonates with the viewer as it is one without affect, a vulnerability coming through his stoic exterior that results in a haunting vicarious experience.
And while I’ve done my best to communicate the power of “Train Dreams,” I know I have fallen short in imparting how unique and powerful it is. It’s a movie you FEEL, one that once seen will likely never be far from your mind. Though Grainier and those that know him would likely describe his life as unremarkable, his experiences are the very stuff that constitute our existence. We recognize and identify with his moments of joy and incidents of good fortune, but it is the quiet heroism he displays in the face of tragedy and adversity that I will draw from. These are extraordinary moments that aren’t easily forgotten, their value immeasurable when despair is at hand.
4 Stars
