In Clint Bentley’s “Train Dreams,” the tumult of the early 20th century collides with one man’s desire to lead a simple life in the American West. Based on Denis Johnson’s novella and nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, Bentley reunited with screenwriter and director Greg Kwedar to co-write this film after their collaboration on “Sing Sing” in 2023. “Train Dreams” follows Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), an American railroad laborer from Bonners Ferry, Idaho, who grows up witnessing the dramatic impacts of mass industrialization and World War I. Nevertheless, he will die unconcerned with the fact that mankind has stepped foot on the moon, having never picked up a telephone because he has no one to call. Chronicling the ebbs and flows of this ordinary man’s life over 80 years, “Train Dreams” is a visually stunning meditation on man’s search for coping with grief and making a mark in an increasingly industrialized world.
The film begins with Robert’s death, at which point the narrator (Will Patton) reveals that by the time of his death, Robert will have traveled almost far enough west to see the ocean and east enough to enter Montana. The narrator stays with the audience the entire film, creating a sense of dramatic irony as viewers begin to know more about Robert’s life — when he and his loved ones will die, that the Great War is not in fact the last — than Robert does.
The film and source text are both exceedingly well-researched, and the anti-Chinese sentiments of the era and the destruction of Indigenous land are both central parts of the story. “One of his earliest memories,” the narrator says, “was that of observing the mass deportation of 100 or more Chinese families from the town.” The narrator continues, “Grainier was baffled by the casualness of the violence.” This line reflects Robert’s character throughout the film: He is a gentle man who gradually realizes that the world can be both beautiful and cruel.
As a logger — someone who fells trees for timber — on the road, Robert leaves his wife Gladys (Felicity Jones) and toddler daughter Kate (Olive Steverding) for months at a time. He is alone for the majority of his days, surrounded by a cast of itinerant men. The film is introspective and contained — a meditation on the fleeting quality of human life compared to the vastness of a forest. Edgerton gives an exceptional performance as a man clinging to his corner of the world in a moment of great change. He portrays grief in a truly subtle way, able to communicate much with small shifts in expression. Toward the end of the film, he asks, “What if you got nothing left to give? What then?” with palpable tenderness.
The supporting cast is spare but wonderful. In the little screen time she has, Jones establishes a full character for Gladys — who far from an archetypal housewife, participates in physical labor alongside her husband. Although there are melancholic moments between her and Robert when Robert must leave again, Jones’ Gladys is uninhibited and joyful in contrast to her husband’s subdued nature. Alfred Hsing plays Fu Sheng, Robert’s old companion killed in an act of anti-Chinese violence, whose image recurs throughout the film as a sequence in Robert’s dreams. Hsing delivers a heart-wrenching moment as his still, imploring face asks Robert over and over again why he didn’t help, why he never does more.
The film explores themes pertinent to both the logging industry and humanity at large, which powerfully come through in character lines and scenes. In one moment, Ark (William H. Macy), an older logger wise to the ways of the world, suggests to Robert that part of what weighs on him may be the fact that the loggers are all complicit in the forest’s destruction. “This world is intricately stitched together, boys,” Ark says. Reflecting on both the loggers’ individual impact and broader consequences of mass industrialization, he continues, “Every thread we pull, we know not how it affects the design of things.”
As she and Robert look at the new growth of a town previously ravaged by wildfire, forest worker Claire Thompson (Kerry Condon) further reflects on this notion of interconnectivity, saying, “It’s all threaded together, so you can’t tell where one thing ends and another begins if you really look at it.” Yet Thompson also voices what is arguably the film’s thesis: You can’t impose a value hierarchy on nature. “In the forest, every last thing’s important,” she says. “The dead tree is as important as a living one. The world needs a hermit in the woods as much as a preacher in the pulpit.”
Beyond the strong performances and resonant themes, the cinematography makes the movie shine. Shot primarily in Washington, Bentley renders the backdrop of babbling brooks and soaring trees in exquisite clarity. Robert’s world is lush and green and vibrant, and Bentley presents that with an almost dreamlike quality — an ode to the astonishing, enduring beauty of nature.
“Train Dreams” may not be the most electrifying movie, but it is one of the most visually beautiful and tender of the year. Excellently directed and performed, the film is a stunning glimpse into an often-overlooked era of American history.
