“There were once passages to the old world,” rues the plaintive narration by Will Patton over an early scene in “Train Dreams.” The early twentieth-century milieu of Clint Bentley’s film is now the old world to its viewers, but there’s no need to lament as the unseen storyteller does. The screen here is a portal that presents an opportunity to return to a bygone era in America—and feel it viscerally and visually.
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This adaptation of Denis Johnson’s novella of the same name is a rhapsodic tribute to the working men who built the country. Bentley and co-writer Greg Kwedar effectively translate the prosaic cradle-to-grave overview of a normal man, Joel Edgerton’s day laborer Robert Granier, into cinematic poetry. They find a capacity for rapturous emotion that lies inside the rough-and-tumble existence of those eking out existence and ebullience on the West’s bleeding edge.
Bentley works with many of the same collaborators from his directorial debut “Jockey,” including composer Bryce Dressner, cinematographer Adolpho Veloso, and editor Parker Laramie, who gave that tale of a stoic horse racer an ethereal lift. Those contributions go even further in “Train Dreams,” which is liberated from following more conventional plot points and structures. Unlike the locomotive in its title, the film does not simply chug ceaselessly forward. It glides.
Bentley and Kwedar’s script floats, both across time and within scenes. But this is not just a stylistic affectation of filmmakers who can demonstrate they’ve seen a Terrence Malick film. The heart of “Train Dreams” beats alongside that of its protagonist, adjusting to the rhythms of logging season that dictate his understanding of the days passing. Big bursts of action exist harmoniously alongside moments of quiet contemplation. A scene can linger, or a smash cut on an exhale can quickly illustrate that years have slipped through Robert’s fingers. All feel natural as they invoke the wonder of compressing and distilling the essence of his lifetime into 102 majestic minutes.
Before he’s a message or a theme in the scheme of “Train Dreams,” Robert is a human taking the riches and ravages of the American century in stride. He’s alone; he enjoys the company of a beloved wife, Gladys (Felicity Jones). He’s a logger to his core; he ages into a second career as a freighter. He chats openly with colleagues, especially the loquacious sage Arn (William H. Macy); he sulks in silence. He gains; he loses; he rebuilds.
Robert reshapes the face of the woodland frontier, and in turn, the forces of nature reshape him. Like a cowboy who thinks he can impose his will on the frontier, a figure such as he is primed to believe in his sense of agency. Yet even as time passes by and his analog world gives way to one dominated by new technology, he’s never rendered a passive figure in his destiny. Robert tries to leave a mark on the world, but he’s humbled by the grandiosity of creation.
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He must settle instead for leaving a mark on a single soul: the viewer of “Train Dreams,” someone unbeknownst to the character but who is rendered all the more humane for witnessing his simple story. There’s simply no one better at bestowing this quiet dignity on laconic characters than Joel Edgerton, delivering career-best work. Looking at his weathered face is like visiting the forests where Robert makes his life’s work: steadfast, rugged, yet vulnerable. Edgerton must work within a limited range of expressions given how little the character communicates, and yet this does not stand in the way of his generosity and openness in sharing Robert’s journey with the audience.
His performance keeps pace with “Train Dreams” at large, somehow both elusive and tangible as they drift across the screen. Bentley’s control over the material is such that a sturdy, earthbound tale also possesses a spiritual lift. At the very instant, the film seems to settle into a predictable groove, he presents a new way to see and experience the events. He’s attuned to the gentle grace of America and its people, no matter the scale. A POV shot of a tree trunk falling in the woods proves as breathtaking as Robert surveying his hands as he contemplates the end of his time logging.
A good film captures merely a life. A great film like “Train Dreams” encompasses an entire way of life. Bentley’s modest, moving epic of the common man is a thing of rare beauty. [A-]
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