Words by JANE CROWTHER
Clint Bentley co-wrote Sing Sing and his adaptation (with Greg Kwedar) of Denis Johnson’s 2011 novella is just as heartfelt, gem-like and profound – the seemingly specific experiences of American men rendered universal in their poetic handling. Taking Johnson’s slim but gorgeous prose and building out to a treatise on grief, memory, time, the unstoppable march of progress and mankind’s mark on the world, Train Dreams is a haunting, spellbinding experience that recalls the dreaminess of Malick and asks the audience to leave the theatre newly appreciating the beauty of the small things in life.
Opening in the Pacific Northwest in the early 20th century with a sonorous voiceover narrated by Will Patton (like a meditation in itself), we meet lumberjack Robert Grainer (Joel Edgerton), a quiet man who goes where the work is. That takes him through cathedral groves of ancient forests, felling trees and building bridges to accommodate the railroad that will change the continent. It’s a hard life – poorly paid, hard graft and laced with death and racism – but one that blooms with the arrival of Gladys (Felicity Jones, luminous) into his life. A vibrant, capable woman who sees the interior story of this stoic man, Gladys provides happiness and a joyous filter on the world so that Robert can see its wonder. As the couple build an idyllic cabin together and welcome a baby, Robert has an anchoring home to return to from his nomadic labouring.
When he’s away he pines for his family and begins to appreciate people and places anew; Arn (William H Macy) the explosives expert who acknowledges the majesty of the trees the men work among, a religious chatterbox (Paul Schneider) whose background isn’t as virtuous as his bible quotes, the nameless men crushed like ants beneath falling logs, their boots left nailed to trunks as proof of their existence. And it’s this opening of his heart that fells him when tragedy occurs, forcing him to take solace in nature, the compassion of a Native American man (Nathaniel Arcand), the companionship of dogs and the resilient outlook of a forestry fire warden (Kerry Condon) who has returned from nursing duties in WW1. As technology advances, as man lands on the moon and as his particular way of life disappears, Robert moves through life nursing pain as evidence of love, of life.
Breathtakingly lensed by Adolpho Veloso using natural light, Robert’s seemingly unremarkable life becomes extraordinary – a man forgotten in the footnotes of history turned heroic figure. Damp forests shiver in the breeze, sunsets glow over babbling brooks, a humble chicken supper glows in candlelight, a train tunnel frames a tableaux that could be out of a painting… tracking Robert through his world. His capacity to yearn is clear in the cabin he builds and which is eventually subsumed back into the forest, the biplane he whimsically takes as an older man exhibits an ability to continue to grow, observe, persevere, like the trees around him. Though Robert doesn’t say much, Edgerton imbues him with such rich inner life that his homespun experiences feel complex, divine, intense. And though very much set in a specific, vanished time, they feel resonant. Covering themes of racism, immigration, deforestation, environmentalism, Train Dreams feels both intimate and global – a film like its lead character; deceptively simple but teeming with life, ideas and, ultimately, hope. By the time Nick Cave is singing plaintively on the end credits audiences will want to hug their loved ones (and a tree) a little closer.
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Pictures courtesy of NETFLIX
Train Dreams is in cinemas now and on Netflix from 21 November
