There is a moment in Train Dreams, directed by Clint Bentley, where a tree gracefully falls to the earth, surrounded by lush green. Particles explode from the impact, the sunlight illuminating these small, insignificant specs. As the frame holds for an extra few seconds, these particles gleam as beautiful as anything else in the image. It’s a powerful exclamation that underlines the larger theme of the film: there are wonders both big and small. Tragedy, too, and who will remember any of it? And, perhaps more importantly, does it matter if anybody does?
Written by Bentley and Greg Kwedar, based on the novella by Denis Johnson, Train Dreams tells the story of Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), a logger living and working in the Pacific Northwest during the early part of the twentieth century. He is husband to Gladys (Felicity Jones) and father to their little baby Katie. They live in a simple log cabin away from town. He’s gone for long stretches on this job or that job. Will Patton narrates the film and is, without question, the highlight of the entire cast. His mournful, exhausted accounting of this lovely, sad singular lifetime is wrapped in both regret and wonder. For anybody who would criticize narration as a “crutch,” I’d point you to what Patton is doing here and ask you to reconsider. It’s unparalleled.
Much of the same can be said for Bryce Dessner’s score, a majestic piece of work that does a lot of emotional lifting (complimentary). Edgerton is the film’s anchor, reliable and sturdy as ever. His face is a timeless one––he could have lived and loved in any century, which goes a long way. For much of Train Dreams, cinematographer Adolpho Veloso stays close to Edgerton’s face as Robert tries to make sense of what’s happened to him and what may come next. A simple look downward does more than entire flashback sequences (of which there are too many).
William H. Macy is a pleasant presence in a plump supporting turn (he offers up a mid-movie monologue about the age of trees that might be the strongest scene of the whole picture) while Paul Schneider appears for an incredibly entertaining one-scene cameo. The same can be said for Kerry Condon, who delivers a line I’m still thinking about: “The world’s an old place. Probably nothing it hasn’t seen by now.”
Train Dreams is a quiet, resilient work that will most likely age gracefully. At just 95 minutes before credits, it sports a tidy runtime. Even still, it wanes in the back half and never fully satisfies the promise of the first half. Despite this, it’s a satisfying adaptation as Bentley succeeds in his examination of the measure of a life. One recalls that beautiful line from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: “I was thinking how nothing lasts, and what a shame that is.”
Train Dreams premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and will be released by Netflix.