Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams is about the life of Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), a man with a wife and daughter, who worked whatever jobs he could to make a living, and who lived long enough to see the world change before his very eyes. Robert and Gladys (Felicity Jones) have built a wonderful home and life together, the only discontentment between them the taxing realities of Robert’s working life. Train Dreams doesn’t spend a lot of time developing Robert and Gladys’ relationship on screen, so it’s to the credit of Edgerton and Jones that these characters feel as authentic as they are.
Edgerton is a fantastic actor who should have gotten his flowers long ago. He’s turned out such varied performances and has incredible range; think about his uber masculinity as Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby or his measured performance as Dr. Richard Harris in Thirteen Lives. Robert is a simple, unremarkable man, yet in Edgerton’s hands the man becomes a mirror for all of us. We see ourselves in him, in his gentle laughs with his daughter, his banter with his wife, the toil that he struggles with but does because he has to. It’s a subtle, moving performance that carries tremendous weight.
The film has great atmosphere, from the warm lighting that inundates their home at night, to the rosy blush of sun that surrounds Robert and Gladys as they enjoy each other’s company. The soundscape moves from light lilting music to naturalistic sounds present in the environment – the visuals and sounds so immersive that we feel like we’re living Robert’s life along with him. There are sudden shifts to darkness within the film, and they happen quickly, abruptly: an Asian man thrown off a bridge for no reason, a man shooting another as recompense for a life taken, the devastating loss of a friend. These moments haunt Robert, who feels that death is pursuing him somehow.
In the brief moments Robert shares with his friend Arn (William H. Macy), the man comments on the beauty of life and how precious relationships are. We meet so many people in the course of our lives, and sometimes we take for granted how fleeting these relationships can be. Train Dreams makes us feel the pathos of this reality, and the inevitable nature of loss we must reckon with every single day. As Robert struggles through his despair and grief, it makes us wonder if there is any worth to living like this. But after devastation comes the rebuilding, new paths to walk, a life that still has to be lived – until the very end.
Is there value to a life simply lived? If I leave nothing behind – no legacy, no descendants, no mark – if I leave the world quietly and without sound, would my life have mattered? The instinct that fuels most of us says no, because we chase materialism, wealth, and aspire to make families of our own so that our absence is felt when we exit this world forever. So when the perfect idea of what life should be eludes us, the loss can feel crushing – for how can life be meaningful if all that surrounds us is grief and suffering? Robert Grainier’s tale shows us otherwise, that there is purpose to the lives we lead even if all we did is love and lost, or even if we did not.
Our life has meaning, and so will our deaths. The recurring images of nature sprouting from spaces of death in the film highlights the lush renewal so intrinsic to life: from death springs life, and life eventually leads to death. It is the merry dance that connects us all.
REVIEW SCORE: 5/5
