During the Covid-19 lockdown I began playing Red Dead Redemption 2 as a way to take my mind off the claustrophobia of my apartment. Whenever I wasn’t fighting the law after I accidentally ran over someone in Saint Denis, I spent many hours fishing, hunting, and exploring the world of RDR2. In those moments, I felt a quiet and calming catharsis wash over me. For such a violent game, this feeling was a shock to me as few pieces of media have made me feel that way. Last year at TIFF, I had this feeling with Mike Flanagan’s The Life of Chuck, and this year I felt this feeling again with Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams.
We follow the life of Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), a day laborer employed as a logger helping to expand the railways across America. Forced to spend prolonged periods of time away from his wife, Gladys (Felicity Jones), and their young daughter, Grainier struggles to make sense of his place in a rapidly changing world. As his story unfolds, he experiences great love, unspeakable loss and unique bonds on a journey that is both distinct and universal.
The key to Train Dreams success lies in its simplicity. Train Dreams narrative follows “birth-to-death” character study of Robert’s life. We see him in his early years as a lumberjack and railway worker, working to expand America’s railway networks. We see him fall in love and start a family in the remote Idaho wilderness. We witness him try to make sense of the tragedies that unfold not only to friends but to himself and his loved ones. And we watch him reconcile the rapidly changing world around him that is becoming smaller and smaller. Despite spanning an entire lifetime, Train Dreams never loses its intimacy. It feels deeply personal, yet its themes such as grief, change, and resilience resonate on a universal scale.
Train Dreams unfolds like a cinematic odyssey through the turbulence of life. One moment, everything feels effortless, you’re gathered around a campfire with your coworkers, singing into the night, or marrying the love of your life under a golden summer sky. But just as easily, it all falls apart. Tragedy strikes through a logging accident, a raging wildfire, and suddenly you’re left staring into the smoke, asking, “How can God be so cruel?” That’s the rhythm of life: the rise and the fall, the quiet beauty and the unbearable loss. At its core, Train Dreams is a haunting, meditative reflection on the turbulence of life. A portrait of wonder and sorrow seen through the eyes of an ordinary man trying to make sense of it all.
Robert, the ordinary man at the center of Train Dreams, feels extraordinary. He is brought to life by Joel Edgerton in one of the year’s most quietly powerful performances. He doesn’t need grand speeches or emotional outbursts as his eyes do all the talking. In the smallest gestures, in the flicker of a glance, Edgerton captures the full weight of grief, love, and awe. He’s stoic, yes, but his stillness carries an ocean of emotion beneath the surface. The Best Actor race may be crowded this year, but don’t overlook what Edgerton accomplishes here. And it’s not just him but the entire ensemble turns in rich, layered performances, no matter how brief their screen time.
Shot largely on location, its cinematography is breathtaking as it is bathed in the warm, fleeting glow of Pacific Northwest sunset. The score moves with the film’s meditative rhythm, perfectly complementing its modern western tone. Every detail, from the production design to the weathered textures of the costumes, pulls you into Robert’s shifting world. Train Dreams isn’t just seen, it is a felt human experience.
Life-affirming and soul-stirring, Train Dreams feels like a quiet love letter to existence. Toasting to the fleeting beauty, the unbearable loss, and the simple, stubborn grace of carrying on with life. It reminds us that even in the smallest lives, there’s something vast and eternal, something worth holding onto as the world keeps moving on.
My Rating: A
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