Why Train Dreams Should Win the Best Picture Oscar
With its meditative pace and sincere exploration of moral questions, Clint Bentley's film Train Dreams—featuring a rudderless man cutting down trees in Idaho's verdant landscapes—carries the aura of a Hollywood classic from a bygone era. This adaptation of Denis Johnson's novella stands as arguably the lowest-profile nominee for the Oscar best picture award, and it might have slipped unnoticed into the vast Netflix library if not for a serendipitous recommendation.
A Film Out of Step with Its Time
A friend's phone call last year highlighted the film's unique appeal. After watching a hyped, star-studded movie that left her despondent about modern cinema's empty provocations, she praised Train Dreams as one of the few enjoyable films of the year, nostalgically remarking, "I believe this was all better in the 1970s!" This sentiment frames the film as an anachronistic gem, all the more valuable for its divergence from contemporary trends.
From the outset, Train Dreams evokes late 20th-century Hollywood classics through its use of a kindly voiced omniscient narrator. The story transports viewers to Bonners Ferry, Idaho, in the early 1900s, following Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), a man drifting without purpose until he falls in love with the free-spirited Gladys (Felicity Jones).
Meditative Pace and Visual Grandeur
In contrast to recent films characterized by fast cuts, frenetic pacing, and intense scores, Train Dreams adopts a meditative rhythm, often compared to the works of Terrence Malick. The gentle score by Bryce Dessner of the National complements Adolpho Veloso's cinematography, which breathtakingly captures Idaho's verdant vistas and majestic trees tumbling into the wilderness as Robert and his fellow loggers, including a terrific William H. Macy as explosives expert Arn, work the land.
Moral Depth in a Modern Context
What further sets Train Dreams apart is its earnest engagement with moral dilemmas, feeling out of sync in an era of widespread villainy. While working on the railroads, Robert witnesses the racist murder of his Chinese friend Fu Sheng, an event that haunts him with guilt. He later questions Arn about whether bad deeds follow us through life, prompting Arn to reflect on karmic justice and the indelible mark of our choices, such as cutting down ancient trees that "upset a man's soul whether you recognise it or not."
This focus on good and evil, as it pertains to the human soul, offers a novel perspective in today's cinematic landscape. The film also delivers an acute character study of Robert, a drifter haunted by failures, who spends his life awaiting a grand revelation that never arrives, only gaining "a faint understanding of his life" as it slips away.
A Perspective from the Trees
One poignant scene encapsulates the film's thematic depth: viewing a conversation from a high vantage point, as if from the perspective of ancient trees, reduces humanity to ants scuttling below, striving to find meaning in their limited time. This visual metaphor underscores the film's exploration of existence, morality, and our place in the natural world.
In summary, Train Dreams combines stellar performances, lush cinematography, and profound storytelling to create a cinematic experience that resonates with the timeless qualities of classic Hollywood, making it a deserving contender for the Oscar best picture award.
