Train Dreams is a quiet devastation

Rating: ★★★★☆

Written by Denise Breen

If you are looking for a fast-paced thriller, keep scrolling. But if you are ready to have your heart quietly dismantled by one of the most soulful character studies of the year, press play on Train Dreams.

Directed by Clint Bentley and adapted from Denis Johnson’s celebrated novella, this film isn't just a period piece about the American West; it is a profound meditation on grief, endurance, and the strange, haunting beauty of an "ordinary" life.

At the center of the film is Robert Grainier, a logger and railroad labourer in the Pacific Northwest at the turn of the 20th century. On paper, his life is simple—he fells trees, builds bridges, and tries to keep warm. But the film peels back the layers of his stoicism to reveal a devastatingly human story.

The heartbreak in Train Dreams doesn’t scream; it echoes. We watch Grainier build a modest, loving life with his wife Gladys (Felicity Jones) and their young daughter, only to have it snatched away by a tragedy that feels as cruel and indifferent as the nature surrounding them. The film doesn’t linger on the shock of the loss so much as the aftermath—the decades of solitude where Grainier simply continues to exist.

There is something deeply moving about watching a man grapple with the fact that the world keeps turning even when his own world has ended. The script treats his grief with immense dignity, showing us that a life remembered by no one can still be a life of profound depth.

Joel Edgerton gives the performance of his career as Grainier. This is a role with very few lines; everything is communicated through the set of his shoulders and the weary look in his eyes. He captures a specific kind of masculinity—rugged and capable, yet deeply vulnerable—that is rarely seen on screen. You can feel the weight of the years pressing down on him, and yet, there is a gentleness to him that prevents the movie from becoming too bleak.

Felicity Jones, though her screen time is limited, haunts the edges of the film perfectly. Her chemistry with Edgerton grounds the stakes; you understand exactly what he has lost because their brief scenes together are so warm and alive.

Train Dreams is a slow burn, sometimes demanding patience as it drifts through time like a memory. However, its emotional payoff is immense. It is a visual poem about the things we build and the things we lose, leaving you with a bittersweet ache that lasts long after the credits roll.

Train Dreams is streaming on Netflix.