For as long as we have been sentient, we have been pursuing the goal of trying to condense entire lives into single streams of thoughts – we all have a date in which we enter this world, and a date in which we exit, and everything in between becomes our legacy. For some people, they leave behind vast empires that resound throughout the halls of history, making an indelible impression on future generations. However, the ones that are often more intriguing are those who are almost immediately forgotten, the lonely and isolated people who lived relatively simple, unremarkable lives and whose deaths forced them even further into obscurity. Despite seemingly not doing anything noteworthy (or else they would be remembered), their lives were not any less fascinating, and we often find that these tend to be the most compelling of stories. This was something that Denis Johnson found informing the creation of Train Dreams, his achingly beautiful novella which has now been translated to the screen by Clint Bentley, who adapts the material in collaboration with his creative partner Greg Kwedar (with whom he also developed films such as Jockey and Sing Sing), and in the process crafts one of the most endearing, compelling works of the year. The film takes place over roughly eighty years, spanning the latter half of the 19th century right until the threshold of the 1970s, and follows the life and times of Robert Grainier, who lived almost his entire life in rural Idaho, making a living as a labourer, working as a logger and carriage driver as a means to earn his keep, leading a simple but fulfilling life. We accompany Robert as silent observers of his daily life, peering into his everyday activities as he navigates harsh working conditions, personal tragedies and quiet triumphs, and leads a life that is somehow both ordinary and extraordinary, the boundary between them being far more narrow than anyone would imagine possible. A film that quietly establishes itself as an essential text of American culture, crafted by a director whose attention to detail and profound sensitivity makes him a strong candidate to bring this story to life, Train Dreams is a wonderful, poignant film that both celebrate and critiques the concept of the American Dream, finding new ways to explore the country and its past through the people involved in its construction, both literally and metaphorically.

Looking at the previous work Bentley and Kwedar have done in recent years, it is clear that they are focused on capturing the stories of the “labouring invisible”, the people who are vital to society, but whose stories are very rarely told, since we tend to gravitate towards grand tales of bravery and splendour, rather than those that revolve around ordinary people trying to make a living, or existing in circumstances that don’t immediately demand our attention. There is a concept popularly known as “sonder”, which is the striking realisation that every person we encounter in our daily lives, even for just a fleeting moment, leads their own vivid, complex life, the details of which we are unlikely to ever know. This feeling is beautifully replicated in Train Dreams, which is a simple story of an ordinary man living his life, achieving nothing but the bare minimum he needed to survive, but yet still being a vital part of the construction of America, his anonymity being a stark contrast to the incredible impact he and his fellow labourers and journeymen made on the country in its formative years. Johnson is not fixated on dispelling the concept of the American Dream so much as he is dedicated to examining the roots of the idea and how it manifested in various ways, depending on perspective. In only 100 minutes, Bentley manages to compress nearly eighty years of life into a single narrative, taking Johnson’s pensive and moving novella and bringing it to the screen in a way that underlines the most important elements, and allows the more vague ones to develop organically, with the viewer being an active participant in forming an understanding of Robert as both the protagonist of this particular story, and as someone who represents generations of men and women who worked laboriously to contribute to their country, but whose names have almost been entirely erased from memory, their legacy being names on a gravestone (if they are lucky enough to receive that – one of the most striking images in this film is that of boots nailed to a tree at the site where some loggers are buried, their entire lives condensed into simply an article of clothing), but yet are still vital parts of American history. It’s a challenging subject, and one that does lend itself to some more intense emotions from time to time, but Bentley and Kwedar ensure that their screenplay focuses on the nuances rather than the more obvious elements that would prevent this film from truly achieving something special.

The narrative and emotional anchor of Train Dreams is found in the same place, namely, in the performance delivered by Joel Edgerton, who is doing career-best work in this film. The role of Robert Grainier is a challenging one, since it requires an actor who not only could feasibly be playing someone plucked from the Pacific Northwest at the turn of the 20th century (in the sense that he looks and sounds like this specific kind of salt-of-the-earth labourer), but also captures the underlying melancholy that accompanies this film. After more than a decade of excellent work, it should not be a surprise that Edgerton commits wholeheartedly to the assignment, working closely with the director to create what is essentially a stark portrait of a lonely man whose greatest aspiration is simply to exist, his pride being derived from his ability to put in a hard day’s work and enjoy the knowledge that he’s made a difference. It calls for restrained, subtle work from its star, and Edgerton is more than happy to oblige, especially considering he has often made it clear that he has an affinity for playing these complex, layered individuals whose nuances gradually compound into forming varied portraits of people whose stories are not often told. It’s an internal, quiet performance that draws on a kind of unique stoicism that not many actors can tap into, especially since the task of playing such a profoundly lonely man would be intimidating to even the most experienced of actors. Edgerton is surrounded by a supporting cast that may not have particularly large roles, but are nonetheless essential to the identity of the film as a whole – Felicity Jones and Kerry Condon bring a sensitivity to the story, adding layers of nuance to a narrative built around exploring masculinity and how it is rendered, while William H. Macy steals every scene he is in as the eccentric explosives expert who begins as the comedic relief, but reveals himself to be one of the most insightful and sage characters in the film. Will Patton is the narrator, and while it may be an acquired taste (especially for those who are used to more gentle, soft-spoken narrators), he brings a unique flavour to the film that shapes the narrative and helps push it along in fascinating and provocative new ways.

Train Dreams is a film that exists at the perfect intersection between a film that plays to the mind and one that plays to the heart, which is not a combination that is particularly easy to accomplish, especially for something this simple. Bentley has spoken about his influences, and has highlighted Terrence Malick as one of the inspirations for his direction of this film, which is clear in nearly every frame – the cinematography (masterfully crafted by director of photography Adolpho Veloso, who seems primed to become one of the great artists in his field if this film is anything to go by) is some of the best of the year, with each composition being carefully constructed to not only show the splendour of the Pacific Northwest at this particular point in the past, but also track the subtle changes to the environment as time progresses. Considering it spans nearly a century, the visual scope needed to capture these many details without making them the focal point of the film, which is where we find a lot of the film’s most interesting and insightful commentary emerging. Beyond being a technical achievement, the film is also an incredible work of emotional storytelling. The subject matter does lend itself to a slightly more sentimental tone, one which many people may mistake as being navel-gazing and too idealistic, but when we look at Train Dreams as less of a social realist text (which we tend to associate with this particular kind of story), and more an existential parable about a profoundly lonely soul trying to navigate life, attempting to make a difference without causing too much of a stir. There are moments in the film where it does feel like it is becoming too heavy-handed in terms of hammering in this message, and some of the story could have benefitted from a tighter and more succinct execution – but when we consider that this is not a film in which the same usual conventions are not present, we can’t apply the same metrics to adjudicate it, since this is clearly a work borne less from the desire to challenge and provoke, and more to be an atmospheric piece driven primarily by mood, which is certainly the impression we get by the end of this absolutely stunning, beautiful work of pure existential artistry.

The quietness and tranquility that linger over it should not be misunderstood – Train Dreams is an exceptional film, a simple, delicate testament to the human condition, as told through the eyes of one of its many souls lost to the brutal, unforgiving nature of time. This is not an easy story tell, since it hinges primarily on the mood more than anything else, and touches on ideas that can be a bit more difficult to communicate on screen. Bentley is not yet a household name, but he (and Kwedar, since while he may not have directed this film, he is clearly so closely in collaboration with Bentley that their creative partnership does indeed inform a lot of what makes this story work, in both the writing and execution phases) is evidently on his way to becoming quite notable, especially if we judge based on this fascinating and compelling film. It’s not particularly easy to describe, but it ultimately does prove to be more of a mood piece than a discursive work, which is perfectly aligned with the core concepts that ultimately drive this film as a whole. Anchored by a splendid performance by Edgerton, who has never been better (and its entirely possible that this could become his best performance – he’s extremely gifted, but there’s layers to his work here that may be difficult to beat), as well as a strong supporting cast, Train Dreams is an extraordinary achievement, proof that simplicity can be a triumph when done correctly and with enough motivation to challenge us to think beyond the obvious. It’s a film that requires the viewer to be actively engaged, and while it can sometimes feel slightly lopsided in its perspective (an intentional choice, particularly in refusing to provide absolutely all of the answers), there is something so beautifully poetic about how it navigates the world it creates for itself, becoming an astonishing piece of visual poetry that is as stimulating as it is endearing, proving that an entire life can indeed be compressed into 100 minutes of spellbinding, stunning cinematic artistry.