While in our youth, as we struggled to understand the puzzling nature of life, many of us likely heard our elders say, “You’ll understand someday when you get older,” advice that we probably tucked away in good faith for future reference. But how many of us actually came upon that promised understanding when we grew into adulthood? Chances are, many of us patiently awaited the arrival of such insights only to discover that said assurance about them never panned out as hoped for. In fact, I’m willing to bet that failed expectation happened more frequently than not. And, in this sophomore feature outing from director Clint Bentley, that scenario would again seem to be the case as the film’s perpetually perplexed protagonist searches for meaning. But, considering how frequently this situation tends to occur in everyday life, for me, the key question becomes, do we really need to see a movie that depicts this kind of all-too-familiar experience, one that many of us have already gone through ourselves? This widely praised character study follows the life of Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), a logger who toils in the forests of the Pacific Northwest in the early 20th Century. Having been orphaned at a young age without ever knowing his parents, he’s always sought explanations for life’s mysteries, but they generally eluded him, even on into adulthood. And, in an era when the world was changing rapidly on many fronts, he longed for answers, though they never materialized, leaving him constantly wondering about his existence, particularly when he witnesses unexplained injustices, tragedies and personal setbacks. While it’s true that many of us can empathize with his circumstances, we nevertheless also can’t help but ask, “Well, who hasn’t gone through that?” (This isn’t exactly new ground.) In that sense, then, the film focuses on the yearning of a lost soul constantly striving for some grand revelation that never arrives, and it tries to elevate this notion to the level of something that’s never been conceived of before. Moreover, to emphasize the nobility of this point, the picture dresses it up with allegedly lofty voice-over observations that sound profound but that, frankly, don’t add much that’s meaningful or even interesting. The filmmaker also tries to cover these shortcomings with gorgeous cinematography and a capable lead performance by Edgerton (though, considering the admittedly less-than-demanding character of the role, that’s not exactly saying much). Perhaps the picture’s strongest (and most underrated) asset is its cast of colorful supporting players, most notably William H. Macy and Kerry Condon, though, regrettably, their screen time is somewhat limited. Given the accolades that have been generously showered on this offering, I find it disappointing that it fails to live up to the hype, both in terms of its cinematic attributes and, more importantly, the depth of its content. Maybe I’ll understand it better when I get older. But, given that there’s not much to understand in the first place, I sincerely doubt it.

I had high expectations going into TRAIN DREAMS, largely due to the heartwarming reception it received from friends and peers in the industry, along with some awards buzz. The film embraces 'slow cinema' at its most contemplative and dreamy, prioritizing mood and texture over a conventional plot. I'm a sucker for natural cinematography, and here the viewers are treated to pure visual cinema, capitalizing on the real wonders of our world with stunning static shots of sunsets near rivers and cabins deep in the woods. Even though the movie feels somewhat derivative and its trajectory becomes clear fairly quickly, it never drags or becomes dull thanks to the incredibly atmospheric score and the lyrical narration, which sets a poetic tone without ever feeling too heavy. At the heart of it all is Joel Edgerton, who delivers a career-best performance. It's a fantastic example of an "underperformance", a quiet display where dialogue is sparse, yet the actor transmits a universe of emotion, grief, and resilience exclusively through his facial expressions. It's a beautifully sad yet inspiring story about life, death, and endurance, sprinkled with surprisingly amusing moments of humor throughout the runtime. While I wish the film had gone deeper into some of its themes — specifically regarding cases of severe complicity from the protagonist, as well as the rawer edges of his grief — I understand that doing so might have worked against the dialogue-light structure Clint Bentley aimed for. TRAIN DREAMS ultimately stands as a testament to the power of enduring, proving that a quiet life is just as worthy of witnessing as a loud one. Rating: B