It’s not every day that a film as quietly devastating as Train Dreams arrives on the scene, but director Clint Bentley’s adaptation of Denis Johnson’s novella has done just that—leaving audiences and critics alike deeply moved. Released on Netflix and set in the early 20th century American Northwest, the film tells the story of Robert Grainier, a humble lumberjack and railway worker whose life is marked by profound personal tragedy and the relentless march of progress. On January 2, 2026, Joel Edgerton, who stars as Grainier, opened up to Screen International about his emotional connection to the role, drawing on his own experiences as a new father and reflecting on the everyday heroism found in ordinary lives.
At first glance, Train Dreams might seem like another period drama, but it quickly becomes clear that Bentley and Edgerton are after something more subtle. According to The Tribune, the film is about “endurance without heroics, grief without spectacle, and progress that leaves people behind.” It resists the temptation to turn loss into a dramatic obstacle to be overcome. Instead, as the review notes, “grief, when it comes, is nothing like we expect it to be.” That sentiment sits at the heart of the narrative, as Edgerton’s Robert Grainier learns to live with absence rather than conquer it.
The story, as recounted by The Tribune, follows Grainier from his days as an orphaned laborer working on America’s burgeoning railways. Early in his career, he witnesses the brutal murder of a Chinese coworker by other laborers—a moment that haunts him and reflects the prejudice and violence of the era. Grainier eventually marries Gladys (played by Felicity Jones), and together they carve out a modest existence in the wilds of Washington state, raising a daughter in a cabin built by their own hands. Their life is marked by isolation—Robert’s work keeps him away for long stretches, while Gladys maintains the household alone.
Then, disaster strikes. A massive wildfire sweeps through the region, claiming the lives of both Gladys and their daughter, leaving Grainier utterly alone. The film doesn’t dwell on melodrama; instead, it follows Robert as he drifts between labor camps and temporary settlements, befriending fellow worker Ignatius (Nathaniel Arcand) and, in a poignant turn, rescuing a pack of abandoned dogs. These small acts of companionship and responsibility become lifelines for a man whose world has been reduced to memories and survival.
In conversation with Screen International, Edgerton described how the role resonated with him on a personal level. He revealed that he first encountered Johnson’s novella as a gift after directing Boy Erased, and though he initially hoped to adapt it himself, rights issues forced him to let go of the idea. Years later, the opportunity to play Grainier arrived just as he had become a father to twins—an experience that, as he recounted, brought its own share of fear and uncertainty. “It was a chance to do something a bit more close to me than I would typically look for,” Edgerton said, his voice reportedly trembling with emotion as he reflected on his children’s difficult early days. The weight of new fatherhood, he explained, helped him empathize with Grainier’s struggles and the crushing sense of responsibility that can come with parenthood.
This deep identification with his character is evident in Edgerton’s performance, which is marked by restraint and subtlety. There are no grand emotional breakdowns or speeches—instead, as The Tribune observes, “grief registers in his stillness.” It’s a style reminiscent of Edgerton’s acclaimed turn as Richard Loving in Loving, where internal conflict and guilt simmer beneath the surface. Edgerton himself acknowledged this connection, saying, “I was raised Catholic, and I know guilt plays a big part in my life,” highlighting how his upbringing continues to influence the roles he chooses and the way he approaches them.
What sets Train Dreams apart from many historical dramas is its refusal to romanticize either hardship or the natural world. Bentley’s direction is steady and unsentimental—forests are neither menacing nor comforting by design; they simply exist, indifferent to human hopes and plans. Fire, loss, and change arrive without warning or resolution, much as they do in real life. The film’s visual language is spare, often ending scenes without clear emotional punctuation, inviting viewers to “sit inside moments rather than rush past them,” as The Tribune puts it.
The broader context of the film is equally striking. Train Dreams serves as a quiet indictment of America’s industrial growth, showing how the relentless push for progress can leave individuals like Grainier stranded on the margins. Trains and airplanes, once symbols of opportunity, become emblems of a world that has moved on, leaving behind those who built it. “The film does not celebrate industrialization,” notes The Tribune. “It shows how indifferent it can be.” In the end, Robert’s comforts—his rebuilt cabin, his rescued dogs—are fragile bulwarks against the tides of change.
Edgerton, for his part, seems drawn to these kinds of stories—narratives that find meaning in the ordinary and the overlooked. He joked to Screen International about Grainier being not a protagonist but just a “tagonist,” someone who observes more than he acts. “We tell stories to make sense of ourselves, and Train Dreams gives audiences the chance to celebrate an ordinary person,” he said, underscoring the film’s commitment to honoring lives that might otherwise go unnoticed.
Looking ahead, Edgerton is set to take on a very different challenge in the upcoming film Fangs, where he’ll play a violent criminal—an opportunity, he said, to explore the darker sides of human nature. He’s also been busy writing new material during the pandemic, with plans to direct a film about suburban life and the tensions simmering beneath middle-class respectability. Despite his success as an actor, Edgerton confessed that directing is his true passion, relishing its demands and the inability to hide from the final product. “As an actor, if the movie was good, you can say, ‘Yeah, that was me.’ But a director can’t hide,” he remarked, hinting at the introspection that drives his creative choices.
In the end, Train Dreams stands as a testament to endurance, loss, and the quiet dignity of lives lived in the shadow of progress. Through Edgerton’s nuanced performance and Bentley’s unflinching direction, the film invites viewers to reflect on the costs of change—and the resilience required to carry on when the world moves past you.
