Answering Johnathan Ross’s question on ‘…choosing an ambitious project like Crime and Punishment for a debut’, Aki Kaurismaki responded, ‘Hitchcock said he would never touch that book because it is too difficult. And I said, “I’ll show you, old man.” It was too difficult.’
At the time of Crime and Punishment’s release, critics disliked Kaurismaki’s ‘ambitious’ adaptation of Dostoyevsky’s masterpiece. But in recent years, I see cinephiles welcome this particular movie for the very reason critics rejected it: ambition. I like Kaurismaki’s debut too; it is weird, bitter, funny and grotesque—just like life itself. And there is no such thing as a good or bad adaptation, especially adapting famous texts for film. Some years ago, I tended to think a ‘good’ adaptation meant being faithful to the original source material. And by originality, I mean the conversion of text to film in a way that holds and (re)presents the core of the source text. Now I think any conversion of text to film is worth paying attention as the aim is to see the film in relation to the text, not to mirror it or distort it.
The reception of Train Dreams, at least on the internet, has provoked a similar divide to the Finnish filmmaker’s debut. Some argue Clint Bentley and Kwedar (the director and screenwriter of the movie) have changed critical parts of Denis Johnson’s novella of the same name. Others say no matter how faithful an adaptation, Train Dreams is a good film on its own merits.
The main difference between Bentley’s Train Dreams and Kaurisamki’s is that Train Dreams is not an ambitious project. Rather, it is humble and intimate. The film unfolds with much self-reflection—both for the main character and for the filmmaker too—and appears as an inward journey to find the worth of life.
However, Train Dreams for me is both a good and a bad film in equal measures. What I mean by this is, for example, the film holds its powerful imagery on the same level as its distracting voiceover. The acting is very naturalistic and deep, but the pace of the film shifts unnecessarily.
Train Dreams is a meditation on loneliness at the dawn of America’s rise to be a superpower. Robert Grainier, portrayed beautifully by Joel Edgerton, is a wandering introvert, trying to place himself in the current of the new American zeitgeist after the First World War. Grainier is a humble lumberjack labourer working on the expansion of the Great Northern Railways in Idaho. He recounts his long life, the loss of his family, jobs he’s done, his travels, and his everlasting love for the great outdoors.
One way to relate to Grainier’s way of life is through American Romanticism and the philosophy of American writers such as Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Emerson. Grainier is a reclusive character. He builds a cabin by the riverbank with his lover, Gladys, and remains there for the rest of his life. He goes on jobs, away from Gladys and their newborn, and comes back to shelter at home. He even rebuilds the house from the ashes of a great fire that took his wife and his daughter. He is often silent, but he cares for listening. In American Romanticism, transcending the self through reflecting on nature is a value. A practical philosophy that comes with contemplation, silence, reflection, and deeper observation. Grainier, naturally, inherited all these characteristics. American Romanticism also invites the person who seeks the meaning of life to withdraw from the cruel, noisy, and industrious world in an attempt to reconnect to nature. This is also Grainier’s main element. He is not from the city and has no desire for the rising urbanism.
The voiceover in the film informs us that he does not know much about either his family or his childhood years. He found himself quitting school to join workers to make a living. He is quiet, shy, and deep down a character with existential contemplation regarding nature. This perfectly translates in the aesthetics of the film via subtle camerawork that is not hasty in showing us the pleasures and horrors of life.
As a young man, Grainier witnesses the murder of a fellow labourer, a Chinese immigrant worker, by white folks as a part of the anti-Chinese sentiment in the US. He failed to prevent brutality, and this inability to stand against cruelty haunts him for the rest of his life. It was also the initiation of a doom feeling he carried for most of his life, thinking that he was destined to experience pain. Such thought made him believe something terrible is following him constantly. He sensed a great tragedy is upon him.
Although the film attempts to dive deeper into the realm of fantasies of the mind and melancholy, the back-and-forth cuts into his memories disorient the narrative. This makes it somehow unclear for the audience to track his life events in chronological order.
Bentley’s appreciation for nature comes with respect. He places his camera at a distance from nature to serve two purposes: to depict the main character in direct relation with his surroundings—the scenery, his job, his family, and the tragic fate of his loved ones. Also, to invite the audience to read the story in a larger context. Such context, I think, is the metaphor for the notion of time for us and its occurrence in nature. Grainier’s workmate, Arn Peeples, often reflects on nature as an eternal being that stands outside the common understanding of time. Claire, one of Grainier’s few friends, also says, ‘Everything grows so fast here. You can barely tell a fire came through here.’ A seemingly simple remark stating that life will go on regardless of the scope of disasters that happen to man.
Altogether, Train Dreams is a contemplative slow-burn drama with deep admiration for life. It tells us to trust nature, to look for beauty, to allow ourselves to wander aimlessly, and to move forward even when everything seems to be lost.
Train Dreams is currently being shown in select theatres and available to stream on Netflix.
We have a favour to ask
LeftLion is Nottingham’s meeting point for information about what’s going on in our city, from the established organisations to the grassroots. We want to keep what we do free to all to access, but increasingly we are relying on revenue from our readers to continue. Can you spare a few quid each month to support us?
