Train Dreams
What a gentle and beautiful film. From the start, I had a wonderful time watching this delicate story unfold. It didn’t make me cry; instead, it softly guided me to feel, to be completely carried away by its beautiful depiction of life.
This film makes you think, feel, and engage with the story on your own without shoving you face-first into the tragedy, the sadness, and the pain the characters are experiencing. It also captures the subtle sense that the more you have, the more there is to lose. That nagging feeling that something bad will inevitably come for you, and you are left helpless, with nothing to do but wait and see what catastrophe will strike next. It kept me still in my seat, clutching my heart, praying for hope to come for Robert.
The film also brilliantly portrayed how guilt and resentment silently follow you through life, searching and waiting for moments of weakness and despair to seep through and take over. Leaving you with nothing but emptiness to wrap its crooked hands around you, until the warmth in your life fades and everything becomes cold and barren.
But then, we also see how Robert starts to accept the reality of his loss, while still secretly and desperately holding onto hope. And this film manages to present the magnificence of hope, a bright and shining thing. How it brings streaks of light through the cracks of grief and loss, softly threading through the darkness and prying you away from its bruising grip. How it helps you take a fresh breath out of the confinement of self-loathing.
Overall, this is such a beautifully written film, and the gorgeous way it was shot is just the cherry on the cake. It made me feel deeply, and its depiction of life is painfully accurate.