Stillness In Cinema: Why Film "Train Dreams" Deserved Best Cinematography

My boyfriend approached me this evening, asking me if we could use my Netflix login to watch the 2025 film, Train Dreams. After much deliberation and reluctance (I had my hopes set on watching Sex and the City, a comfort show), I yielded, and for two hours, we were both encapsulated by the beauty, grief, and a strikingly human portrayal of life. Train Dreams, directed by Clint Bentley and based on the 2011 novella by Denis Johnson, has received a 94% on Rotten Tomatoes, and a 4/5 on Letterboxd since its release. As someone who is (unashamedly) willing to admit my attention span has been shortened due to short-form content, Train Dreams not only gathered me into its orbit within the first few scenes, but also successfully held my attention for the entire duration, without the desire to skip ahead or any lapse in attention. At the end of the film, I was left wanting more - not of the characters, or even a sequel - but simply more cinema that explored the themes and cinematography that Train Dreams did. I will not provide you with a synopsis of the film - I encourage you to watch it for yourself - but be prepared to cry and laugh within moments. Although I did fall in love with the acting, story, and meaning of the film, what lingered with me most was the cinematography and the constant presence of nature.

Train Dreams embraces something rarely seen in film now: naturalism and the idea of enhancing reality, not building an entire set to replace or replicate it. The scenes were shot on real pieces of land, with big, towering trees, authentic textures, and natural light. The film mastered the art of using stillness, framing, and the environment to portray deep feelings of loneliness and isolation. It stood out to me in contrast to other films that received awards during the 2026 Academy Awards, such as One Battle After Another and Sinners. Although both films were awarded Best Picture and Best Cinematography, I noticed that neither had one thing Train Dreams did: stillness. Because of its reflective, sedated nature, Train Dreams not only tells a story, but it leaves me feeling as though I want to really look inward, into my own humanity and existence. It made me ask myself, "What is my purpose here? Am I significant? Do I have to do great things to be significant?" One Battle After Another and Sinners were entertaining and covered their own appropriate themes in their own right, but they did not leave me with existential questions after they were done.

I think Train Dreams struck me on a personal level because of my childhood growing up surrounded by the millennia-old forests of New Zealand. My parents, specifically my father, raised me to be accustomed to hiking every summer throughout the native Kauri trees and some of the oldest species of ferns in the world; hiking Mt. Tongariro, The Pinnacles, and trails around the Bay of Islands. New Zealand's nature, both on land and in the ocean, has this sort of untouched, still, lost-in-time essence to it, and sometimes, while I was hiking, it felt as though I was the first person to ever see the things around me. Train Dreams has the same magic instilled in its cinematography. Not only does it create a suspended enchantment in the visual aspect, but through brilliant (although sometimes scarce) dialogue performed by the talented actors and character interaction, it creates a world in which a viewer can acknowledge the realness and relevance of the film. Mirroring reality, Train Dreams lingers on topics that humans are often afraid of embracing: grief, loss, and quiet existence instead of grand achievements. In doing so, the quiet existence becomes the grand achievement, creating space for the viewer to recognise that life itself, spared of all its glamour, passion, and constant forward motion, is a beautiful and miraculous accomplishment on its own.

Perhaps it is easy to fall in love with Train Dreams because it illustrates a life much simpler than the one we are currently living. We are surrounded by technology, news, corporations, and an endless stream of information every day, and maybe the film connects with people because it reminds us of a simpler time before our lives were so consumed by these constant demands. Perhaps it resonates so deeply because it shows a life many of us quietly long for. The loss and sadness are unavoidable (no one wants their beloveds to die, but it is to be expected in human life), and maybe some of us dream of returning to a log cabin, surrounded by wildflowers, next to a river, and encircled by nothing but the natural world as Henry David Thoreau once experienced and wrote about. Train Dreams reminded me of a quote from Thoreau that I read in AP Literature and Composition class during my senior year of high school, "Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” (Walden).

It is not necessary to have grown up surrounded by New Zealand nature to appreciate the cinematic and natural themes of Train Dreams. Any person with empathy and the ability to appreciate visual beauty can see that the film is not just a story about the logging industry, loneliness, or death; it outlines how we are all human, we all experience loss, and we will all return to the same earth. That is why I believe Train Dreams deserved to be awarded Best Cinematography. After watching Train Dreams, we too can resign ourselves to the influence of the earth and know that the existence of life - the stillness - is significant enough.

Works Cited

Train Dreams. Directed by Clint Bentley, performances by Joel Edgerton et al., IMDb, 2025, Train Dreams IMDb page.

“Train Dreams.” Rotten Tomatoes, Fandango, https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/train_dreams. Accessed 27 Mar. 2026.

Thoreau, Henry David. “Quotes.” Goodreads, Henry David Thoreau Quotes.