Showing posts with label Joel Edgerton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joel Edgerton. Show all posts
Sunday, February 8, 2026
Just watched...
"Train Dreams" and "The History of Sound." Over the holidays, I had some down time to catch up on films...I am also a Screen Actors Guild member and can vote in the Actor Awards (previously the SAG Awards) and got to see a lot of For Your Consideration films. I actually saw these two films a week or so apart but they beg to be watched as a double feature... does anyone here in the Bay Area recall the glory days of the UC Berkeley theatre on University Avenue and their amazingly creative double-feature scheduling? Watching these two together would be a marvelous study in time and space and cinematography.
I saw the lovely "Train Dreams" first, based on a 2011 novella by Denis Johnson, directed by Clint Bentley, and starring Joel Edgerton.
In the early 1900s, we meet our main character Robert Grainier, played with beautiful, skillful restraint by Edgerton, who arrives in Idaho without direction or purpose. He soon falls in love and marries a young woman and they have a baby girl. But Robert must provide and he goes to work on the Spokane International Railway, but the work is perilous and takes him away from his new family for long periods.
This compact tale is spare in its words and explanations, a characteristic I appreciate in film. It feels like a novella, in the best way. The actions tell the story here against a lyrical, majestic backdrop of forests and trees: the cinematography is something to weep over, it is so beautiful at times. Indeed, it reminded me of a Terrence Malick film with its achingly gorgeous and still meditations on nature and place. The production design is exquisite. And of course the acting is perfect, with everyone exhibiting the kind of stoicism that surely must have been required of anyone making their own way on the frontier, building their own cabin, surviving harsh winters, a scarcity of food, and a lack of money or work. At its heart, it is a tale about a man who does not have the vocabulary to express the tragedies that befall him...no way to understand the pain. But rather than be a downward spiral, the film leaves us with the sense that, as human beings, we can weather a lot and still stay on our feet, despite us wanting to lay down, to give up. Life is something to go through rather than around, even when it seems impossible to do so.
Next is the "The History of Sound" directed by Oliver Hermanus and written by Ben Shattuck, who adapted his short stories "The History of Sound" and "Origin Stories".
As mentioned, these two films, while different in subject matter, feel like a sip of water from the same well. They cover a similar time frame, and have a similar cinematography, capturing nature in a wide, wondrous way. In 1917, Lionel Worthing (Paul Mescal whom I adored in "All Of Us Strangers" seen here) meets David White (Josh O'Connor who was heartbreaking in "God's Own Country" here) while they are both attending the New England Conservatory of Music. They bond over their shared love of traditional and folk music, and are soon acting on their attraction to each other. They begin an affair they must, of course given the time period, keep secret. Unfortunately, David is drafted into the army to fight in World War I but upon his return, reconnects with Lionel. David invites him on a trip around the east coast to collect folk music from rural areas and the two set off on foot for an adventure. Their love deepens but, again in this time period, there is no scenario where they can be a couple and move into the world with any level of acceptance and hope of a successful life. Much like Robert in "Train Dreams" one of them is left to make sense of their time together, without being able to properly express it. Both of these films are gentle, tender stories that explore areas of the heart that are usually left unspoken, filled with things--love and loss--that endure even when, or because they hurt.
"Train Dreams" is nominated for Best Picture at the 2026 Oscars, while "The History of Sound" was nominated for the prestigious Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival.
Recommend? Absolutely, both films are gifts for the eyes and the heart, and the places they can take you to deserve to be recognized, to be held and kept company.
I saw the lovely "Train Dreams" first, based on a 2011 novella by Denis Johnson, directed by Clint Bentley, and starring Joel Edgerton.
In the early 1900s, we meet our main character Robert Grainier, played with beautiful, skillful restraint by Edgerton, who arrives in Idaho without direction or purpose. He soon falls in love and marries a young woman and they have a baby girl. But Robert must provide and he goes to work on the Spokane International Railway, but the work is perilous and takes him away from his new family for long periods.
This compact tale is spare in its words and explanations, a characteristic I appreciate in film. It feels like a novella, in the best way. The actions tell the story here against a lyrical, majestic backdrop of forests and trees: the cinematography is something to weep over, it is so beautiful at times. Indeed, it reminded me of a Terrence Malick film with its achingly gorgeous and still meditations on nature and place. The production design is exquisite. And of course the acting is perfect, with everyone exhibiting the kind of stoicism that surely must have been required of anyone making their own way on the frontier, building their own cabin, surviving harsh winters, a scarcity of food, and a lack of money or work. At its heart, it is a tale about a man who does not have the vocabulary to express the tragedies that befall him...no way to understand the pain. But rather than be a downward spiral, the film leaves us with the sense that, as human beings, we can weather a lot and still stay on our feet, despite us wanting to lay down, to give up. Life is something to go through rather than around, even when it seems impossible to do so.
Next is the "The History of Sound" directed by Oliver Hermanus and written by Ben Shattuck, who adapted his short stories "The History of Sound" and "Origin Stories".
As mentioned, these two films, while different in subject matter, feel like a sip of water from the same well. They cover a similar time frame, and have a similar cinematography, capturing nature in a wide, wondrous way. In 1917, Lionel Worthing (Paul Mescal whom I adored in "All Of Us Strangers" seen here) meets David White (Josh O'Connor who was heartbreaking in "God's Own Country" here) while they are both attending the New England Conservatory of Music. They bond over their shared love of traditional and folk music, and are soon acting on their attraction to each other. They begin an affair they must, of course given the time period, keep secret. Unfortunately, David is drafted into the army to fight in World War I but upon his return, reconnects with Lionel. David invites him on a trip around the east coast to collect folk music from rural areas and the two set off on foot for an adventure. Their love deepens but, again in this time period, there is no scenario where they can be a couple and move into the world with any level of acceptance and hope of a successful life. Much like Robert in "Train Dreams" one of them is left to make sense of their time together, without being able to properly express it. Both of these films are gentle, tender stories that explore areas of the heart that are usually left unspoken, filled with things--love and loss--that endure even when, or because they hurt.
"Train Dreams" is nominated for Best Picture at the 2026 Oscars, while "The History of Sound" was nominated for the prestigious Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival.
Recommend? Absolutely, both films are gifts for the eyes and the heart, and the places they can take you to deserve to be recognized, to be held and kept company.
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Thursday, November 29, 2012
Just watched...
…two films that I would normally not watch, yet I feel compelled to write about them.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, when one is stuck inside a small Mid-west home with relatives, and with not much to do, sometimes a film on television is a nice distraction (if one’s mother-in-law will stop talking long enough for the dialogue to be heard). That is how I came to watch “Mr. Holland’s Opus” with Richard Dreyfuss. As I said, this is not a film that I would normally be attracted to. It was released in 1995 and I had managed to avoid it all these years, but alas, it was on, and there I was. And I must say that I was a little surprised. It seemed like something one would roll one’s eyes at on the Hallmark Channel, and although there is a definite “Hallmark Channel”-ness to it all, it does have some sweet moments.
For those, like me, who have never seen it, we follow Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfuss), musician/ teacher/ composer through the ups and downs of his life. His first day of teaching music in high school does not go well, but he develops a passion for it and for bringing music to the lives of his kids. He and his wife have a son who, to the dismay of Glenn, turns out to be deaf. Deprived of sharing his passion for music with his son, Glenn keeps their relationship at arm’s length. Yes, I know, this all sounds VERY “Hallmark”-y, but as the years passed, and as the characters grew (up or old, depending), I ended up being drawn in. Mixed in with a predictable story line are some poignant and genuine events and emotions. The way children can be inspired by teachers, and the special bond that can develop between a student and a mentor is lovingly depicted in this film. Mostly, I found “Mr. Holland’s Opus” to be an inspirational ode to teachers, those people who are not paid enough to tackle a job that very few feel called to pursue. And I thought of a few people and very special teachers in my own life who may have started out as teachers but ended up as dear friends, to this very day. Being shown immense possibilities and a world of culture by these most special people helped make me who I am today. As I watched his students’ tribute to Mr. Holland, I thought of my very own Mr. Hollands: thank you forever to Odette, Anne, Betty, and Harvey… I love you all.
Recommend? Yes, I think so.
The second of the two films I would normally never see, I saw on the airplane coming back home to Northern California. Being trapped on a plane is another place where one might as well try to make the time go faster by watching whatever is being shown. And on the flight west, they were showing a more recent film from 2012, “The Odd Life Of Timothy Green.”
Based on a concept by Ahmet Zappa and starring Jennifer Garner, Joel Edgerton, and CJ Adams, this film is another film that seems like it would be right at home on the Hallmark Channel (it was made by Disney after all), but unlike “Mr. Holland’s Opus” which deals with real life situations and disappointments, “Timothy Green” is an absolute fable, a fairy tale, perhaps even an updated version of a folk tale. When Cindy and Jim Green (Garner and Edgerton) find out they cannot have children of their own, they try to come to terms with the emotionally devastating news by conducting a very personal ritual, the kind that seems like it would come from Jungian psychology: after heartache and some wine, they imagine the son they will never have and memorialize his qualities and life events with pencil on slips of notebook paper which they gather and put into a small wooden box. That night, they bury the box in the garden behind their house, but a suspicious freak storm arises, and after the ground has been watered, a charming and muddy ten-year old boy shows up in their home (played with stunning maturity and beautiful sensitivity by CJ Adams), referring to Jim and Cindy as mom and dad. They actually put two and two together, unlike so many dense film characters, and understand that this is the magical manifestation of their imaginary child.
The story from here on is perhaps a tad predictable, but the tone of the film is gentle, unhurried, and slightly surreal. This is because the film also possesses a kind of metaphysical charm, since it aligns itself with the aforementioned fairy tale template. Think of Gepetto carving a son out of wood, and wanting with all his heart for Pinocchio to be real. Think of Greek myths where Baucis and Philemon turn into an oak and linden tree respectively, or Daphne turns into a laurel tree. Think of fairy tales where plants have magical properties like a beanstalk that grows to the clouds. This type of symbiotic and mystical relationship between man and plant has been around for centuries. Witness the Wiccan Green Man which shows up in many other unrelated cultures. So, of course since Timothy is from the natural world, he possesses a certain innocence coupled with a supreme self-realized, calm, and innate knowledge which touches the lives of all those around him. I can forgive the film for being a bit sappy and sentimental since it is clearly presented in a way that does not mistake itself for reality. It turns out to be lyrical, fantastical, and quite touching. Perhaps it touched me so because, as regular readers can tell from recent posts, I just observed the anniversaries of the deaths of both of my parents, who died well before their time, and before they would have wanted to leave. The absolute, unconditional love for their magical son exhibited by both Jim and Cindy Green reminds me so much of the rare, unique unconditional love I felt from my mom and dad. Perhaps it is because I still miss them so much that I found this film to be so tender and vital. It might be a modern fairy tale, but the yearning to nurture, to love, and to connect is genuine and universal. And like so many folk and fairy tales, “The Odd Life of Timothy Green” has a very bittersweet ending. From love and loss comes growth. Something must die for something else to be born.
Recommend? Yes. It has a lovely heart and is certainly worth a view.
http://disney.go.com/the-odd-life-of-timothy-green/
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, when one is stuck inside a small Mid-west home with relatives, and with not much to do, sometimes a film on television is a nice distraction (if one’s mother-in-law will stop talking long enough for the dialogue to be heard). That is how I came to watch “Mr. Holland’s Opus” with Richard Dreyfuss. As I said, this is not a film that I would normally be attracted to. It was released in 1995 and I had managed to avoid it all these years, but alas, it was on, and there I was. And I must say that I was a little surprised. It seemed like something one would roll one’s eyes at on the Hallmark Channel, and although there is a definite “Hallmark Channel”-ness to it all, it does have some sweet moments.
For those, like me, who have never seen it, we follow Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfuss), musician/ teacher/ composer through the ups and downs of his life. His first day of teaching music in high school does not go well, but he develops a passion for it and for bringing music to the lives of his kids. He and his wife have a son who, to the dismay of Glenn, turns out to be deaf. Deprived of sharing his passion for music with his son, Glenn keeps their relationship at arm’s length. Yes, I know, this all sounds VERY “Hallmark”-y, but as the years passed, and as the characters grew (up or old, depending), I ended up being drawn in. Mixed in with a predictable story line are some poignant and genuine events and emotions. The way children can be inspired by teachers, and the special bond that can develop between a student and a mentor is lovingly depicted in this film. Mostly, I found “Mr. Holland’s Opus” to be an inspirational ode to teachers, those people who are not paid enough to tackle a job that very few feel called to pursue. And I thought of a few people and very special teachers in my own life who may have started out as teachers but ended up as dear friends, to this very day. Being shown immense possibilities and a world of culture by these most special people helped make me who I am today. As I watched his students’ tribute to Mr. Holland, I thought of my very own Mr. Hollands: thank you forever to Odette, Anne, Betty, and Harvey… I love you all.
Recommend? Yes, I think so.
The second of the two films I would normally never see, I saw on the airplane coming back home to Northern California. Being trapped on a plane is another place where one might as well try to make the time go faster by watching whatever is being shown. And on the flight west, they were showing a more recent film from 2012, “The Odd Life Of Timothy Green.”
Based on a concept by Ahmet Zappa and starring Jennifer Garner, Joel Edgerton, and CJ Adams, this film is another film that seems like it would be right at home on the Hallmark Channel (it was made by Disney after all), but unlike “Mr. Holland’s Opus” which deals with real life situations and disappointments, “Timothy Green” is an absolute fable, a fairy tale, perhaps even an updated version of a folk tale. When Cindy and Jim Green (Garner and Edgerton) find out they cannot have children of their own, they try to come to terms with the emotionally devastating news by conducting a very personal ritual, the kind that seems like it would come from Jungian psychology: after heartache and some wine, they imagine the son they will never have and memorialize his qualities and life events with pencil on slips of notebook paper which they gather and put into a small wooden box. That night, they bury the box in the garden behind their house, but a suspicious freak storm arises, and after the ground has been watered, a charming and muddy ten-year old boy shows up in their home (played with stunning maturity and beautiful sensitivity by CJ Adams), referring to Jim and Cindy as mom and dad. They actually put two and two together, unlike so many dense film characters, and understand that this is the magical manifestation of their imaginary child.
The story from here on is perhaps a tad predictable, but the tone of the film is gentle, unhurried, and slightly surreal. This is because the film also possesses a kind of metaphysical charm, since it aligns itself with the aforementioned fairy tale template. Think of Gepetto carving a son out of wood, and wanting with all his heart for Pinocchio to be real. Think of Greek myths where Baucis and Philemon turn into an oak and linden tree respectively, or Daphne turns into a laurel tree. Think of fairy tales where plants have magical properties like a beanstalk that grows to the clouds. This type of symbiotic and mystical relationship between man and plant has been around for centuries. Witness the Wiccan Green Man which shows up in many other unrelated cultures. So, of course since Timothy is from the natural world, he possesses a certain innocence coupled with a supreme self-realized, calm, and innate knowledge which touches the lives of all those around him. I can forgive the film for being a bit sappy and sentimental since it is clearly presented in a way that does not mistake itself for reality. It turns out to be lyrical, fantastical, and quite touching. Perhaps it touched me so because, as regular readers can tell from recent posts, I just observed the anniversaries of the deaths of both of my parents, who died well before their time, and before they would have wanted to leave. The absolute, unconditional love for their magical son exhibited by both Jim and Cindy Green reminds me so much of the rare, unique unconditional love I felt from my mom and dad. Perhaps it is because I still miss them so much that I found this film to be so tender and vital. It might be a modern fairy tale, but the yearning to nurture, to love, and to connect is genuine and universal. And like so many folk and fairy tales, “The Odd Life of Timothy Green” has a very bittersweet ending. From love and loss comes growth. Something must die for something else to be born.
Recommend? Yes. It has a lovely heart and is certainly worth a view.
http://disney.go.com/the-odd-life-of-timothy-green/
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