HAMNET, TRAIN DREAMS, and the Tragedy of Netflix

a stunning moment in Chloe Zhao's Hamnet

*I don't spoil either film here besides the loose concept that sad things happen in both movies.*

Tragedy in a film is something easily approached, but delicately, if not even precariously, executed. Tightrope walking upon the razor thin margin of error for a film to effectively employ a tragic turn of plot all too easily slides into melodrama at best and outright exploitation at worst. Some films and stories have handily approached this by leaning into the knee jerk reactions of its potential, like Titanic for example, a film which takes tragedy as the very focal point of its exploration. Others, like adaptations of Shakespeare, though he very well might have invented the western world's approach to dramatic tragedy, center the film around inherent flaws within its characters and thereby mine tragedy via humanistic study. One of the most difficult tricks to pull is to maintain both the weight of tragedy and a nuanced and grounded connection to the world, as something like A Hidden Life does so effectively. This can of course go wrong in any number of ways, though the most common is when tragedy is employed simply for dramatic purpose, almost as if the writer felt themselves a god and inflicted their perverse will upon unwitting characters. Indeed, incongruous, messy and even cheap tragedy occurs in real life, though the ways in which a film or narrative utilizes its employ can either provide a point of approach by which to even process the horrible things in the world or conversely, reduce, cheapen and further compound the problem.  

Hearing the premise of Chloe Zhao’s Hamnet, and even watching a good portion of its runtime, may bring concerns of that latter designation to the forefront. Hamnet is a film of intense emotion and so visceral are its considerations, so naked its expressions of pain, that for it to successfully find its way through the melodramatic soap minefield seemed uncertain. However, as all great films, by virtue of the specifics in its execution, things like performance, camera and overall tone, Hamnet is able to approach immense internal grief, all while finding not just catharsis, but distinct human expression, transcending the knee-jerk emotions of its premise. This has certainly been a tenant of Chloe Zhao’s past work, yet with the performances of Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal (and an actually unreal child performance from one Jacobi Jupe) as well as inspired interplay with both nature and the works of Shakespeare, the film finds its way into a distinctly moving, even spiritual, experience. The final sequence of Hamnet, which centers itself around a performance of Shakespeare’s most famous play, is a virtuosic bit of filmmaking and one which ultimately provides immense catharsis. Hamnet then is indeed “about” tragedy, yet it is not simply seeking for either cheap displays of pain or to be a pretentious award winning film. Hament is about the very emotions that constitute living, some of the joy, some of the pain, revealed in the human connections we cherish, and ultimately, Hamnet does what art in its most pure form can: provides a space where these tapestries of feeling might be considered. 

In a similar vein, Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams, somehow a film Netflix decided to acquire, also has tragedy on its mind. Where Zhao’s story chooses as its subject figures that are among the most famous to ever live (though in an inspired choice moves the action mostly to Agnes rather than William), Bentley’s film concerns itself with an unassuming logger in the early 20th century and the various trials and tribulations of his life. While focusing the story not around a capital “G” great man of history proves an inspired choice for the film, the family drama of its plot is easily another topic which could have mined cheap platitudes, and perhaps shortchanged its audience in so doing. However, while there are some moments which verge rather close to this line (and a pesky, if still nicely delivered by the wonderful Will Patton, narration which undercuts many a moment by explaining its thematic purpose directly), again by virtue of its overall technical execution, the film immediately makes several effective decisions to curb what may have been a reductive experience otherwise.

Joel Edgerton and Felicity Jones with a child and trees in Train Dreams

For one, Train Dreams is a film operating in something approaching full montage. There are indeed scenes in this movie, this is not something that could be called Eiesentsteinian, however, these scenes, when employed, flow wonderfully in relation to the other images around them. The picture still qualifies as an overall narrative, yet it effectively cultivates a meditative pace within the confines of its story. This is difficult to execute, and frankly, it is debatable the film is completely successful, however, overall the montage of the film's movement proves to be effective in curbing the reductive potential of its narrative, largely thanks to the absolutely gorgeous images that constitute its components. 

Where Hamnet was shot on 35mm film to typically beautiful effect, Train Dreams is shot digitally, providing an example of what that medium can do when properly considered and not used as a crutch for lazy filmmaking. Digital is capable of shooting at night with greater detail than analog film and we can see that here in a wide array of beautiful night visages, yet perhaps more remarkably, the filmmakers, partly by virtue of natural lighting, are able to never lose sense of the tangible feeling of nature that the film needs so desperately. Both Hamnet and Train Dreams are able to create a distinct combination of poetic form/pseudo-montage style editing and natural cinematography (both film and digital) to bring each film respectively to a distinct place of emotion, which makes their approaches to the strifes of their lead characters far more moving. If these films were not presented in the way they are, neither would not be anywhere near as powerful. Form not only creates meaning, it enhances it.

Yet, there is another tragedy outside of both Hamnet and Train Dreams only beginning to show its face, even if it's one we may collectively already tire of discussing. I watched Train Dreams at home on Netflix. While the film played theatrically for a while, it claimed no major branding and thus remained largely out of my personal reach. In watching Train Dreams at home, I do not think that I was unable to properly consider what the film might have been able to offer, nor do I think the film is somehow lesser. However, I was able to see Hamnet in the movie theater, as that film's distributor ensured its presence on far more screens. Our showtime was fortunately essentially full and while we were subjected to the violation that is Coca-Cola’s AI generated ad directly before the movie began, the film provided us with an enveloping, enriching experience, made all the more complete by virtue of its presentation. In both circumstances I enjoyed the film at hand and felt capable of seeing the movie for what it had to offer, however, by virtue of its exhibition in a public movie house, Hamnet was granted greater significance and importance, even within the confines inherent to a megaplex. It was not merely something we consumed, but something we were able to approach, engage with, and ultimately feel. Train Dreams is one of the year’s best films, and watching it on Netflix you can still see that, but Hamnet, also one of the year’s finest cinematic achievements, in a movie theater, is given the respect it deserves, which in turn impacts how we receive it as an audience. The experience was far more potent, more enveloping and ultimately, more emotional. 

At risk of being overly dramatic, though, especially in “light of recent events” it’s feeling a bit undeniable that Netflix, and really the establishment, is fighting a war to, effectively, kill cinema. Many will hear a luddite dog whistle in that sentiment, claiming a brash, overly romantic connection to “the Hollywood of yesteryear,” likely as the main foundation in the anti-Netflix argument is typically built around their refusal to theatrically distribute their films. Perhaps there is some validity in this and it is a mistake to ever cherish any institution so greatly that progress is ignored. Yet, it is vital to examine who is claiming what to be truly “the future." Simply put, there’s much more to the theatrical experience, and with it the importance of cinema, than simply, “big loud screen and sound nice," even if that alone is worthwhile in its own right. 

Yes, theaters are maybe not full egalitarian houses to empower the people, and the sanctification of the theaters by the former Hollywood establishment certainly has an element of the auteurs longing for the time they were in power. Yet, there is validity in their significance. In addition to the movie theater's unique capability to maximize the experience of a film, theatrical exhibition creates further lines between exhibition, distribution and production, diluting any one company's overall power, resulting in a more diverse, healthy and ultimately even robust and competitive industry. The movie theater prevents any one corporation from fully controlling a film’s overall fate, which in a sense does in fact hand some power back to the people. Furthermore, a theatrically distributed film ensures the movie matters more than becoming simply added corporate value, investor incentive and “content” to mindlessly shove down consumer throats. Netflix, and frankly much of the corporate establishment, increasingly want to see all films as merely pieces in their overall content pie. Streaming a film removes its tangibility, while theatrical releases and physical media elevate them, in turn empowering the viewer. This is an argument within a capitalist society, but it is a tool worth highlighting.

Jessie Buckley will likely win an Oscar for this

At the moment, Netflix is still incentivized to at the very least acquire movies like Train Dreams, be it thanks to a desire to win Oscars, pressure from the last gasps of cinema’s tastemakers or perhaps just in an attempt to silence their critics. Netflix, this year alone, has released a handful of great films and while I still managed to see Frankenstein and Wake Up Dead Man in a theater (though even that would be much harder to do in other areas as those got the small releases they did largely thanks to coming from proven director brands), in light of the new Warner Bros deal, which would allow Netflix to swallow one of the great film libraries and studios, it becomes doubtful that will be the case for much longer (Paramount acquiring Warner Bros, would also be a terrible thing, though that specifically may be an essay for another day). Netflix and the rest of the internet tech industry are desperate to convince us that their destiny-like vision of the future, one that mostly enriches the establishment and diminishes human connection, is, as Sarandos has repeatedly said, “consumer friendly” and immutable (not to even mention the horror that is Disney's Open AI deal). In cinematic terms, they frame their reign as if it is the 1927 advent of sound in pictures. This does not have to be the case. The vision they’ve outlined is not truly a leap forward, represents nothing progressive, not just politically but in aesthetic form, and will only result in a worse world for the majority of people. It’s probably true that a legacy media company like Warner Bros. maintaining its autonomy is hardly a progressive act, but any fight to hold on to what is human, what is artful, what has meaning, is one still worthwhile. Hamnet in a theater shows the amazing potential those rooms have to elevate the human feeling of a particular film and to provide a space for human communication and connection via cinema. Train Dreams shows that yes, at least at the moment, Netflix still can be a vehicle for cinema, but if they take full control, it's hard to believe that remains the case for a great deal longer and that would be nothing short of a tragedy.

so yeah please go see Hamnet in theater if you can and as stated Train Dreams is available on Netflix.