Joel Edgerton on Train Dreams, Timothee Chalamet, and Box Office Panic

Deep into the opening-night party at the Middleburg Film Festival, Joel Edgerton hunches over a cocktail table, flipping through the event’s official program. On each page, he points out a movie or two that he’s eager to see, from international prize-winners like No Other Choice and It Was Just an Accident to star-studded American films A House of Dynamite and Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere. “Want to see that, want to see that, want to see that,” he keeps repeating, finding more enthusiasm with each new discovery. Unfortunately, he won’t have the time to watch anything. He’s landed in Virginia to accept the festival’s Outstanding Achievement in Acting award, not check out the (friendly) competition. 

It’s not a bad problem to have. As Edgerton tells The Hollywood Reporter over coffee the next afternoon, the circuit is allowing Train Dreams, his little-movie-that-could, to flourish. As it’s hopped from Toronto to London to the American South — an aggressive fall awards campaign that’ll lead into a small theatrical release on Nov. 7, then Netflix’s platform launch on Nov. 21 — the lyrical drama is emerging as a word-of-mouth success story. I seem to hear about it everywhere I go. It stands out as the hidden gem in the streamer’s busy slate, which is toplined by such A-listers as George Clooney (Jay Kelly) and Jacob Elordi (Frankenstein).

Directed by Oscar nominee Clint Bentley, Train Dreams premiered in Sundance after a challenging road to production. It’s adapted from Denis Johnson’s novella and follows Robert Grainier, a logger working on the railroad that will cross the United States, at the turn of the 20th century. The hushed, emotional character study charts Robert’s entire life, examining his encounters with love and loss, marriage and parenthood, friendship and rivalry. Edgerton anchors the piece with remarkable assurance and presence — it feels like the role that the Australian star has been working toward his whole career.

He seems to agree, though the movie was not easy to make and took a lot out of Edgerton. “Train Dreams is the most personal I’ve allowed myself to be on screen,” he says. “I haven’t experienced all of the things that Robert experienced, but I’ve thought about them and they live inside of me.” As awards buzz builds for his tender performance in the movie, this also marks an intriguing moment of reflection for the actor, who’s lived many lives in Hollywood but feels like he’s finally finding his groove. “I consider myself quite sensitive to the world and quite observant of things around me,” he says. “I feel capable — and not always in control of things.”

This movie is about life passing us by as we struggle to hold our loved ones close. I would imagine that’s relatable for an actor who’s often on the move. 

Trying to harmonize work and family — I think people can relate to that even if their work is 45 minutes down the road. A big reason why I’m an actor was shaped by trying to get the attention of my dad who was always busy. He was providing, he was starting a business; he would leave early in the morning, and a lot of nights of the week, I didn’t get to say goodnight to him. I was already asleep. 

The adult point of view is wrestling with guilt and how good a parent you are if you’re not face-to-face with them all the time, because kids just want contact. I realized I, for example, couldn’t direct another movie until my kids were squared away at school. If I could spend time with them, I wanted to, and it was easier to be an actor than to have the full responsibility of directing. I knew that would take me away more mentally.

Your work in Train Dreams is so quiet and delicate, and I’ve long thought of you as a great nonverbal actor, going back particularly to Loving. 

That was also a new thing for me [during Loving], in a way. I started to think about, “What would it mean to have a lot to say but not say it? What would it be like to feel like the world is pushing you around and you want to rail against it, but you don’t know how?” Robert’s a bit like that [in Train Dreams]. I’ve had the experience before, and it was good to think about that experience with Jeff Nichols when I was approaching this and realize it takes a different kind of focus and trust to ask an audience to come on a journey with you without you saying much to give them certain clues.

You had another very independent project in The Plague premiere this year in Cannes. What goes into saying yes to films that don’t pay as much and are harder to get made — and released?

I feel like I’ve got something to provide on a smaller scale of filmmaking. I could definitely find my place and plug into a bigger scale movie, but maybe it’s my ego that says that I’ll get to participate more in the creative pursuit if I’m doing something at a smaller budget — whether I’m directing it or helping produce it or occupying the screen. But there’s another thing going on. I got to a certain age and I could look back on all the work I’ve done that I never thought I would ever get done — I’ve managed to work for a long time and on an array of different things. But when I wanted access to it all those years ago, I wished I had access to people to help me, teach me how to get there faster, help me get the movies I wanted made. 

A friend gave me [Charlie Polinger’s script for The Plague] and said, “I think you’ll like this script.” I asked for another screenplay that he’d written. I recognized that there was this guy who was a really good writer and he’d made short films that were proof that he could execute his visions as a director. I realized I could help him get the movie made. I was like, “All right, I’ll go play this in these five scenes in the movie, help him get the financing, and also introduce him to people that can give him money.” I get to say I was there at the very beginning. Like how Michael Shannon was to Jeff Nichols, you know what I mean?

That makes me think about you playing Falstaff to Timothée Chalamet’s Henry V in The King a few years ago. At that point, he was just coming into his stardom. Did you get to play a kind of mentor figure there? 

The world had very quickly recognized Timmy’s brilliance, but not everyone. I remember [director] David Michôd having to educate. Some people would go, “He can audition along with everyone else,” and it’s like, “No, no, no. We just want him. If he’ll do it, we want him.” Cut to a few months later though, Timmy was busting at the seams. He was like a racehorse in the gates who’d already run a few races, but he was young and ready to soak up the world. To be honest, I don’t see a change in that. Hearing his speech at the SAG Awards this year, I was like, he’s still running on the same full tank. That’s the guy I knew. The only difference being that he’s now got a wealth of experience, and has proven himself time and time again to be excellent and intelligent as an actor.

Did you relate to that sentiment he shared at the SAG Awards, about pursuing greatness?

100 percent. Look, I guarantee this note of harmony rang out in the hearts of most actors who were watching, like, “I wish I had the guts to say that.” But to actually call out your own ambition without pride and say, “Look, I want to be great.” It was excellent. The Australian in me could see why people would be reluctant to talk like that — to think some things, but not be allowed to say them out loud culturally. But I love that he said it; it’s in line with who he is. And he’ll make it come true. I mean, he’s already made it come true, but I love that you see the ignition in him.

You’ve talked in the past pretty openly about projects you went out for and didn’t get cast in, like Bourne or Guardians of the Galaxy. Is there anything you’ve learned about yourself as an actor through rejection?

15, 20 years ago, I had a really nice conversation one time with Peter Weir, and he described casting in the most excellent way. He describes the role in the film as a crime that’s been committed, and finding the right actor to play it is about finding the person that committed the crime. He said that more than 90 percent of the time, you get the most likely suspect — but every now and then, someone will walk in the room who has blood on their hands. The exact person that should play this role, like The Rock playing Mark Kerr [in The Smashing Machine]. It just clicks. That changed the way I looked at rejection because he went on to say, “Sometimes I won’t choose the best actor. Sometimes it’s down to your physiognomy and all these aspects that are out of your control.” Whenever I talk to young actors about auditions, I’m like, “Don’t ever let a no kick your mojo. Fuck them. Just keep backing yourself and do what you know you can do, and at one point you will have blood on your hands.” 

Years ago, Michael Apted was making a movie [Amazing Grace] and he needed someone to play the youngest Prime Minister in the UK in England. I did two auditions for him, and then I didn’t get the job. It went to Benedict Cumberbatch. He was a young actor at the time too, and I was like, “Oh, Benedict actually went to the same school as the character grew up in, went through the private school system in the UK.” He had the blood on his hands. I was having to stretch myself to go to that place. Now, most of my career, I’ve spent trying to stretch myself into the skin of a character — John Connolly in Black Mass, Tom Buchanan in Gatsby, they’re fun, and that’s what I’ve always loved doing. But with Train Dreams, I could just turn up to work and open up my chest and let people know what I really feel about things.

With some of those bigger projects that didn’t go your way, so much goes into casting that’s well beyond even the director’s control, right?

And that was kind of disheartening — it’s maybe naive to not be aware of it, of understanding yourself as a commodity on the film stock exchange. You’re on this list or you’re on this slightly lower list and your value is this, and that becomes the next reason why you don’t get cast in something — instead of, “Did you do a good audition or not?” It’s just like: You don’t add up. You don’t bring the amount of money to a production that this other group of people could, so they’re going to pick this guy instead of you. And then one year you suddenly get bumped up on the next list, or one day you wake up and you realize you may have slipped to the list below you. It’s like a blood sport.

It’s a good argument for taking control of your own fate.

Yes. With Train Dreams, for example. I just had a gut instinct that Clint was going to make something more than special. We were about to shoot in the fall into the winter, and the strike told us we weren’t allowed to, so we had to kind of take our toys and go home. We hadn’t arrived for pre-production yet, but I was ready to fly to Spokane. Knowing we needed the seasonal change, we had to wait a whole six months. I had people coming at me with opportunities; I was like, “No, I’m keeping this sacred.” All the agencies and those people weren’t trying to talk me out of working with Clint, but they were like, “This is something you could do in the meantime.” I’m like, “I need to make sure that I am 100 percent ready for Clint and I’m going to bring my beard with me, so I’m not cutting it off.” I could see why people go, “Oh, that’s not necessarily going to be of any benefit to you, to go shoot a little movie out in the woods.” 

People tried to talk me out of going down to Australia to shoot Animal Kingdom. “There’s all this stuff going on in America!” I’m like, “Yeah, but it’s a buddy of mine and I think this is one of the best scripts I’ve ever read. I’m going to do it.” And then in the postmortem of it all, everyone’s, “I’m really glad I encouraged you to do that.” It’s like, “Fuck off.”

You directed your first feature, The Gift, after turning 40 — how would you describe your spark as a filmmaker?

I write stories about people who make mistakes and then work out how to correct the mistakes. I throw a guess at my Catholic upbringing as maybe one dimension of why that is. In Boy Erased, Nicole Kidman’s character is that for me — she makes a mistake of adhering to a religious ideology, her husband’s point of view on the situation, and spends the movie realizing that she can go her own way and pushing against all that. The Gift is the opposite: Jason Bateman’s character’s unwillingness to correct a mistake. I’m interested in human beings and the way they fall down and their relationship to good and bad. 

With Boy Erased, I’m thinking about what’s going on in the US right now, with the Supreme Court likely to usher in a new wave of gay conversion therapy— 

—It actually makes me want to do a new cut of Boy Erased.

How so? 

We’re thinking about it a lot and I’ve had a couple of conversations about it. We have so much footage that didn’t make it in the film, of the therapies and various characters. If we wanted to release the material in a different kind of way — not necessarily recut a film. Like we could do a six-part half-hour series. There’s so much more stuff that we shot. 

When I made The Plague, I was very much staring down the fear I have in 10 years time of how my son and my daughter will be in the world with other people. What side of the kindness-cruelty equation are they going to? At what point will they learn that they can hurt other people? At some point we realize we’re not going to live forever — we might have an accident or something, so we realize we’re mortal — but we also hit a moment where we see how we can affect other people.

I wanted to ask you about the rollout of Train Dreams. This film premiered at Sundance and is still gaining momentum some 10 months later. How do you feel about the way it’s been able to keep on, amid all the noise?

The movie’s so universal, and if people are patient enough to watch it or enough people tell them they should watch it, it’ll have an audience. I’d be the worst studio executive of all time because to me, it’s about the longevity of cinema for all time. One of my favorite stories in my life is Warrior, and I know that Lionsgate was probably annoyed at the time. It didn’t make any money. But now, more than any of my movies, when I’m at an airport traveling, people come up to me [for it] — that movie gets continually watched and passed around and is standing the test of time. If a movie holds up and lasts and continues to speak to people 10, 20, 30 years in the future, that’s the palette of movies that I want to look back on and go, “I was involved in that.” 

Whether they make money on opening weekend, unless some of that money’s going in my bank account, I really don’t care that much. (Laughs.) The sentiment is: I want as many people as possible to watch the movies that I do. If that’s in the first week, great. But if it’s over 15 years, then it’s almost more of a compliment to the movie than [the box office] just going bananas on the first weekend.

That’s been the talking point around One Battle After Another. There’s recent reporting on how it appears likely to lose money this year, but if you look at the reception — it’s built to last.

Does Bob What’s-His-Head in some Illinois small town really care what the budget of One Battle After Another is? No. He cares about, “Is it worth watching?” That movie, in my mind, is a success because it’s not based on some super IP. It’s a big drama that’s also funny, that’s dynamic — and that’s at the cinema. It was the number-one movie [at the box office] for how many weeks? I don’t know, but that’s a success in my mind. The fact that they spent some extra cash on it? [Shrugs] Again, I’d make a terrible studio executive.

Or maybe you wouldn’t! To your point, with a movie like that, 10 or 20 years down the line, it’s a different conversation. It’s an investment.

And it’ll be on all the lists of the great movies. That’s the kind of studio I’d want to run. Quality, not quantity. Success measured by the reception of a film, rather than the box office receipts. Of course with Train Dreams, we don’t have to wear the success or the failure of box office receipts because streamers don’t tally that stuff up or advertise it too much.

How do you feel about this being a Netflix movie? 

My answer to that would’ve been very different even 10 years ago. In 2022, we had The Stranger go to Cannes. I produced and acted in it. It sold to Netflix. I remember at the time going, “Ugh. Should we push for a little less money to go out to the cinemas?” That movie was number-one in a bunch of countries, and it was number-two in America for two or three weeks on the Netflix platform. I remember doing mental math and going, “That means millions, millions, millions more people saw The Stranger than they ever would have if we’d have rolled it out in theaters across America.” 

The other thing is accessibility. In one drop, everyone, or at least anyone with a TV and a Netflix account, could have access to the movie — whereas people are like, “Oh, I’d love to see this movie, but it’s a 200-mile drive for me.” It’s access and it’s bums on seats. And I think Train Dreams is so personal that if people are patient enough to watch it at home, it’s a good chance to kind of have a deep reflection and significant conversation with people you cherish sitting beside you or on your own. It’s different from sitting in a communal experience. And how long would it stay in the cinema? One to three weeks, if you’re lucky. 

The other day on a plane, I was forced to watch something on my phone. If the story’s good, it still works. Would I advise people to watch my movies on a phone? No. But if it’s that or nothing to it, and if the story works, it will still move them no matter what size the screen is. But yeah, I’m 51 years old. I still wish that the cinema was abundant, rich, alive, and loved by everyone.

Train Dreams will be released in select theaters on November 7, before streaming on Netflix starting November 21.