Joel Edgerton improvised some of ‘Train Dreams’ best scenes: “If you followed a script, you’d never get these moments”

As soon as Joel Edgerton finished reading Train Dreams—an award-winning 2011 novella by Denis Johnson—he inquired about the movie rights.

“I was toying with the idea of adapting it,” the Australian actor and filmmaker told Decider in a recent phone interview. “The rights were taken, and I have to say, looking back, I’m so happy that they were taken.”

Five years later, Edgerton got a call from director Clint Bentley about the film adaptation of Train Dreams—co-written by Bentley and his creative partner Greg Kwedar, both fresh off an Oscar-nomination for Sing Sing—which released on Netflix today. Bentley wanted Edgerton to star as Robert Grainier, a taciturn logger working on the railroad in the American West in the 1920s. Despite his quiet nature, he finds love (Felicity Jones) and starts a beautiful, simple life with her. Then tragedy strikes.

For Edgerton, those five years between reading the novella and getting the call from Bentley made a world of difference. “Now, I was a dad of toddlers,” Edgerton said. “Thinking about the middle of the film and what Robert goes through, is suddenly like, ‘Do I want to put my greatest fear on screen?’”

The deep, personal connection Edgerton felt to Robert shines through in every frame of his performance, which has been universally lauded by critics. Best Actor Oscar buzz is brewing, though Edgerton would prefer not to talk about that. The 51-year-old actor spoke to Decider about embodying Robert Grainier, improvising with a toddler, and what an Academy Award would mean to him.

DECIDER: I read that you initially inquired about the rights to this novella years ago. At that time, were you thinking of playing Robert, or were approaching the story as more of a director/producer?

JOEL EDGERTON: It was a bit of both. I thought that it was a good potential thing for me to be in. I was toying with the idea of adapting it. The rights were taken, and I have to say, looking back, I’m so happy that they were taken. Because when Clint [Bentley, director and co-writer] finally reached out to me, about four or five years later, I was so much more connected to the character. Simply because now, I was a dad of toddlers. Thinking about the middle of the film and what Robert goes through, is suddenly like, “Do I want to put my greatest fear on screen?” It was going to be so much more of a personal journey for me.

Tell me about working with Clint Bentley. What stood out to you, as a director yourself, about his process?

There’s something really extraordinary about Clint’s approach. [He is] a director that is great at trusting the people they’re working with. Not trusting me as an actor, but trusting his cinematographer to have freedom, trusting his heads of department to do their best work, and not hover over everybody too much. The one thing about the approach to the shooting, which I found quite extraordinary, is there was a looseness to it. That often equates to a director just shooting as much as they can and going, “I’ll work this out in the edit room.”

But Clint’s approach is that it was freeing and very loose, but it was very intentional. Every scene felt planned for the right reason, whether it was emotional, psychological, or philosophical—an intention for why he wanted to shoot it a particular way. But within that, there was the freedom. As a director, he was very similar to the character of Robert—very trustworthy, kind, generous. I could see why he saw the character, Robert, as someone he wanted too make a film about.

I feel that intentional looseness in that middle part of the film you’re talking about when we see Robert with his wife, played by Felicity Jones, and their young, onscreen daughter, just living life. How much of that was scripted?

The scenes with Katie were extraordinary. I’ll give you one good example: There’s a scene that was scripted where I’m supposed to say goodbye to Katie, and I pop my head around the corner and she’s laughing. When we tried to do that, she just didn’t want to be in the cabin. She’s a two-and-a-half-year old kid. I started doing this magic trick with the flower. She was engaged in that for a while, and then she walked away.

The moment was meant to be about a parent’s sadness about a child not knowing… What I want is for you to be like, “Dad, I’m gonna miss you!” But, of course, the child’s just like, “I want to go over there and play with a stick.” The fact that she was disinterested in the magic trick then became a moment for Felicity and I to say goodbye to each other, and allow me to feel that sadness. Clint had this shoot ability to say, “Forget the script, this scene is about a farewell. Let’s see what happens.”

We got to play. Adolpho [Veloso] is an the incredible cinematographer. Every now we were like, “All right, let’s let the chickens free in the yard, and let’s say what happens.” We would never have moments like Katie throwing the pot in the water. Or—at one point, she hands me dried animal poop, and says that she found an egg. It made me laugh. If you followed a script, you’d never get these moments. We were free and nimble.

Can you tell me about filming that scene where Robert is running through the fire, looking for his family? I read that a lot that fire was real.

We shot in an area that had been swept through with a fire. We had the fire department there, we were doing controlled burns on trees that had already been burned, and [had] a big wall of flame. We had to be strategic about where we could and couldn’t move. I had people looking after me. I really embrace the physical aspects of a shoot like that. Obviously, I don’t want to get injured. For me, the greater challenge is these moments when Robert was able to—despite himself—show emotion for the loss that he’s experienced. That becomes a different kind of challenge and prospect.

I have to let you go, but my last question for you—not to jinx it, but this performance deserves an Oscar, in my mind. What would a Best Actor nomination mean to you?

Oh, god. I would obviously be… [Edgerton looks outside his window] Here comes the leaf-blower man, saving me from this question! [Laughs.] The love for the performance is very special to me, because I care about my work so much. Particularly, for a small-budget film that has such a big, beating heart to it, to find its way into people’s imaginations, to have people appreciate the film—this is a real reminder to us that films about human experience really do mean something to us. Any of that attention on Train Dreams means a lot to us. I hope that any film I make, the result is good. But the process [on this film] was so special. To have both of those happen in unison is quite rare. This is one of those.