When directors Clint Bentley and Greg Kwedar tasked longtime collaborator Bryce Dessner with writing the score for Train Dreams, the story of an early 20th century logger watching the world change around him, it was only natural that Dessner go to the woods, too.
“I wanted to get away from my computer,” Dessner says. “A lot of film scoring is done in front of a picture. Often with scores you see for big movies like a Marvel film or something, there’s a lot of advanced technology. This was the opposite.”
For about a week, Dessner, a fan of the Denis Johnson novel on which the film is based, holed up at Flora Recording & Playback in Portland, Oregon, the same studio his band, The National, has worked out of. There, he recorded with no shortage of vintage gear, from upright pianos and harmoniums to old acoustic guitars and ribbon microphones, within its shiplap wood walls. Those old sounds were mixed with more contemporary synths, which helped capture Dessner’s score that, like the film, is often devastating, at times almost whimsical, but always beautiful.
“Clint had the idea that he wanted on some level for the music to reflect the time and place but also not necessarily be a period film,” says Dessner. “He was open to exploring more modern textures, too, which is what I ended up doing. There are a lot of analog sounds in the film to capture that feel, but then there are synthesizers and some processed electronics, too.”
When asked about the biggest challenge of writing the score, Dessner focuses on “the big sense of loss at the heart of this story.
“There’s a real beating heart to Robert Grainier’s character [Joel Edgerton], a lot of empathy for his losses. The music had to balance between reaching the depth of that without overwhelming the film,” he explains. “I had to find a tone that was between light and dark. It was a challenge to find those moments of levity and lightness and playfulness while also allowing the bigger things to bloom.”
Dessner threaded the needle well, reflecting the deep, wordless contemplation Grainier often displays on his face, as well as his warmth.
“The story is so deeply human, and it’s what we all experience at some point in our lives — love and loss,” Dessner adds of the Netflix movie. “What is the trajectory of a life as a series of memories, dreams or landscapes? The film is very poetic, and music accesses that in a really poetic way as well.”
Dessner also worked with Nick Cave to write the film’s eponymous theme song that plays during the end credits just after the film’s soaring, climactic finish. Citing Cave’s “literary” songwriting style, he says the rock musician was “at the top” of his and Bentley’s lists. Cave and Dessner collaborated remotely while Cave was touring, with Dessner sending music he’d written for the score and Cave, who Dessner says is also a fan of the novel, writing lyrics over the tracks.
“He’s someone who can put all these feelings into words — he does it so beautifully,” Dessner says, specifically lauding Cave’s lyric, “I can’t begin to tell you how this feels,” which he says nails the sentiment of the film. “The restraint of the film — there’s not a huge amount of dialogue, there’s a lot of space for him to come in at the end, and he says a lot in those three or four minutes.”
Dessner describes Cave as a hero to both him and his band, calling the collaboration — the first time they’ve worked together — a career highlight. “He’s a really respectful and humble and elegant collaborator,” Dessner says of Cave. “He was very open. A lot of times good songs can just happen. Sometimes it takes eight months to make a great thing, sometimes it’s overnight. This one happened pretty quickly.”
This story first appeared in a November stand-alone issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.
