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Cult Review
Archivist John
Senior Editor
Is 'El tren' worth watching today? Short answer: yes, but with significant caveats. This is a film that demands patience and a particular appreciation for character-driven, atmospheric storytelling, making it a compelling, if occasionally frustrating, experience for cinephiles.
It's a journey best suited for those who relish slow-burn dramas and intricate psychological studies, rather than viewers seeking fast-paced plots or clear-cut resolutions. If you prefer your narratives to unfold like a meticulously observed tableau, 'El tren' might just be your next discovery. If you find yourself frequently checking your watch during contemplative cinema, however, this might not be the ride for you.
Leopoldo Alonso’s 'El tren' is not merely a film; it is an experience, a voyage through the human condition confined within the rhythmic confines of a locomotive. From its initial frames, the film establishes a tone of quiet introspection, hinting at the profound stories simmering beneath the surface of its diverse cast of characters. It’s a work that eschews conventional plot mechanics for a more observational style, allowing the audience to become fellow passengers, privy to the subtle shifts in emotion and circumstance.
The film’s brilliance lies in its ability to transform a simple journey into a metaphor for life itself – full of unexpected detours, fleeting connections, and the inescapable march towards an unknown destination. It’s a testament to Alonso’s directorial vision that he manages to imbue the confined spaces of the train with such expansive emotional depth.
However, this very strength also contributes to its weaknesses. The deliberate pacing, while essential to its artistic intent, can test the endurance of even the most dedicated viewers. There are moments where the narrative momentum feels less like a slow burn and more like a gentle simmer that never quite reaches a rolling boil, leaving some character arcs feeling underdeveloped or unresolved.
Alonso, along with writer Leopoldo Alonso, crafts a narrative that, on the surface, appears straightforward: a group of individuals embarks on a train journey. Yet, the true plot of 'El tren' resides not in external events, but in the internal landscapes of its passengers. We are introduced to Carmen Rico's character, a woman whose quiet demeanor belies a deep-seated determination, her gaze often fixed on the passing scenery as if searching for answers in the blur.
Her journey intertwines with that of Carmen Viance, whose vivaciousness often masks a vulnerability, and Lina Moreno, whose quiet despair hints at a past she’s desperately trying to outrun. The genius of the script is in these subtle interactions, the stolen glances, the overheard conversations, and the unspoken tensions that gradually build within the carriage. It's a testament to the writers' skill that they manage to create such rich backstories without resorting to heavy exposition.
The film's structure is episodic, almost like a series of short stories unfolding concurrently within the same moving vessel. This approach allows for a panoramic view of human experience, showcasing how vastly different lives can momentarily converge. A particularly poignant moment involves a shared meal in the dining car, where class distinctions momentarily dissolve, only to re-emerge with the clinking of porcelain and the exchange of polite, yet guarded, conversation. It’s a subtle commentary on societal barriers, even in a shared space.
However, this structural choice, while artistically valid, sometimes leaves the audience yearning for more. Some characters, like the enigmatic José Montenegro, are given tantalizing introductions but then recede into the background, their potential for deeper exploration left unfulfilled. This can lead to a sense of narrative fragmentation, where the sum of the parts doesn't always coalesce into a fully satisfying whole. The film feels less like a cohesive novel and more like a collection of beautifully written poems.
The ensemble cast of 'El tren' is undeniably its beating heart, and their performances largely elevate the material, even when the script occasionally falters. Carmen Rico delivers a masterclass in understated acting. Her portrayal of quiet strength and internal conflict is utterly captivating. She communicates volumes with a mere glance or a subtle shift in posture, making her character the film's undeniable emotional anchor. Her scene where she stares out the window, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek, is more powerful than pages of dialogue could ever be.
Carmen Viance provides a much-needed spark, her character’s effervescence a counterpoint to the more somber tones. While occasionally bordering on caricature, Viance manages to infuse her role with enough genuine pathos to make her struggles feel real. Her boisterous laughter, initially a source of irritation for other passengers, gradually becomes a symbol of resilience.
Lina Moreno, on the other hand, embodies a quiet tragedy. Her performance is subtle, heartbreaking, and deeply affecting. The weight of her character’s past is palpable in every weary sigh and every averted gaze. It's a raw, vulnerable depiction that resonates long after the credits roll.
The supporting cast, including Carlos Verger, José Puig, Celia Escudero, and Javier de Rivera, all contribute solid, believable portrayals, fleshing out the microcosm of the train. José Montenegro, in particular, despite limited screen time, leaves a lasting impression. His stoic, observant presence is a powerful force, suggesting a hidden depth that hints at vast, untold stories. It’s a performance that makes you wish for a spin-off film dedicated entirely to his character.
Yet, the sheer number of characters means that some are inevitably short-changed. While the ensemble approach is admirable, a few performances feel more like sketches than fully realized portraits. This isn’t necessarily a flaw of the actors themselves, but rather a consequence of the film’s sprawling ambition trying to fit too many compelling stories into a single journey.
Cinematographer Javier de Rivera’s work in 'El tren' is nothing short of exquisite. The visual language of the film is as integral to its storytelling as the dialogue. He masterfully uses the train’s windows as frames, capturing the fleeting beauty of the Spanish countryside – sun-drenched plains, rugged mountains, and distant villages – creating a stark contrast with the confined, often tense, interiors. The play of light and shadow within the compartments, particularly during the twilight hours, is breathtaking, enhancing the mood of intimacy and introspection.
One particularly striking shot involves a slow pan across the faces of sleeping passengers, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon and the occasional flicker of a passing light. It’s a moment that speaks volumes about shared humanity in vulnerability, a visual echo of Pilgrims of the Night’s similar exploration of nocturnal journeys, but with a uniquely Spanish melancholy. The sense of movement, even when the camera is static within the carriage, is palpable, a constant reminder of the journey’s relentless progression.The sound design is equally impressive. The omnipresent, rhythmic chugging of the train is not just background noise; it's a character in itself, a constant pulse that underscores the narrative. The screech of brakes, the whistle blowing in the distance, the muffled conversations from other compartments – all contribute to an immersive auditory experience. It’s a subtle yet powerful use of sound, avoiding the bombastic for the atmospheric, much like the understated score that blends traditional Spanish melodies with minimalist arrangements.
However, there are moments where the visual poetry, while beautiful, feels slightly detached from the emotional core. While every frame is meticulously composed, some sequences lean so heavily on aestheticism that they risk alienating viewers who crave a more direct emotional connection. It’s a delicate balance, and 'El tren' occasionally tips too far into the realm of pure art, losing some of its accessibility.
Pacing and Tone: A Slow Burn
The pacing of 'El tren' is deliberately, almost defiantly, slow. This is a film that takes its time, allowing moments to breathe, characters to reveal themselves gradually, and emotions to simmer rather than explode. This measured approach contributes significantly to the film’s contemplative and melancholic tone. It’s a quiet film, one that encourages reflection and observation, much like the journey itself.
The tone oscillates between hope and despair, connection and isolation, often within the same scene. There’s a pervasive sense of yearning, a longing for something just out of reach, mirrored by the endless horizon outside the train windows. This creates a rich, complex emotional landscape that is both beautiful and, at times, profoundly sad. It reminds me of the contemplative nature of Champagne caprice, but with a more grounded, almost gritty, realism.
My unconventional observation: the film’s greatest strength, its unhurried pace, is also its most significant barrier to broader appeal. In an era of instant gratification, 'El tren' asks its audience to slow down, to truly inhabit the space and time it creates. This is a commendable artistic choice, but it requires a specific kind of engagement that not every viewer is willing or able to give. It works. But it’s flawed. The slow pace, while often rewarding, occasionally feels like an indulgence rather than a necessity, particularly in the film's second act, where certain narrative strands feel stretched thin.
The film’s quietude, while initially captivating, can sometimes lead to a feeling of narrative inertia. While the lack of a clear antagonist or a driving external conflict is a deliberate artistic choice, it can leave some viewers feeling adrift, longing for a more tangible anchor in the story. It doesn't always earn its slowness, which is a critical distinction.
Is this film worth watching?
Yes, 'El tren' is absolutely worth watching for those who appreciate a certain style of cinema. It's a powerful character study. It offers a unique perspective on human connection. The cinematography is stunning. The performances are often brilliant. But be prepared for a slow pace. It's not for everyone. If you enjoy films like Sahara for its epic scope, you might find 'El tren' too intimate and understated. However, if you enjoyed the introspective journey of films like Lord Saviles brott, you'll likely find much to admire here.
Key Takeaways
- Best for: Viewers who appreciate slow-burn psychological dramas, character studies, and films with a strong atmospheric presence.
- Not for: Audiences seeking fast-paced plots, clear resolutions, or conventional genre thrills.
- Standout element: Carmen Rico’s nuanced performance and Javier de Rivera’s breathtaking cinematography, which together create a powerful sense of place and internal turmoil.
- Biggest flaw: The occasionally meandering pace and the tendency to introduce compelling character arcs that are then left frustratingly undeveloped.
Pros and Cons
Pros:
- Exceptional Cinematography: Every frame is a work of art, beautifully capturing both the vastness of the exterior landscape and the intimacy of the train’s interior.
- Strong Lead Performance: Carmen Rico delivers a compelling and deeply felt portrayal that grounds the entire film.
- Rich Atmosphere: The film successfully immerses the viewer in the unique environment of a long train journey, using sound and visuals to great effect.
- Thought-Provoking Themes: Explores complex themes of destiny, connection, isolation, and the search for identity with sensitivity.
- Authentic Ensemble: Despite some unevenness, the cast collectively creates a believable microcosm of society on rails.
Cons:
- Pacing Issues: The deliberate slowness can, at times, feel stagnant, testing the patience of even dedicated viewers.
- Unresolved Arcs: Several intriguing character stories are introduced but not fully explored or concluded, leading to a sense of incompleteness.
- Lack of Traditional Plot: Those expecting a clear narrative drive or conventional conflict resolution may find the film frustratingly abstract.
- Limited Accessibility: Its art-house sensibilities might alienate a broader audience accustomed to more mainstream storytelling.
- Emotional Detachment: While visually stunning, some scenes prioritize aesthetic beauty over immediate emotional impact, creating a slight distance.
Verdict
'El tren' is a film that lingers, much like the fading sound of a distant whistle. It is undeniably a work of art, a testament to Leopoldo Alonso’s vision and the dedicated performances of its cast, particularly Carmen Rico. Its strengths lie in its profound atmospheric qualities, its stunning visual compositions, and its brave commitment to a contemplative, character-driven narrative. It’s a film that asks you to observe, to feel, and to reflect, rather than merely consume.
However, its deliberate pace and fragmented storytelling will not appeal to everyone. This is not a film to watch if you’re looking for escapism or a straightforward plot. It is, instead, an invitation to a deeper, more challenging engagement with cinema. For those willing to embark on its slow, winding journey, 'El tren' offers rich rewards – moments of profound beauty, unsettling truths, and a resonant exploration of the human spirit in transit.
Ultimately, 'El tren' is a flawed masterpiece, a film that dares to be different, and for that alone, it commands respect. It's a journey worth taking, provided you're prepared for the occasional delays and the sometimes ambiguous destinations. It earns its place as a significant, albeit niche, piece of Spanish cinema. Go watch it, but adjust your expectations. This isn't a thrill ride; it's a meditation.
IMDb 3
1928
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