Cult Review
Archivist John
Senior Editor

El tren - La pastora que supo amar is only worth watching if you are a completionist of 1920s Spanish cinema or have a specific fascination with how early films portrayed the industrial revolution. For the casual viewer, it is a tedious experience. The film is structurally rigid, the acting is often painfully theatrical, and the story offers zero surprises. It lacks the kinetic energy found in American or Soviet films of the same year, like The Spy, and instead settles for a slow-motion morality tale that feels dated even by 1927 standards.
If you enjoy fast-paced narratives or subtle character work, stay away. This is for the patient researcher who doesn't mind watching a plot move at the speed of a horse-drawn cart while pretending to be as fast as a locomotive.
This film works because:
The location shooting in the Spanish highlands provides a raw, unpolished look at rural life that studio sets could never replicate.
This film fails because:
The pacing is glacial and the central conflict between 'pure' country life and 'corrupt' technology is handled with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
You should watch it if:
You are studying the history of Spanish melodrama or want to see how early directors struggled to integrate heavy machinery into romantic plots.
Manuel Noriega’s direction in El tren is functional but uninspired. The film attempts to create a grand drama out of the simple arrival of a train line, but it never manages to make the human stakes feel as heavy as the iron rails. Lina Moreno, playing the shepherdess, spends a significant portion of the film looking startled or gazing wistfully at the horizon. Her performance is a collection of silent film clichés—wide eyes, clutching the chest, and sudden swoons. It lacks the internal life that makes performers from the same era, like those in Innocence, still feel human today.
The train itself is the most interesting character, which is a problem for a movie that wants you to care about a romance. The way Noriega captures the steam and the scale of the locomotive suggests a director who was more impressed by the machine than the actors. There is one specific shot where the train emerges from a tunnel, cutting through the silence of the valley, that almost feels modern. But then we cut back to a static, long-winded conversation between characters who move like they are underwater.
The film pushes a very specific, very tired agenda: the countryside is the seat of all virtue, and anything from the city—including the people who build railroads—is a threat to the soul. This wasn't a new idea in 1927, and El tren doesn't add anything fresh to the conversation. It feels like a lecture. When the engineer enters the frame, he is dressed in sharp, modern clothing that looks ridiculous against the craggy rocks of the sheep pastures. The visual contrast is intentional, but it’s so heavy-handed that it becomes comical.
There is a strange lack of secondary characters with any depth. The supporting cast, including José Montenegro and Javier de Rivera, mostly exist to nod in agreement or scowl at the passing train. Unlike more dynamic silent comedies like The Crackerjack, there is no levity here. It is a self-serious film that doesn't have the narrative weight to support its own gravity.
Pros:
Cons:
El tren - La pastora que supo amar is a stiff relic. It captures a moment in Spanish history where the old world was terrified of the new, but it does so without any real flair or insight. The shepherdess is a trope, the engineer is a plot device, and the train is a prop. While it’s not as painfully dull as some archival finds, it’s far from being a hidden gem. Watch it for the scenery, but keep your expectations for the drama at ground level.

IMDb —
1928
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