The Lumberjack: A Quiet Journey You Might Actually Need 🌲

Is “The Lumberjack” worth your time today? If you're into slow burns, really slow burns, about a single guy grappling with trees and... himself, maybe. It's definitely not for folks who need things to *happen* every five minutes. If watching a man spend a solid minute just sharpening an axe sounds like a snooze, then yeah, skip this one. But for those who appreciate a quiet, almost meditative look at solitude, Ben Clopton's turn here might just stick with you.

The film opens, and right away, you know what you're in for. Ben Clopton, as Elias, is just... there. In the woods. No big dramatic entrance, no sweeping score. Just the crunch of leaves and a distant axe blow. It's stark, almost unsettlingly quiet.

You watch him work. There’s a scene early on, maybe ten minutes in, where he's just *staring* at a tree. Not planning, not calculating, just looking. It goes on a bit. You start to wonder if the camera operator forgot to cut. But then, you get it. He's sizing it up, sure, but also maybe having a silent conversation with it. It’s a moment that feels long, but not necessarily bad.

Clopton carries this whole thing. And I mean the whole thing. His face, rugged and often grimy, tells most of the story. There are these subtle shifts, like when he finds a small, injured bird near his cabin. Just a flicker of something in his eyes – concern? regret? – then he's back to being Elias, the man who chops wood. It’s easy to miss if you're not paying attention.

The sound design, too, is a character. The *thwack* of the axe is deep, resonant. You feel it. And the silence, oh, the silence. It's not just an absence of noise; it's a presence. Like when he eats his simple supper by the fire, only the crackle of wood and the distant hoot of an owl. It made me think, "Man, this guy must get lonely." 🦉

There's a recurring shot of his cabin, nestled deep in the forest. It's not picturesque, more like a practical shelter. There’s a patch of muddy ground near the door that always seems to be there. Small detail, but it grounds him. Makes the place feel lived in.

The "plot," such as it is, unfolds slowly. There’s this vague sense that Elias is running from something, or maybe just running *to* the quiet. We never quite get the full story, and that's okay. The film trusts you to piece together the fragments from his quiet intensity.

One time, he almost drops his axe when he hears a distant sound, a car horn maybe, and the way he freezes, totally still, tells you more than any flashback ever could.

A lot of the film is just watching him *do* things. Sawing logs. Stacking wood. Even just walking through the forest. Some might call it boring. I get it. But there’s a certain hypnotic quality to it, a rhythm. You almost start to feel the chill in the air, the bite of the saw. It’s immersive, if you let it be.

There’s a strange little bit where Elias tries to fix a broken handle on his old shovel. He struggles with it for ages, muttering to himself. It doesn't really advance the story, but it shows his stubbornness, his self-reliance. It felt very real. You know, the kind of annoying chore that takes way too long.

The director (also Ben Clopton, actually) clearly had a vision for this. He lets scenes breathe, sometimes to a fault. There’s one shot of him just sitting on a fallen log, looking out at the trees. It’s beautiful, yes, but it stretches on. You start checking your watch, then you put it away because you realize that's *part* of it. It's meant to make you feel that expansive, unhurried time of the wilderness.

I kept thinking about a similar feeling I got from some old nature documentaries, not the flashy ones, but the ones where they just observe. It has that vibe. This movie is less about grand statements and more about just being.

What sticks with you is Clopton’s presence. He's not showy. He just *is*. The way he wipes sweat from his brow, the grim set of his jaw when he’s wrestling with a particularly thick branch. It’s all very understated. He's an actor who really understands how to use silence.

The ending doesn't wrap things up neatly. It just... ends. Elias is still there, still working, still in the woods. You don’t get a big resolution, just a sense of continuation. It leaves you with a quiet feeling, like you just spent a long afternoon watching someone else's life unfold, and then you quietly slipped away. Not everyone's cup of tea, but for some, it’ll be exactly what they needed.