On Demand Weekly

On Demand Weekly provides new movie reviews of hot movies on demand and from the POV of watching from the comfort of your home. Today’s review: MAN ON THE TRAIN (Tribeca Film).

MAN ON THE TRAIN
By Chris Claro

In the opening scene of Mary McGuckian’s MAN ON THE TRAIN, a steely-eyed loner steps into a pharmacy in search of pills for a migraine. When the pharmacist denies him the medicine, a gregarious older customer is only too happy to share his pain relievers with the stranger. Undaunted by the younger man’s taciturn reserve and mildly threatening demeanor, the older man invites him back to his house for water to wash down the pills.

So begins one of the most surprising and affecting films of the year, an exploration of two solitary lives and the ways in which they converge. With an understated grace, McGuckian offers a character study of a thief and a professor – each character is nameless – and the impact each has on the other. Slight of story but richly textured, MAN ON THE TRAIN is a mood piece, one that stealthily doles out its characters’ revelations at a deliberate, unhurried pace.

In his first acting role, U2 drummer Larry Mullen, Jr. is the eponymous railroader, rolling into town to set up a bank job with his mates. Mullen is tough to read as an actor; it’s hard to tell whether his quiet, buttoned-up portrait of the solitary thief is based on acting skills or lack thereof. Either way, he acquits himself and does justice to the character as he slowly reveals the layers beneath his reticent deportment.

And then there’s Donald Sutherland. For over fifty years, Sutherland has brought his enigmatic persona to films both great – ORDINARY PEOPLE, DON’T LOOK NOW – and not so – S*P*Y*S, SPACE COWBOYS – etching characters that are often inscrutable and off-putting. But in MAN ON THE TRAIN, Sutherland makes use of his physical stature and booming basso to imbue the professor with a verbose joviality that belies his profound loneliness. Living alone in a shambling old house that seems populated by the spirits of generations past, the sociable academic is thrilled at the idea of having a houseguest, criminal or not. With his piano, his conservatory, and his four empty bedrooms, the professor rattles about the house, tending to his guest’s needs with the enthusiasm of a man welcoming family for a holiday visit.