The Station Agent

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Along the side of the B-line tracks in tiny Newfoundland, New Jersey sits a minor, almost invisible fragment of railroad history. A weather-beaten orphan of the past, when the world traveled by rail, an exhausted railway station waits to welcome the newest in it’s long line of occupants, Finbar McBride.

The Station Agent, a film written and directed by Tom McCarthy, is the story of a man who’s significance can’t be quantified in inches proving that stature is best measured as the resiliency of the human heart. Fin (Peter Dinklage), born with achondroplasia a form of dwarfism, has recently inherited the old railway station. This is the perfect place for him to hide and to live his life without the towering regard and humiliation the world heaps on top of those who don’t ... measure-up. What happens is quite the opposite.

Having lived in the city most of his life, Fin has actually done quite well at hiding in the midst of the masses. At one point, as he walks down the street, a young boy points, laughs and yells out “Hey, where’s Snow White?” Fin walks on, seemingly oblivious to the remark, the walls are so high that it’s not his hearing that’s barricaded but his heart. Now, at the station, in this microcosmic environment he is unexpectedly confronted with the involvement he so sought to hide from. Joe Orams ( Bobby Cannavale) sells hot-dogs and coffee from a nearby stand and just wants conversation with someone besides the local red-neck yokels. As unrelenting as a dog with a ball, Joe romps, uninvited, uninhibited and charmingly into Fin’s privacy, bringing the one thing that Fin seems never to have had, fun. Olivia Harris ( Patricia Clarkson) who almost runs the modestly sized main character over, twice in the same day, establishes the hinge that finally allows Fin to come to grips with his own internal agony. It’s difficult to feel sorry for yourself when you are helping someone else that you care for.

This film is a wonder of minimalist dialogue, yet it garnered the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award for Best Script at Sundance. I sat in my seat the entire eighty-minutes and watched the actors act, not dialogue each other to death. This is vitally refreshing and recalls the point that they’re “motion pictures”, pictures with sound and not the other way around. I become easily bored with the overbearing, slice-of-life, dialogue thrashed, verbiage trashed (like this rant) pieces. Not here. The skillful work of Dinklage, drew me inside of the Finnerby Nolton character. I winced when the lady in the store retrieved a camera and stole an intrusive picture of the “cute little-man.” Not from shame, but for that feeling. You know, that “feeling” as a new kid, in a new school, walking into a new class. The dreadful experience that the attention you’re receiving is harshly curious, unkind and unwanted. Numerous other scenes exemplify the difficulty of life in the small lane and most of them came without words, just subtle actions and marvelous acting.

A second award was snapped up as well, and it’s easy to see why as this film stokes your heart with feelings seldom or never felt, makes you cry a little, makes you laugh a little and then makes you feel like things will work out just fine. For all of this the Station Agent captured the coveted Sundance Audience Award. Any time is a good time to see a film like this one, but the upcoming season is an absolutely perfect time to add this gem to your holiday movie stocking.