The River Train Review [MIFF 2026]

Explosion Network may receive a commission when you purchase something via a link on our site

In the countryside, nine-year-old Milo seems stuck in an endless loop of responsibilities: washing dishes, helping to cook family dinners and, most significantly, training with his father to perfect malambo: a traditional Argentinian gaucho folk dance. One day, he catches a glimpse of a boy on TV raving about finding fame in Buenos Aires. This sparks a flame in Milo, who decides to escape his provincial existence by way of a city-bound train. But Milo quickly discovers that the journey and the destination are so much more than he could have ever imagined.

Directors: Lucas A. Vignale, Lorenzo Ferro

Writers: Lorenzo Ferro, Lucas A. Vignale

Fabián Casas, Diego Puente, Milo Barría, Lucrecia Pazos, Mariano Barría, Rita Pauls, Mailén Barría, Pehuén Pedre

Cinematographer: Thomas Grinberg

Editing: Andrés Medina, Lucas A. Vignale

Music: Oniria

Distributed by: N/A

Release Date: N/A

Platform: MIFF 2026

Cinematography here from Thomas Grinberg is sensational as it squares Milo up in a realistic representation of his world.

We all dream of and want to explore things we deem the answers to all our life’s questions. To seek adventure and a bigger life is normal for a child. The River Train is a couple of days in which a child, Milo, runs away to seek adventure in the big city. What the film is about, other than a rather neutral 72-hour journey with Milo, might leave some viewers looking for more, but it’s hard to build a narrative with deeper understanding when the lead doesn’t understand it all either.

Milo is a 9-year-old Malambo dancer. In the opening moments of The River Train, he is very good. Not that you’d be able to tell from the way his father drills him both before and after his performance at the start of the film. He’s drilled to act, not think, before, and that night, made to get out of bed for one more practice session. There is no rest here.

His home life is portrayed as a dull affair. The most thrilled he ever looks is when he’s watching an evening drama in which a character tells his mother he’ll move to the city to follow his dreams.

There’s no moment in The River Train in which you’ll ever feel like you’ll understand the decision or thought-path of Milo. He moves, and I understood it all to be a simple desire of the most human nature: I want more than this small town and this family.

Milo’s journey brings him face to face with a big city and a life he’s not yet ready for. The harsh realities of food and a bed. He meets an odd pair of characters in a hostel who suggest trying to earn a place in a play that’s hiring a part; Milo’s intrigue with the director of the play sends him into the most intriguing and thought-provoking chapter of the film.

The cinematography here from Thomas Grinberg is sensational as it squares Milo up in a realistic representation of his world. Close-ups square him off in his home; the wider world of the train ride excites at a larger scale. The camera is often felt closer to the ground, at his level, as he makes his way around the city.