Renowned novelist and screenwriter Kazuo Ishiguro has shared insights into his enthusiasm for a distinct but underappreciated film genre: movies set predominantly on trains. In a curated film season titled "Station to Station" at BFI Southbank in London, Ishiguro assembled a selection focused exclusively on works whose narratives unfold almost entirely aboard trains, emphasizing the unique storytelling opportunities these settings provide.

Ishiguro distinguishes true train films from those featuring trains only briefly or incidentally. For instance, Alfred Hitchcock’s *Strangers on a Train* (1951) is excluded despite its title, as the train environment is confined to the film’s opening scenes, and the story largely revolves around other themes. Similarly, *The Train* (1964), despite action aboard a locomotive, does not fully qualify as a train film by Ishiguro’s criteria since much of the plot extends beyond the train itself.

For the author, trains serve as ideal narrative spaces due to their architectural layout and social dynamics. Compartments and corridors naturally create microenvironments for a range of concurrent mini-dramas that can intertwine as passengers share the same confined space. This structure facilitates encounters among diverse characters, often from different backgrounds or nationalities, who come into close, sometimes tense contact as they travel together. Ishiguro points out that trains, especially in earlier eras, functioned as neutral ground, fostering a sense of courteous interaction and romantic possibility.

Ishiguro also speaks to the cinematic advantages trains offer. The constantly changing landscape visible through windows, the rhythmic sound of the moving carriages, and the variable lighting conditions allow directors to experiment visually. He highlights a scene from *Shanghai Express* (1932) where shifting shadows dramatically illuminate Marlene Dietrich’s face, exemplifying how light and movement can enhance atmosphere on screen. Similarly, confined spaces such as restaurant cars or sleeping compartments intensify interpersonal drama, given their inherent intimacy and claustrophobia.

The author contrasts train films favorably with those set on ships or airplanes, noting that the latter settings often lack dynamic external scenery or require contrived events like shipwrecks to introduce tension. Trains, in contrast, provide organic momentum and a sense of progression without the need for catastrophic disruption.

Ishiguro’s own literary work reflects this fascination. His forthcoming novel, *Miss Lambert Steps Aboard Danger*, scheduled for release in 2027, incorporates an extended sequence set on a train, using the setting to subtly shift mood and amplify metaphorical resonances.

While he admires many classic train films, Ishiguro also expressed disappointment in the 1972 horror film *Horror Express*, a recommendation he received from filmmakers Alfonso Cuarón and Guillermo del Toro. Despite featuring esteemed actors such as Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, he found the production lacked coherence and engagement.

Drawing on personal experience, Ishiguro recalls commuting by train from Guildford to London as a youth, emphasizing how compartmentalized carriages once fostered a sense of adventure and intimacy absent from modern open-plan trains. He cites the 2013 film *Snowpiercer* as a notable contemporary example that leverages a train’s confined setting to heighten conflict and social allegory.

Ultimately, Ishiguro suggests that train films resonate beyond their narratives, often serving as metaphors for life’s journey, social divisions, and human relationships. The train becomes a microcosm where disparate individuals intersect briefly before their collective journey concludes, reflecting themes of fate and transition inherent to the medium.