(directed by David Lean, 1945)
Tonight, having a desire for something simple, I sat down with a glass of wine and some white chocolate and watched Brief Encounter. It’s only the second time I’ve seen it. And, oh goodness, it’s such a beautiful film. Shot on an austerity budget, predominantly in and around (the fictional) Milford Junction station, it doesn’t immediately strike you as having the ingredients for one of the great romances. The characters are as archaic and clipped as their accents, battling back the ungovernable forces of lust in defence of what is right and proper. Like The Remains of the Day, much of what’s important is in fact not spoken. And, like Casablanca, the conclusion has a bittersweet quality that lingers wistfully, long after the film finishes.