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Brief Encounter represents a kind of lyrical realism, a very British variation on the more earthly Italian or poetic French variants. David Lean, in his 4th collaboration with Uber-brit Noel Coward, brings an elegance and spareness that elevates this melodrama at every level. Lean was known as a gun editor and his eye is un-failing and clear in the choices he makes in Brief Encounter. It is a mark of a high degree of skill that he could make an intimate drama like this or This Happy Breed, again with Coward,and then go on to grand scale epics like Lawrence Of Arabia or Dr Zhivago and be equally as brilliant. Brief Encounter, though not a ‘war’ film, needs to be seen through the prism of a Britain drained by over 5 years of armed conflict, and even though it never makes any direct references to the struggle, the background tension it created is part of the fabric of the time and of the psychological drivers of the protagonists.

The simple set up is a chance meeting in a railway station, the impermanence of war-time amplified by having most of the action occur in this place of perpetual transience. Laura (Celia Johnson) has some grit in her eye and Alec (Trevor Howard), is a doctor who comes to her aid. Lean gives us this event through flashback, after it’s established the relationship is ending. Coward brilliantly has the tender parting scene ruined by a nosy acquintance of Laura’s who is of course blissfully oblivious to the interference, no amourous continental goodbye scene for these two. As Laura mentally unravels on the trip home, and in her evening chair with her husband we get the full import of the affair and of the emotional precipice on which she’s been for some time. Husband Fred (Cyril Raymond) is the straight-laced, dependable type, not exactly intuitive about his wife’s suffering, but not unsympathetic either, and he makes an attempt to comfort her while she’s churning through events and the choices she’s made.

The series of events that lead to the two falling in love are delicately played by the leads, a chance meeting, followed by a co-incidental lunch, followed by an innocent invitation to the ‘pictures’, all devoid of any level of sexual by-play. And yet this is the reason why the release of the build up of feeling is so powerful, small gestures have a world of meaning, and eyes and words are almost used as code, as lover’s lurch hopefully into the unspoken unknown. Of course much of the impact has been lost in the intervening 60 plus years to generations on this side of the sexual revolution of the 1960’s but to adults of the time so much was tacit, adding a level of poignancy to these exchanges. Of course these are the mores of the middle classes, and Coward contrasts their approach with the sub-plot of the station romance between a lower class couple, a guard Godby, played by the irrepressible Stanley Holloway, and the faux-prim cafe propietor Myrtle (Joyce Carey), which is delivered with earthy good humour.

Coward and Lean use music to underscore their points at every turn, both visual and linguistic, notably a Rachmaninoff piano concerto which is archly romantic and poignant when set against the life of quiet desperation that Laura is living. A tea room orchestra provides some light relief and the beautiful WW1 era love song "Let The Great Big World Keep Turning’ gets a quick run. The situations are handled deftly, as Laura reflects that ‘violent’ acts like falling in love shouldn’t happen to ordinary people like them. Guilt builds, as the lover’s confess their feelings for each other, and when her son has an accident and she’s not there to help she reads it as ‘punishment’ for her behaviour. The fantasy of a life together is a mere daydream reflected in the train window, the reality is the lie reflected in Laura’s mirror as she deceives her husband for the first time.

Laura and Alec get more deeply entwined, all the while aware that convention and society are not on their side, and that to cast off their respective families and throw in their lot together would be a decision on a seismic scale, in 1945 it’s just not done. The war may have created a background of living with an uncertain future, and of making accomodations that would not otherwise have been appropriate, and this has let Laura and Alec be bolder than they may otherwise have been in progressing the affair, to in effect be different people for a time. The realisation dawns with both that the love they share cannot survive, a seperate future must be found, The film is ultimately about people doing their duty, just as the soldiers had done for their country in time of war, people had a duty to society to conform to it’s conventions, and without those conventions anarchy prevails. Laura comes back to Fred, from a place he thinks of as ‘very far away’, but in fact closer than he realised, a place in her own heart that could not be known to him. The idea of personal self sacrifice may be a quaint one now, with 21st century instant gratification everywhere, but it is at the core of this beautiful and delicate film.

A lot of people think of Brief Encounter as a comment on stuffy middle-class suburban culture and its restrained attitudes towards love, and while I’d be a complete douche not to see this, I think that such a narrow view takes away from what is actually a touching story about 2 people who fall in love and have to make the difficult choice of whether or not to stay with their respective spouses.

I think the film was quite controversial for it’s time as it dealt not only with the taboo subject of extramarital affairs but did so from a woman’s perspective. On top of this both the main characters, Laura Jesson and Alec Harvey, are middle-aged. Indeed, there’s an interesting contrast between their measured response to attraction (which occasionally spills over into something more passionate) and that of the young couple who both work at the train station and can be seen, carefree and frolicking around, in a scene near the end of the film. The fact that Laura and Alec mostly meet at a train station also adds further poignancy to their doomed affair as it suggests impermanence and anonymity.

Both Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard are fantastic in their lead roles but it’s Johnson who really shines as the film’s protagonist. Laura is simultaneously reserved and impulsive, and we’re left with the constant feeling that she could do something drastic at any minute (demonstrated by her almost throwing herself in front of a train when Alec says his final goodbye). This sense of tension and struggle within her character keeps us guessing right up until the end as to whether she will actually leave her good-natured but dull husband, Fred, and is ultimately what makes the film so watchable.

Brief Encounter does, undoubtedly, throw up some interesting points about class and culture, but the reason it’s so powerful is because all that restraint and control is stripped away when Laura and Alec are together, liberated and happy in their love. They know it’s impossible and can’t last, but watching their relationship blossom and witnessing their mad moments of indecision we’re reminded of how fragile our morals and values really are in the face of something so powerful.

Well before Adrian Lyne’s morality tales about adultery came this David Lean non-epic that didn’t burst, early into the film, with sexual aggression. Rather, that subtle pain of nervous tension, between adults who are attracted to each other but who are not allowed to act on it, is brought to life in an age of innocence and rules.

Lean’s style is stylistic in subtle doses (we can neither forget the atmosphere of the train station, nor the tilting camera when suicide almost happens). It is a compact, Lean (pun intended) narrative that had to be, immediately upon completion, an eternal masterpiece.

The Criterion Collection DVD bears an excellent transfer; it must have coincided with the new print I saw at the American Film Institute National Theater in Washington. However, unlike most Criterion DVDs, there is very little in the nature of extras, other than a commentary track and a brief description of the restoration process. (That is to say, no documentary.)

This is what a great movie is! Simple story, simply and efficiently told, lean, quick. This is the kind of movie that makes a person rethink the claim that every story worth telling has been told and that a filmmaker must keep reaching farther and farther out into the abstract to create something original. Originality, whatever that means, does not necessarily ensure greatness. Sometimes its the familiar done by an exceptionally good director with two remarkable actors and a great script that can have a much more profound and powerful effect on the viewer. There is nothing really unfamiliar about the story of Brief Encounter. Certainly nothing most of us haven’t seen before. But Brief Encounter reminds me of something Roger Ebert once said about great movies: “It’s not what it’s about, but how it’s about…” The efficiency of David Lean’s telling of the story is something that demands consideration. There is not a wasteful or arbitrary shot in the movie. Some movies require a long running time, others don’t. I could easily see how a lesser filmmaker would have stretched this out. There is an interesting compression of language, dialogue, composition and camera movement. The dialogue is sparse but there is more said, or implied, during silent glances and so forth. There is no sense of the character overtalking a moment and underlining and highlighting themes. The shot at the begining that introduces the two lead characters is incredible in its simplicity as it dollys past two people in conversation at a bar to reveal the leads in a wide shot sitting at a table, silent. The movie is filled with moments like that. No need to use 5 different camera setups and cut between shots. One simple shot says all that needs to be said. Some artists can do in one brush stroke what it would take others ten to achieve the same effect. Brief Encounter happens to be an example of a film where all of the parts fit together so perfectly. No movie would necessarily be better or worse by using these same techniques but here they work. Every film has its own requirements or needs. The filmmakers here just found that perfect combination of a thousand different ingredient and made a great film.

I first saw Brief Encounter when I was very young – pre-teens probably. I remember being very moved by the story, I enjoyed the very Englishness of it and it’s rich characterization. I didn’t then see it again for many years and when I did I became quite disillusioned by it – thinking it trite, corny and frightfully dated. But over the years I realized that that probably had more to do with how cynical and hard hearted I was at the time (my early 20s)and have now renewed my love of it. Time has been kind to Brief Encounter and the things I felt were trite and corny, now seem poignant, beautiful and deeply moving. It IS very English but that is what makes it all the more wonderful. The depiction of doomed and unrequited love stifled by the repressive attitudes and stiff upper lips of a cold middle England (Coward’s homosexuality most certainly would have informed his writing) expertly conveyed by a mixture of restrained but intense acting, Noel Coward’s rich characterization, the flawless cinematography of Robert Krasker and the cinematic genius of David Lean. Celia Johnson’s performance is amazing and her voice-over is the best you will ever hear in any film ever Also her face is so cinematic (her eyes tell you all you need to know about how Laura is feeling – despite the voice-over!) that you just can’t take your eyes off her for a second. Her big close-up when she makes a mad, impulsive attempt at suicide gives me goose-bumps every time. Truly one of the greatest moments in cinema’s history

I love this film — it’s mood, it’s atmosphere, it’s brilliant lighting, and it’s sense of another time, which of course was the time in which it was shot. It has a dreamy sense to me, and part of the reason I like it is that it places you in a kind of domestic England that always strikes me as very homey in the best way. In short, this is a movie I would like to live in. I want to arrive on that train, chat with Trevor and live next door to Celia. So that’s one level on which I like it, and which doesn’t have all that much to do with how good it is. Here’s another reason: it’s a sad but very moving film about very conventional lives, and lives that won’t get any better. Celia, married to some useless fathead, wants to run off with Trevor, but she can’t. She has her children to consider, and her husband, and the whole prevailing code of morality in the 1940s that simply did not approve of adultery. The audience at the time sympathized with her for the same reason we do, because she’s stuck and that’s that — and this is also what makes the ending so very appealing to me, even if it does feel a bit forced. The husband knows he’s not the best mate in the world, but he knows he’s lucky to have Celia, even though he can’t possess her mind, in which she is free to dream of Trevor. She is sacrificing her own happiness for his, for the kids, for the social order. She’ll only be happy in her dreams.