Film Review: Brief Encounter (1945)

Some films shout. Brief Encounter whispers; and that’s what makes it unforgettable.

David Lean’s 1945 classic is one of the most emotionally resonant love stories ever committed to film, not because of what’s said, but because of what isn’t. Adapted from Noël Coward’s short play Still Life, it tells the story of two ordinary people: Laura (Celia Johnson) and Alec (Trevor Howard), who meet by chance at a railway station and fall deeply, devastatingly in love.

But they’re both married. And this isn’t a film about grand romantic gestures or forbidden affairs in the Hollywood sense. It’s about restraint, duty, and the quiet agony of falling in love when you least expect it — and knowing it can never last.

Celia Johnson’s performance is breathtaking in its subtlety. Every flicker of her eyes, every catch in her voice, carries the weight of suppressed desire and unbearable heartache. Her narration, spoken as if confiding in the silence of her own mind, adds an intimacy that makes the viewer feel like they’ve been allowed into her most private thoughts.

One line in particular lingers long after the credits roll:

“This can’t last. This misery can’t last. I must remember that and try to live through it.”

It’s a quiet, heartbreaking plea, and the essence of what Brief Encounter captures so well: the emotional cost of doing the right thing.

The visuals are stark and beautiful. Trains clatter in the background like restless hearts. Shadows stretch across café walls like secrets. And through it all, Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto swells and recedes, echoing every unspoken word.

Brief Encounter doesn’t just tell a story; it invites us to feel what it means to love with dignity, to lose something we never really had, and to carry on with quiet grace. It’s tender, sad, and utterly human.

For anyone who’s ever loved in silence or walked away from something that could have been everything, this film will speak directly to your soul.

His Girl Friday (1940) is an electrifying whirlwind of wit, charm, and rapid-fire repartee that hasn’t aged a day since its release. Directed by Howard Hawks and starring the dazzling duo of Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell, this screwball comedy is a masterclass in timing, chemistry, and sharp dialogue that keeps you grinning from start to finish.

Russell shines as Hildy Johnson, a fiercely intelligent and independent newspaper reporter who’s determined to leave journalism behind for a quieter life. But her ex-husband and editor, Walter Burns (played with roguish brilliance by Grant), has other plans. What follows is a madcap race against the clock filled with hijinks, political scandal, and romantic sparks flying in every direction.

What makes His Girl Friday so enduring is its breathless pace; the dialogue crackles like a live wire, often overlapping with delightful chaos, a testament to Hawks’ visionary direction. And at its heart is a surprisingly progressive portrayal of a woman navigating career, love, and autonomy at a time when such stories were rare.

One of the film’s standout lines, delivered by Russell with blazing confidence: “You wouldn’t know what to do with my kind of woman!” perfectly encapsulates Hildy’s strength and the film’s feminist edge. It’s a sharp rebuke and a declaration of self-worth, wrapped in the film’s signature wit.

Witty, subversive, and endlessly rewatchable, His Girl Friday is not just a golden-age gem; it’s a timeless celebration of sharp minds and sharper banter. A true cinematic treasure that still feels thrillingly modern.