the audience applauded

The movie turns out to be a little better than the average. Starting from a romantic formula often seen in the cinema, it ends in the most predictable (and somewhat bland) way.

This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.

Blistering performances.

Confusing in the first half hour and hard to understand this early British noir,however states as masterpiece for many but similarity with old mysteries movies from England,the young gangster baby face Pink Brown certainly should be a study process for so enigmatic and evil character,the Brighton gang are outdated guys,nevertheless Pink be afraid of them and kill each one in your turn,psychotic to extreme deserves all movie's credits, Attenborough has an stunning performance beyond that expected,the twist in the final comes to crown this magnificent noir!! Resume: First watch: 2017 / How many: 1 / Source: DVD / Rating: 8.5

It might be a commonplace critically to pronounce the first film version of Graham Greene's novel to be not as good as the source- text, but in this case we would be terribly wrong.John Boulting's film offers a dystopian world of mid-twentieth century Brighton: ostensibly set during the Thirties but applying as much to the time when the film was released. The resort's streets teem with people desperately trying to have a good time in the sunshine, sitting in deck-chairs, eating in shabby restaurants, enjoying rides in the Chamber of Horrors or eating candy-floss. Brief romances wither and flourish; older citizens find solace in the pub. No one, it seems, can think about the future; everything must be lived in the present, otherwise they might succumb to desperation.In this kind of environment it's hardly surprising that Pinkie (Richard Attenborough) and his gang should thrive. They can offer 'protection' from the chaos - at a price, of course - and should their victims be unable to pay up, they can be readily disposed of. This was the time of the spiv and his henchpersons, who walked unmolested through the streets, carefully concealing themselves from public view and striking when and where necessary.Harry Waxman has produced some truly memorable visual metaphors for this world. He uses a tilted camera in which the characters' faces are reflected in the mirror; on at least two occasions he has people smashing china figures on the ground. The death of Pinkie's loyal associate Spicer (Wylie Watson) is truly shocking, especially when the gang-leader throws a suitcase of the old man's clothes from an upper level down to the lower level, to rest on the inanimate corpse. Human life is that cheap for the young man. Yet the Boultings' version of the book also focuses on another level of meaning, as it tries to explore Pinkie's psychology in terms of his religion. He continually fingers his rosary beads, reminding us of his lapsed Catholicism; this represents a source of considerable guilt, but he conceals it beneath a veneer of bravado. Attenborough is quite masterful at this; his face remains impassive throughout, his eyes staring coldly at the camera or boring into his friends' expressions as if defying them to detect a chink of emotion underneath. He believes that the only means to survive in an amoral world is to be a 'hard man.'In line with the censorship codes of the day, Pinkie is brought to bear in the end, as he loses his sang froid and commits suicide - a final betrayal of his Catholic faith. But the Boultings have not finished yet; in a supremely unexpected moment, they have Pinkie's common-law widow (Carol Marsh) playing a gramophone record of her husband disclosing her true feelings for him. The needle sticks, and we hear only one phrase repeated over and over, so much so that it becomes meaningless - a suitable metaphor for the world Pinkie inhabited.Owing a lot to the pragmatic techniques of British documentary film=making, with lighting and shadow effects straight from German Expressionist movies of the previous decade, BRIGHTON ROCK is a true classic of the postwar British cinema, as arresting today as it ever was.

"I never knew the old" Brighton "before the war" with its razor-slashing protectionist race gangs, crooked lawyers and ineffective police. We seldom travelled out of London. "I really got to know it in" those post-war days of safe family holidays by the sea - the excitement of the beach, ice cream sodas on the West Pier, cinemas in the evening.....(No prize for recognising my reference to the opening of the great film that appeared two years later!)Part of my fascination with the 1947 "Brighton Rock" is of course affection for a place I grew to love and know so well during the course of many happy vacations with my parents in those far-off days. I was even drawn to eventually settle in a sort of mini-Brighton complete with Regency squares and balconies and the sound of screaming seagulls, 37 miles along the coast to the east. But I digress.....What particularly surprised me on a recent viewing of the film was not only how well it has worn, but the extreme darkness of its nightmare vision of a gangster-ridden society. For a British film of the late '40's it is unusually violent and shot through with a bleakness that outstrips much of the Hollywood noir of the period. Was there ever a more vicious young thug than Richard Attenborough's enormously effective portrayal of the 17 year old Pinkie Brown who runs his protectionist racket from a seedy backstreet dwelling? Pointless to write at length when so much has already been written. (An excellent user comment on this site from laika-lives says it all). Simply let me record my admiration for the Boulting Brothers, especially John the director, for demonstrating an understanding of pacing and montage that almost equals the best work of the great Carol Reed, particularly in the terrific opening quarter of an hour when the unfortunate and terrified Fred is finally tracked down to meet his doom on the Ghost Train at the end of Palace Pier. They don't seem to do sequences like this with such style any more. A good enough reason, I would have thought, for shunning a recent remake!

There was no action and not much substance to it. Attenborough held the same expression (moody) throughout and there was a pathetic female character in it who really epitomised everything I hate about a lot of films made in the black and white period; over-the-top, whiny, clingy and acting completely without passion or skill. I believe the film was supposed to be character-driven but as the main character was more silent than talkative, an audience wouldn't really be able to explore the depths of his persona. Given Attenborough's one expression, I don't think his character had any other sides to his personality. If his character was a word it would be 'monosyllabic'.