Brighton Rock has a lot going against it: The plot of The Town. A 31-year-old actor (Sam Riley) playing a teenager. A 1960s time-frame yet the song credits are devoid of identification with any particular era. An ending that adds an ironic humanity to the far colder conclusions in Graham Greene’s 1938 novel or the 1940s film adaptation he co-wrote. A heedless ignoring of much of Greene’s Catholic perspective of main characters Pinkie (Riley) and Rose (Andrea Riseborough). Style over substance.
Yet as straight-up film noir, Brighton Rock holds its own. So what we have no idea what humble Rose sees in ruthless Pinkie? Her dedication to him despite his single-minded befriending her because she holds evidence to a murder he committed is pure loco yet very believable. Roseborough (Happy Go Lucky) is something else in conveying an other-worldly innocence, however dimwitted Rose may seem. And we can put up with Riley as a shell of himself here after his star turn in Control, the biopic of Joy Division’s Ian Curtis, as long as he’s frequently encountering stud supporting players like Helen Mirren, John Hurt, and a particularly freaky Andy Serkis as Colleoni, mob boss par excellence.
The film breathes a dark suspense despite a near-ridiculous shift in time-frame, from the novel’s 1930s to a mod-era 1960s, where dissenting youth gangs perch on less than ominous scooters ready to cause havoc eerily reminiscent of present day Great Britain. Why waste time wondering whether they’re supposed to be symbolic of Pinkie’s inner turmoil or something? Beats me when it’s so much fun catching Mirren’s acting up a storm trying to warn Rose that Pinkie’s really out to get her. While Pinkie (he’s supposed to be 17, remember) barges in on Colleoni to show him who’s boss. At one point Pinkie’s scooter actually accidentally joins forces with the mod gangs own throng of scooters. OK, as Greene turns in his grave over that one, I guess even a fun noir has limits for inane modernization.
6.5 silly scooters out of 10
