breve incontro (1945)

Prima di Sirk e delle sue tinte fiammeggianti, prima di kazan e di madison county, Lean aveva già delineato i contorni del melò in questo piccolo, struggente capolavoro, grigio e volutamente privo di eccessi, lascia voce solo alla fragilità dei protagonisti.

"He turned his eyes to the grey gleaming river, winding along towards Dublin. Beyond the river he saw a goods train winding out of Kingsbridge Station, like a worm with a fiery head winding through the darkness, obstinately and laboriously. It passed slowly out of sight, but still he heard in his ears the laborious drone of the engine reiterating the syllables of her name.
He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine pounding in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm to die away. He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone."