Entertainment

Brighton Rock

Graham Greene’s guilt-and-gangsters tale “Brighton Rock” gets an even more melodramatic telling than in the 1947 film version courtesy of first-time director Rowan Joffe, whose histrionic adaptation screams “student film” with practically every frame.

Sam Riley, who looks like a cross between Leo DiCaprio and a mouse, plays “Pinkie,” the canvas upon which Greene splattered his Catholic guilt while attempting to piece together a thriller about murder and retribution in the beach resort town of the title. (Brighton rock is a kind of hard candy sold in stick form that turns out to be convenient for murdering purposes.)

Joffe moves the action to 1964, apparently to let his costume and production designers hijack the film with a limitless array of snazzy-looking motor scooters, tie bars and tea parlors. Yet the muddled plot, thin characters and clunky dialogue underwhelm.

If you can make out the Cockney accents — doubtful — you’ll discover Pinkie is trying to take over his gang by double-crossing his buddies and currying favor with the chief mobster in town (Andy Serkis). Helen Mirren, John Hurt and several subsidiary thugs, heavies and villains come and go to no interesting effect.

Amid tiresome cinematic bombast meant to draw attention to the director — and, perhaps, distract from the pokiness of the story — the standout element is Andrea Riseborough’s quiet performance as Rose, a shy waitress Pinkie must marry because she knows too much about his crimes. She’s the only aspect of the movie that isn’t trying too hard; as a result, you can’t take your eyes off her.