I watched this film many years ago as a child in the 1960s. Though I have not seen it again since then, I remember it like I remember no other movie because of the impact it had on me. The movie was filmed in black and white and I believe it was set in England.
As I recall, it is a simple and moving story about the relationship that formed between a grieving schoolmaster and a young boy who transferred into his class one day. The schoolmaster was grieving the death of his own young son who was killed recently somehow. In the scene that introduces the boy, the schoolmaster accidentally overturns a cup of paintbrushes in a fit of despair. In the next scene, we see a boy's hand pick up a paintbrush and then we see the boy hand it back to him. Throughout the film, the boy tries in his own way to reach out to the schoolmaster to befriend him, but the schoolmaster finds it difficult to get close to him or to anyone in his grief. Something happens later in the film that awakens the schoolmaster to his feelings about the boy and reveals the miracle that brought them together.
Ours is a skeptical and cynical age. This movie will remind us of a simpler time and perhaps stir something in us that we may have forgotten. It is a movie of suffering and hope.
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