“You're not my father, you're a public monument!” So shouts Odile Verosis at David Kossoff who is Ambassador in Fifties London for an East European country. Both of them have survived a war in which wife and mother died. The situation remains tense, so much so that she was seen sobbing while going on her own to watch Swan Lake at Covent Garden. That man (David Knight) at her side hastens to catch up with her as she leaves the auditorium.
Of course, the title - The Young Lovers (1954) - reveals what swiftly ensues, and it gives little away to reveal that this is another variant on Romeo and Juliet: he works in a coding department at the American Embassy. Directed by Anthony Asquith from a script by George Tabori, this is a curiously little-known film (it does not make it into any film guide I have to hand), and yet it keeps one's attention throughout. Although there are brightly-lit scenes of London thoroughfares, complete with high-platformed taxis, this is mainly a work of interiors: paradoxically, the Eastern European premises are dark and spacious, their high ceilings requiring deep shots which are a contrast with the utilitarian American set-up (where Joan Sims pops up as a switchboard operator, a previously unknown figure at the heart of the Cold War).
It is bold stuff for its time. Somehow, in the middle of London waves are seen to crash on a rocky shore between the shot in which they kiss and the one that finds her wearing only a slip upon his bed. Evidently the city moved for them.
How will it turn out? These passions can only erupt, unleashing the high drama of the last third. This is edge-of-the-seat, edge-of-the-Coast stuff: well worth your time.