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I would recommend that anyone invest the brief 80 minutes of your life it will take to catch up with this 1948 classic, set in the dark and depressed streets of Post-War Rome. Directed by Vitorio De Sica, this stands as a landmark in realist film-making. De Sica cast non-professional actors in the lead roles here to invest this quiet, everyday, tragedy with that realistic, pavement-centred, quality so many films aim for, but so many fail to achieve.

The Bicycle Thieves tells the story of Antonio Ricci, a man down on his luck and in desperate need of a job to feed his young family, in late 1940's Italy. Luck finally shines on Antonio and he is given a job posting bills and pictures of movie stars around Rome. Unfortunately, the dark cloud of misfortune soon returns and the bicycle Antonio bought after having to pawn his family's bed-linen is stolen. A seemingly hopeless but desperate quest to find the thieves and retrieve the bicycle on the streets of Rome is then undertaken by Antonio and his young son, Bruno.

Okay, so a depressed geezer and his son looking for a stolen bike doesn't sound like tension on a Hitchcockian level does it? Maybe it doesn't, but the sentiment could not be further from the truth. This has an astonishing, gut-wrenching, level of tension from the moment the bike is stolen owing to the incredible high stakes that are involved for the protagonists. And, ultimately, the film works so well because these are protagonists you care about. It is almost unbearably tense at times, particularly in one scene where Antonio confronts the man he believes is the thief and is then caught up in the midst of an angry local mob who defend the boy. You simply would never believe, until you see this, just how gripping a desperate man's quest for his stolen bike can be.

De Sica also knows how to end a film. After living Antonio and Bruno's difficult life on the depressed and troubled pavements of Rome, the last scene hits home very, very, hard indeed. I've commented on the power of films to deliver ethical and moral messages before and The Bicycle Thieves stands as yet another powerful example of how effective cinema can be as a communicative tool for mass, popular, morality. The film lives and breathes because we live a breath, we, ultimately, face the same tough choices, the same battles, the same turmoil, as Antonio and we equally know that faced with the same impossible choices we would probably decide the same way. This is also, through its pavement-eye realism and the effects of depression on human life, human relationships and the human soul, a naturally socialistic film. What happens to our moral compass when everything on which we depend in a capitalist system - luck, fortune, prosperity and chance - vanishes, disappears or deserts us. In these times, of course, we are constantly reminded that The Bicycle Thieves delivers a highly relevant and timely message. This, ultimately and ironically, makes this a truly timeless film, despite the contemporary score, landscape and context. Realist and neo-realist films, when well done can brilliantly convey this timeless quality, those which don't do this successfully, fall flat on their faces and feel, simply, awful.

The film is driven by Lamberto Maggiorani's stunning performance as Antonio, which swamps the film and its emotional heart. Maggiorani will jump straight to the top of my list of male performances for the 1940's and will cause me to revise my top 25 of all time list. He is that good. Not bad for a non-professional. I suppose, in a strange way, Maggiorani has that on his side as his expression filled, everyday, battle weary Antonio reflects the gritty, earthy, realism of the film. It is a beautiful and heartwarming effort, yet one filled also with tragedy, struggle and heartache. He is also brilliantly supported by Enzo Staiola who plays his young son Bruno, in a performance that belies both his tender years and lack of formal acting training. Other characters flit in and out and complement the leads perfectly well, though there are no other remarkable performances to note. This is Maggiorani's film. A timeless performance of everyday reality to match the best which is equally reflective of a timeless film.

I liked the cinematography as well. Rome is sharply and starkly depicted and the claustrophobic, in a way very un-Italian, vistas perfectly match the mood and sharpness of the film, which is, essentially, one of bleakness. Alessandro Cicognini's melancholy, haunting, score matches both brilliantly as well.

This currently stands just outside the top 100 of all time films in IMDB's chart. It belongs higher. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but there is so much here evocative of time and struggle and everything reflects great film-making at work. I like realist cinema and this is a classic example of the genre. Certainly recommended. I'll be returning to it, I'm sure, with great frequency.