"The Shawshank Redemption," with Tim Robbins, Morgan Freeman, Bob Gunton, Clancy Brown, and James Whitmore. Written and directed by Frank Darabont, based on the short novel "Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption," by Stephen King. City Centre. "R" - Restricted; profanity, violence, mature content.

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When trustworthy colleagues told me they found "The Shawshank Redemption" either too long or vaguely disappointing, I must confess I was mystified. As the credits rolled after my first viewing, I was certain I'd seen one of the best movies of the year.

After a second viewing (a rare luxury for reviewers these days), I understood my friends' complaints but my initial opinion held firm. It's true that Frank Darabont, making an otherwise remarkably assured directorial debut, could use a lesson in pacing and editorial economy, and from a detached perspective "The Shawshank Redemption" is likely to seem cleverly but deviously manipulative. It's by no means a perfect movie.

But like "Field of Dreams," this movie about perseverance, ingenuity, and hope in the face of hopelessness held a greater personal significance - an emotional connection to a well-told story that transcended whatever niggling reservations I might have formed.

Judging from the applause that followed both screenings I attended, there's clearly something to "The Shawshank Redemption" that many people will find, well . . . redeeming.

It's in many ways a standard prison movie, beginning in 1947 when a New England banker named Andy (Tim Robbins) is wrongly convicted for the murder of his adulterous wife and her lover, and sentenced to two life terms in the Shawshank State Prison in Maine. There he meets Red (Morgan Freeman), another lifer who's "a regular Sears Roebuck," serving as Shawshank's primary supplier of smuggled goods and contraband.

The corrupt, Bible-thumping warden (Bob Gunton) is a joylessly hissable villain straight out of the Snidely Whiplash school of melodrama, as is his vile and violent head guard, played with mule-headed brutality by the ever-effective Clancy Brown. Providing moral counter-balance are the prison's oldest inmate (a welcomed return for James Whitmore), and the close-knit members of Red's benevolent gang who, like Red, see in Andy a unique and optimistic spirit.

Their admiration deepens when Andy earns rare privileges (by cooking the warden's books and filing the guards' tax returns) and mounts a successful campaign to build New England's finest prison library. But every privilege has a greater cost, and "The Shawshank Redemption" turns into a dark journey of the soul, with Andy cleverly and patiently awaiting his chance at freedom.

To say that Robbins is too inexpressive is to miss the subtle, internalized grace of a finely calibrated performance.

Like a sly bluffer who knows just when to tip his hand, Robbins portrays Andy as a man who can survive torture, threat, and psychological terrorism because he's matched his inward faith with an outward defense. The latter gives the movie its almost mythological payoff, delivered in tandem by the equally excellent Freeman, whose wise narration rises Andy's uplifting story to almost legendary status.

Sharply adapted by Darabont from a novella by Stephen King, the film has been mounted with physical authenticity, but as a kind of adult fable it should not be confused with reality. There's a slightly artificial tidiness to the story, and it won't grab you if you aren't immediately hooked.

But as it spans nearly two decades in the enduring friendship of Andy and Red, "The Shawshank Redemption" accumulates the kind of spiritual depth that comes from taking a path well chosen. The journey may not be a smooth one, but the destination is well worth the effort.

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