Clearly it was a good time for first-time filmmakers.

Frank Darabont, the writer behind movies like The Blob and The Fly II, made his feature debut with this film, and boy did he make all the right moves: he adapted a novel by the ever-reliable Stephen King, borrowed cinematographer Roger Deakins from the Coen brothers, and cast Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins in roles that would invariably be remembered as their finest.

Then again, he did take the Robbins role first to Kevin Costner, who turned it down to make his wet dud Waterworld, and kicked himself forever.

The prison drama -- narrated brilliantly by Freeman before he became synonymous with the Hollywood voiceover -- is told from the point of view of 'Red' Redding (Freeman himself), the prison's most enterprising insider.

There's a price for everything, Red feels, constantly setting wheels within wheels to get prisoners whatever they need -- from candy to cigarettes -- from the outside world. One day, standing around and making what seems like an everyday wager on a fresh batch of inmates, he bets cigarettes on a man named Andy Dufresne.

The bet is that Andy -- played by Tim Robbins and looking as clueless as can be -- will cry during his first night in prison. Red loses the cigarettes, and Andy, a banker convicted for murder, becomes a valuable resource to the inmates -- gradually turning into their own financial guru, totting up the warden's unscrupulously earned cash. As taxman for most of the prison's officials, Andy earns his own clout.

As a strong drama, the film doesn't flinch from high-handedness and even the occasional cliche, but so powerful is Darabont's handling of the subject -- and so mammoth the performances of the two central players, not to mention James Whitmore as the prison librarian -- that the film comes off as a spectacular achievement in storytelling, finely treading the line between moral commentary and a story of sheer human spirit.

Red, in for murder just like Andy, is often brought up in front of the parole board, who inevitably ask him if he feels he has been rehabilitated. He nods a yes each time, but gradually comes to grips with the thought that he has lived so much of his life behind bars that he might not even be able to live in the world outside.

In this terrific scene, he finally tells the parole board what he thinks of rehabilitation.

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