Dir: Carol Reed, 1949, UK, 104 mins
Cast: Orson Welles, Joseph Cotten, Anna Valli
Review by Robb Horsley
Carol Reed’s post war masterpiece is a stunningly executed film noir, thrilling and stylish, it remains a timeless classic – topping the BFI’s list of 100 greatest British films.
The setup is deceptively simple, so much so that writer Graham Greene was able to write it on an envelope which he nearly lost when clearing up his desk: failed writer Holly Martins (Cotton) arrives in post war Vienna to attend the funeral of his old friend Harry Lime, but all is not as it seems. The details of Lime’s death are sketchy, and one of the key witnesses – the third man - has vanished. Martins decides to investigate, plunging himself into the underworld of a crumbling city, torn in two by Russia and the Allies.
Greene’s writing and Reed’s direction have infused The Third Man with a bewitching Noirish atmosphere, enhanced by Robert Krasker’s beautiful black and white camerawork, which owes much to German expressionism. Vienna is a maze of dark cobbled alleys – most of which have shadowy figures lurking around the corner; nothing is as it seems, truth is a grey area, and no one can be trusted. Lest we forget, this film helped define the aesthetic of the late Noir genre, but this is a British, or more precisely, a European Noir, a fact emphasised by authentic location shooting and Avant-garde music - created entirely on a single instrument (the Zither).
Most analysis of The Third Man centres around two remarkable scenes; the confrontation on the Ferris wheel, and the final scene, in which the antagonist is pursued through the sewers by dogs. In purely technical terms, modern films routinely better both scenes, but in terms of complexity and dramatic meaning, neither has been surpassed despite leaps forward in both technology and expertise.
Indeed The Third Man may be remembered for its style and craft, but story and performances are integral to its enduring status. The casting of Cotton and Welles was a masterstroke – despite the fact that Cotton was not Reed’s first choice. Martins (Cotton) is not a very convincing hero, nor is he a truly captivating central character, but this apparent imbalance is stunningly resolved late in the movie when Welles makes an extraordinary appearance. What follows is a supremely convincing central conflict, with Cotton providing the foil to Welles’ enigmatic anti-hero - a scenario both had explored to a certain extent in Citizen Kane. Welles’ contribution to the film is immense; he is immediately compelling and hugely charismatic. It remains perhaps his finest acting performance, despite a famous reluctance to take the role in the first place; allegedly he only accepted on the basis that he needed funds for an upcoming project (Othello), and chose a fixed fee salary as opposed to a profit share, which cost him dearly when the film became a hit.
Fortunately, Welles’ lack of enthusiasm didn’t prevent him writing some of his own dialogue, notably his legendary discourse on morality “in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed. But they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love; they had 500 years of democracy and peace. And what did that produce? The cuckoo clock!” The rest of the dialogue comes courtesy of Graham Greene. Now how could you ask for more? Go and see this film – if only for one more ride around the Ferris wheel.
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