Nick Bartlett
It's easy to reduce The Third Man to the 10 minutes or so spent with Orson Welles, but there's so much more to the film than a speech about cuckoo clocks. It's a film that is as entertaining now as it was when was it first released, with uniformly excellent performances, eminently quotable dialogue, an iconic score and some of the most beautiful cinematography ever committed to film.
When rewatching the film, the first thing you notice is the refreshingly breezy, almost playful tone, unlike many of the moody film noire of the time, The Third Man isn't afraid to be fun, and this is apparent from the very start of the film, with the cheery theme music and the irreverent opening narration (from Carol Reed himself) contrasted with what looks suspiciously like a body floating in the river, making clear the film's mission statement of striking a balance between wry comedy and a more sinister moments.
Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) a down on his luck pulp western author, arrives in Vienna having been offered a job by his childhood best friend, Harry Lime, only to find that Lime has been killed in an accident. After meeting with detective Calloway (Trevor Howard) and Lime's girlfriend Anna (Alida Valli) Martins begin to suspect there's more to Harry's death than meets the eye. The story itself has been pastiched so many times since that it's almost redundant explaining all the ins and outs, especially when the twist aspect is somewhat ruined by the fact that Orson Welles' name is featured so prominently, and Harry Lime is such an iconic character that anybody with the simplest understanding of how films work would suspect that the character's death is suspicious.
Like the best Film Noirs, context is everything, and The Third Man contains much more than the average mystery thriller. The ghost of the Second World War looms large over the film, even influencing the way the film is shot, with bombed out buildings and rubble in the background throughout, and the skewed camera angles dominating every shot of the film. This also influences the central thrust of the narrative, with the films light tone often belying a serious point about the opportunism and corruption that spread after the end of the war. Vienna is established as this post-war mix of different countries where nobody speaks the same language, so when Martins gets abducted by Hyde-White's driver, despite the fact that it's primarily meant to build to a funny reveal, the disoriented feeling that the film has established by this point makes the scene believably ominous.
Though Welles makes an indelible impression with only a handful of scenes, the cast is uniformly perfect, from Alida Valli's hopelessly devoted actress to Wilfred Hyde White's bumbling busybody and Bernard Lee's cheery military policeman. Joseph Cotten is often unjustly sidelined in any discussion of the film, but his turn as the befuddled Holly Martins is brilliantly realised. He's someone who has the best intentions, but is so gullible and careless that he ends the film no better off than at the start. In any other Film Noir, Martins' actions would mark him out as a pathetic character, probably played by Elisha Cook Jr or Peter Lorre, but in this he comes across as oddly noble and moralistic, despite ratting out his friend and not getting the girl. Cotten also effectively conveys the disconcerting feeling of being completely alone in a foreign country, especially in the scene where he is accused of murder, and has to escape the uncertain mob led by a little Austrian boy. Martins is completely unaware of the mounting suspicion towards him, until Anna translates what the accusers are saying, and his panic is tangible. However, the audience is always on Martins side, and this is almost entirely due to Cotten's performance, his endless stumbling from dangerous situation to dangerous situation combined with his amiable attitude makes him the perfect film noir protagonist.
Also, while there is often a lot of discussion surrounding Welles' contribution to the Cuckoo clock scene, (supposedly he wrote it himself, though this is heavily disputed) there is rarely much discussion about his actual performance, which is one of the more realistic depictions of evil committed to cinema. Welles' easy charm and eloquence is perfect for the role, but just as effective are his deep, soulful eyes, which he uses to chilling effect when the facade is lifted, and we get the briefest glimpse of Lime's true nature. The way he inspires loyalty from those around him through sheer charisma sounds farfetched, but is all too believable once he finally appears onscreen, but he is nonetheless a callous, heartless villain, whose smooth talking contrasts with the general decency shown by Martins and the bluntly moral Calloway.
It's here I'd like to talk a little bit about my favourite character in the film. Stealing every scene in which he appears is Trevor Howard's wryly laconic military policeman, whose dry humour and decency pervades the whole film. Howard is one of finest actors of his generation, and his dry, crisp intonations make every sardonic line reading he gives wonderfully memorable. He basically serves as the films direct opposite to Lime, displaying the down to earth decency that is directly opposed to Lime's smooth talking malevolence, and the relationship between Calloway and Martins is one of the most touching of the film. Initially antagonistic and hostile; the two eventually form a grudging respect for one another, though Calloway never stops teasing Martins for a minute. While Martins faces a moral dilemma at the films conclusion, and struggles to do the right thing throughout, Calloway and Lime serve as the demon and angel on his shoulders, and over the last half hour or so the two characters essentially battle for his conscience. The stiff upper lip has never looked so cool.
The Third Man was Reed's third and final collaboration with cinematographer Robert Krasker, and while both had prolific careers independently, it was these three films that cemented both their reputations. Odd Man Out is a more serious, elegiac film, while The Fallen Idol is a pretty straightforward morality drama, albeit one with perfect performances and an excellent script, but both feature the same incredibly iconic stark black and white cinematography, with slightly askew camera angles, stretching shadows hiding who knows what, and significantly creaky locations. The Third Man is full of amazingly shot sequences, and this is shown best in the climactic chase through Vienna's underground sewers, which acts as a kind of showcase for Krasker's cinematography, quickly cutting from the police to wide shots of the sewers to extreme closeups of Lime, really putting you in the mindset of Lime as he gets completely disoriented by the echoes reverberating around the tunnels, culminating in one of the most beautiful shots of the film, that of Harry's fingers weakly poking through the sewer drains he tries to escape.
There are too many brilliant set pieces to go into in too much depth, but they are all just perfect. For my money though, the first reveal of Harry in the doorway, and the final shot, which is held for an agonisingly long time, are two of the most perfect scenes in cinema history. It's incredible that Reed just waits for Anna to walk a fairly long way without cutting away, only to end on such a bleak note; it takes over a minute, which may not sound like much, but feels an awfully long time in a film. It's completely heartbreaking, and one of the perfect film noir endings.
The Third Man is a film that I enjoy every time I watch it, and I've watched it a fair few times. Everything the film does, it does perfectly, the performances are uniformly excellent, Anton Karas' unique zither score has been parodied and referenced countless times, and Robert Krasker's cinematography is beautifully set up. It's one of those "perfect storm" occasions where everything fell perfectly into place. They really don't make them like this anymore.
