That zither music.

“I never knew the old Vienna before the war, with its Strauss music, its glamour and easy charm. Constantinople suited me better. I really got to know it in the classic period of the black market.”

And with that brilliant opening voice over narration (actually spoken by director Carol Reed) we are introduced to The Third Man (1949), a film which I fell in love with ever since I first saw it some 45 odd years ago. It is a landmark in worldwide cinema notably for its unique mix of genres – thriller, tragedy, historical and comedy.

I don’t know why this movie always hooks me the way it does; it’s a revered piece of British cinema, but that alone is not the reason (there are other such great films which fail to have that effect on me). Maybe it’s the setting: the beautiful city of Vienna right after World War II, the scars of the most devastating conflict in human history still visible at every corner.

The Third Man takes elements from classic film noir and German expressionism creating a timeless classic. To say this is one of the best British films of all time is an understatement, because it deserves to be considered amongst the very best the world has offered.

Everything about this film is perfection, from the opening setting of the plot; to the iconic zither score by Anton Karas that accompanies it (which not in a million years I would’ve considered it to fit this thriller, but it does perfectly); to Graham Greene’s fantastic screenplay delivering on every twist; to Orson Welles’s spectacular entrance scene (one of the best in film history); to the uncountable amount of Dutch angle shots that help build the tense atmosphere accompanied by an unprecedented visual aesthetic from cinematographer Robert Krasker who turns the evocative shadows into a character in this film; to the memorable Ferris wheel scene where Orson Welles delivers his famous “cuckoo clock” speech; to the spectacular chase scene through the sewers of Vienna; to the final long shot that ends the film in a magnificent and memorable way only adding to the romantic fatalism theme of the story.

Every single decision made during the production of this film, even those they came across by chance, seems to have worked to perfection. This is not a case where you can say it’s style over substance or vice versa, it’s one of those rare films where style and substance come together to deliver a perfect visual aesthetic and an intriguing theme with memorable character.

The opening narration introduces us to postwar Vienna, a city of bombed buildings and piles of rubble that has been divided into four occupied zones by the victorious allies (British, American, Russian and French). It is a place where opportunists and racketeers have come to make a living in its widespread black market. This is where Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten), an American pulp novelist, enters the scene. He is broke, but has been invited by Harry Lime (Orson Welles), a good old friend from his school days, to stay with him in Vienna.

Upon his arrival, Holly discovers that Harry has been killed in a traffic accident. Being the mystery novelist that he is, Holly begins to talk to some of Harry’s friends who witnessed his accident and discovers some inconsistencies in their stories. He reports these suspicions to Major Calloway (Trevor Howard), the man in charge of the investigation, but he quickly dismisses him and says he should return home. Major Calloway believes it is best that Harry has died since he was a racketeer who caused many innocent deaths with him peddling diluted penicillin. Holly however becomes intrigued with the case after the porter of Harry’s building tells him there was a third man involved in the scene, but who no one else accounts for. Holly also befriends and falls for Anna (Alida Valli), Harry’s mistress who has fled from Czechoslovakia, which gives him another reason to stay for a few more days to try to uncover the mystery of his friend’s untimely death.

The film is so visually stunning (it’s only Oscar win was for best cinematography) that at times people forget to mention how great Graham Greene’s script actually is. He understood this post-war European world and how the black market worked because he himself was a former British spy. That is what makes the story so believable and gives the film its substance. Of course the style is what turns this into a landmark film with its clever shots playing with Dutch angles, lights, smokes, and shadows, its wonderful editing, and its amazing score, but the film has a great plot to go along with it as well as some amazing performances.

Joseph Cotten delivers a solid performance as the lead hero who comes into this world as a naive child believing everything is black and white. He is flawed, he is a drunk who falls in love way too easy. Harry’s friends all have faces who at least look very suspicious; and then there is Orson Welles himself who with less than 15 minutes of screen time steals the movie. He could’ve done so just with his iconic entrance alone (delivering a perfect smile), which is gorgeously lighted.

Alida Valli also delivers as the female attraction in this film and, of course, Trevor Howard, is exceptional as the quietly cynical but ultimately compassionate British officer.

It all leads to an exciting finale with the climatic chase in the sewers, where Harry is looking for a way out, voices emerge from dark tunnels that look like monuments to the deceased: it is as if he has guiltily heard the people he murdered talking to him.

The sewer feels complex, dark, liquid, with different levels and small tubes. Hence figuratively characters dive inside their subconscious to be confronted to their evil part: Holly faces his alter ego Harry for the last time. The two men’s gazes are similarly intense. Harry nods to Holly, a sign of agreement. In the final image, Holly’s silhouette in the tunnel resembles Harry’s previously.

This famous climatic sequence is followed by one of the greatest closing shots in cinema history: after the funeral, Holly waits for Anna. The image is deep, in the axis of the road; music plays softly; leaves are falling; Anna is a small figure that progressively grows bigger. Slowly, she just walks past Holly without looking at him and moves out of the frame. He is left alone. (It constitutes an important difference with the novel, which ends happily with Holly and Anna eventually walk together arm in arm. But Carol Reed thankfully imposed his ending. Greene ultimately admitted it was better.)

It is a dazzling shot, sharply contrasting with the previous sequence: bright, slow, silent, empty, melancholic, whilst the sewer sequence was dark, hectic, noisy, suffocating, cruel. It perfectly crowns this masterpiece: Anna despises Holly for his law-abiding betrayal. That’s one of the banes of life: we sometimes prefer charismatic devils to honest fools, and love is blind.

Let me end this review by citing Orson Welles’s memorable Swiss cuckoo clock speech:

“Don’t be so gloomy. After all it’s not that awful. Like the fella says, 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. So long Holly.”

Enjoy.

and the tease for my next post . . . Mr. Blue, Mr. Grey, Mr. Brown and Mr. Green.

This will be released in a couple of weeks time as my wife and I will be away in Auckland on Thursday for a week visiting family.