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!
Part of the dialog for Orson Welles's character in The Third Man

Here's one of the finest British films ever made. It takes a storyline with mystery and twists, and then spices it up with one of the most memorable villains of cinema, skilled direction from Carol Reed that provides pace and parsed out revelations, innovative camera angles and chiaroscuro, and an evocative soundtrack that weaves all the other elements into a solid fabric.

Historical Background: Carol Reed (1906-1976) gained some experience with mystery adaptations early in his career, when he worked as an advisor to mystery writer Edgar Wallace, helping him adapt his plays to the stage. Reed turned that experience to excellent advantage in the present film. Prior to World War II, Reed made mostly modest low budget productions, though a couple of them were pretty good: The Stars Look Down (1939) and Night Train to Munich (1940). During World War II, Reed served in the British Army's film unit, making documentaries, including two, A Way Ahead (1944) and True Glory (1945), often listed among the best made during the war. When peace came, Reed surprised the film world by turning out a quality of films that could not have been predicted from his work up to that time. The string began with Odd Man Out (1947) followed by The Fallen Idol (1948). His next film, The Third Man (1949), is considered Reed's premium masterpiece, though he also had additional successes later on, with the likes of A Kid for Two Farthings (1955) and Oliver! (1968).

The Third Man was voted, by the members of the British Film Institute, the greatest British film of all time! It may be unfair, however, to refer to it as Reed's masterpiece because its greatness really owes to exceptional contributions from several individuals, both British and American. Alexander Korda (British) and David O. Selznick (American) acted as co-producers. Korda played a larger role in the film than Selznick, including the insistence (along with Reed) on casting Orson Wells in the role of Harry Lime. Selznick, on the other hand, was responsible for the casting of both Joseph Cotton and Alida Valli, each of whom he had under contract. Selznick modified the film for its American release, substituting a different opening narration and trimming some scenes, but, since the British version is widely considered the superior one, the editing by Selznick hardly accrues to his credit. You can decide for yourself about the alternative narrations, however, since the nifty Criterion DVD offers both. Reed, of course, was British and the film was shot in Vienna and, in small part, in London studies, so fairness would dictate that the film be viewed primarily as a British one. Nevertheless, it was also voted by members of the American Film Institute as the 57th best American film of all-time! The two lead male characters, Holly Martins and Harry Lime, were British friends in the original story by writer Graham Greene, but became Americans as a result of the film status as a co-production. Graham got even, in a way, by using the change in nationality of the principals to insert some veiled barbs relating to European hostility toward American arrogance.

The Story: If you haven't already seen this film, my recommendation is that you skip the plot synopsis altogether and go into the viewing of the film with as little foreknowledge as possible. The less you know about the story the better. American pulp fiction writer Holly Martins (Joesph Cotton) is dead broke when he arrives in Vienna, in response to an invitation from an old college buddy, Harry Lime (Orson Welles). Lime has offered him a job, but Martins quickly discovers that he has barely arrived in time for his friend's funeral. There will be no job and Martins doesn't even have the wherewithal to fly home. Moreover, his curiosity as a writer gets the best of him when he discovers that some of the statements in relation to the accident that supposedly killed his friend are at variance with others. Martins is initially convinced that there is some kind of police cover-up and, like one of the gunfighters in his novels, he's determined to get to the bottom of things and mete out justice.

Martins's inquiries are not welcomed by anyone – certainly not Maj. Calloway (Trevor Howard), the mustached military police officer in charge of the case, or his aide, Sgt. Paine (Bernard Lee). Paine even gives Martin a bruised lip, though reluctantly, since Paine is a fan of Martins's Westerns, such as The Lone Rider of Santa Fe and Oklahoma Kid. Even Lime's local friends, the weasel-like Baron Kurtz (Ernst Deutsch), a violinist at the Casanova Club, and Dr. Winkel (Erich Ponto), pronounced "Vinkel," suggest that Martins leave well-enough alone. Martins tracks down a young woman whom he saw at Lime's funeral, Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli), who works as an actress at the Josefstadt Theater. Even she joins the chorus, asking, "Why don't you leave this town? Go home."

One bit of mystery revolves around the eponymous "third man" who may or may not have helped carry Lime from the roadway, where he was run down, to the side of the road. Two are accounted for: Baron Kurtz and the Romanian Popescu (Siegfried Breuer), another friend of Lime's. The Porter (Paul Hörbiger), at the hotel where Martins is staying, has additional information to give to Martins, but ends up murdered before he can divulge it. One way or another, Martins intends to sort out the truth from the lies.

Themes: With the film set in occupied and partitioned Vienna in 1948, it's not too difficult to read political messages and symbolism between the lines. Holly Martins represents the big-hearted, blustery, well-meaning American who comes to Europe with no knowledge of the languages, behaves like he knows better than the local professionals how everything should be done, and generally sticks his nose into everyone else's business. He's somewhat like the hard-drinking cowboys that he writes about, the ones that shoot from the hip without much forethought. He blunders his way through, despite sometimes seeing not too bright, drawing on unlimited reserves of Yankee optimism. The other American in the film, Harry Lime, is even worse, representing profiteering capitalists and black marketers.

Still, scriptwriter Greene doesn't reserve all of his verbal bullets for the Americans. Anna Schmidt is quintessentially European, stuck fast to her loyalties without regard to moral implications. Even knowing that Harry Lime profiteered in a way that killed babies, that he committed murder, and that he betrayed Anna herself, she refuses to participate in bringing him to justice. Her attitude parallels the blind nationalism that led many German and Austrian citizens to back their national leaders, during the war, regardless of the immorality of their leaders' activities. Greene also hints at the emerging problems of occupation, between the Soviets, on the one hand, and the Americans and British on the other hand. The French are curiously omitted from the film, though they too occupied a sector of Vienna at the time. The final scene of the film epitomizes the difference between European pride and American bluster. Holly Martins, having done the "right" thing, hops out of the jeep and awaits Anna Schmidt, who is walking up a long lane lined with leafless trees. In a pulp Western, such as those that Martins writes, the good guy would end up with the girl. That's the American conceit. Instead, Schmidt walks right past him, without so much as turning her eyes or head toward him. Martins then kicks the ground and lights up a cigarette, realizing that he's as close to a post-sex moment with her as he's ever going to get. For a moment, American arrogance has been trumped by European dignity and reserve.

As much as anything, this film is about the conflict between morality and loyalty. How should one behave when one discovers that a dear friend or family member is involved in something criminal or immoral? Does one do the "right" or "legal" thing and help bring the person to justice or does one help the friend escape or otherwise evade responsibility? Martins initially agrees to give up Lime to the police, in order to help Anna, but she flatly refuses to be the price of what she calls "betrayal." Chastened by her denunciation of his behavior, Martins decides not to cooperate, until Major Calloway shows him firsthand the results of Lime's malfeasance. Finally Martins reluctantly concedes, "I'll be your dumb decoy duck." For Anna, however, Martins's "morality" is just a sign of weak character. She never waffles in her loyalty to her ex-lover, even knowing that he's betrayed her to the Soviet police.

Reed, however, never takes these "deeper" meanings too seriously. This film is designed for entertainment, so the themes are kept subordinate. Reed once stated, "We had no desire to move people's political emotions." Instead of showing viewers the babies damaged by the lack of efficacy of Lime's diluted penicillin, he keeps the camera riveted on Martins's face, reacting to the evidence. The villain in this piece is so charmingly charismatic as to be downright Baudelairean. This is a film aimed more at entertainment than moral judgments.

Production Values: The script provided by Graham Greene has all of the elements of a good film noir thriller, including the gruff, hard-drinking hero, the femme fatale, and the shadowy villain, but Greene takes these pieces and adapts them for his own larger purposes. There's a richness of devices in the telling of the story, provided by both Greene and Reed, that deepen the story's appeal. Several times, Reed chooses not to show viewers what our imaginations can fill in just as well on their own. The Porter hollers out the window that he's got something important to tell Martins, later in the day, then turns and sees a man who is about to murder him. The camera never turns to identify the killer but instead remains fixed on the terrified man's face. The babies in a hospital, damaged because of the villain's greed, are seen by Martins, but not by viewers. Even the climactic shooting near the film's end occurs off-screen. Viewers understand what has happened but only hear the gun's retort. Too many modern films have lost the understanding that a viewer's imagination can provide horrors felt more strongly than those shown explicitly.

This film features one of the greatest character entrances ever to appear on screen. Orson Welles's character has been talked about and speculated about for well over an hour before the man makes his classic appearance. Hidden in a shadowy entranceway, the front of the man's shoes are barely visible to the protagonist, who accuses the stalker of being rather amateurish. Holly demands that he show himself. Astute viewers will already know who the man is, from the fondness of Anna's cat for him, but, suddenly, a light comes on in a nearby bedroom that illuminates the lurking man's face. A slight wince flits across Welles's brow. Welles's role in this film became such a signature identity for the man that he was later enlisted to make a series of about forty radio shoes based on the character.

There's an intriguing recurrent device having to do with names, forgotten or mispronounced. Holly Martins repeatedly refers to Maj. Calloway as "Callahan," causing the Major to take exception and to insist that he's English, not Irish. Holly also repeatedly mispronounces Dr. Winkel's name, despite Winkel correcting him more than once. Not remembering or mispronouncing a name is a sign of disrespect, similar to not speaking the native language. Later, Holly gets his comeuppance when the woman in whom he's taken some interest keeps referring to him by her previous lover's name. Later, in a snit, she adds, "Holly. What a silly name." Still later, when Calloway suggests that Holly be sensible, he replies, resignedly, "I haven't got a sensible name, Calloway." At least Martins finally got the Major's name right. When Anna realizes that Holly plans to betray his old friend, she suggests that he take a look at himself in a mirror. "They have a name for faces like that," she says. That name, of course, is "traitor." It's these kind of touches that give The Third Man an added depth.

The film's ending was hotly disputed, with Reed ultimately having his way over the objections from Graham, who wanted a more up-beat conclusion. Graham later acknowledged that Reed's choice had been the right one. The European style ending that prevailed could be viewed as a mocking contrast with the sentimental one for that Hollywood classic, Casablanca, a film that also related to post-war black market profiteering.

The present film was shot largely on-location in Vienna, complete with bombed-out buildings, not yet rebuilt even in 1949. Many of the interiors, however, retained a kind of European opulence that is uncommon in America. Welles refused to film in the actual sewers of Vienna and so that part of the film was made on a soundstage, in manufactured sets. The striking black-and-white photography is ideal for this film, high-lightning the shadowy, murky atmosphere. There's a lot of use of intriguing camera angles, such as a shot up the center of a long spiral staircase. The final extended shot of Anna Schmidt walking down a long desolate roadway is spectacular. Overall, the film has an artful stylishness about it, from the magnificent Pratter Wheel (what we in America would call a Ferris Wheel) to the old man selling balloons to cops on a stakeout.

Perhaps more than any one other element in the film, the remarkable sound track unifies the film and generates its melancholy yet deceptively whimsical mood. Anton Karas, whom Reed encountered in a Viennese nightclub, provided the music on his zither. The soundtrack was recorded in Reed's home in London. It's hard to imagine any more conventional choice of music being as effective as Karas's evocative score.

Joseph Cotton's performance is often overlooked in comparison with Welles's famous one, but Cotton has the part that sets the film's overall tone and carries the story most of the way. Maybe Jimmy Stewart, who was Reed's first choice, could have played the part even better, but Cotton is very effective. He was at the height of his career, with performances in such films as Citizen Kane (1941), The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), Gaslight (1944), and Duel in the Sun (1946) already behind him and The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) and Heaven's Gate (1980) still to come. Although Alida Valli, who plays Anna Schmidt, never became especially well known to English-speaking audiences, she appeared in about a hundred films in her native Italy, including We the Living (1942), Senso (1954), Eyes Without a Face (1960), The Spider's Stratagem (1970), and Suspiria (1976). Valli finds the right balance between postwar hardness and feminine vulnerability. Bernard Lee, who plays, Sgt. Paine, later became a familiar face as "M" in the first eleven Bond films.

Besides acting in this film, Orson Welles wrote some of his own lines, including the famous one quoted at the top of this review. He did not, however, contribute in any way to the directing of the film, despite persistent myths to the contrary. Welles is so effective in his small part that he quite simply made the guiltless profiteer one of the most famous villains in film history. Welles had a long career as both actor and director, appearing in such films as Citizen Kane (1941), Jane Eyre (1944), Lady from Shanghai (1948), The Black Rose (1950), Othello (1952), Moby Dick (1956), A Man for All Seasons (1966), and Casino Royale (1967) and directing such films as Citizen Kane (1941), The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), The Stranger (1946), The Lady from Shanghai (1948), Otello (1952), Touch of Evil (1958), The Trial (1963), and Chimes at Midnight (1966).

Bottom-Line: There's a solid array of extras on this Criterion DVD, in addition to a luminous transfer of the main feature. There's a video introduction by Peter Bogdanovich, an abridged recording of Graham Greene's original story, two segments of the radio show called The Third Man (starring Welles), the alternate opening voiceover for the American release, archival footage of composer Anton Karas and the film's sewer set, two theatrical trailers, and an extensive collection of behind-the-scenes still photos, taken during production. There are English subtitles for the hearing impaired. The film's running time is 104 minutes. I've listed this film as number two (All One-hundred and Six BAFTA Award-Winning Films) or number three (The Best Films By Country (excluding U.S.A.) (A-Z write-off)) on two different lists of best British films, which is about as high praise as I can give a film. This is a must-see for anyone who enjoys film noir, mysteries, great performances, or just plain great filmmaking.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older