#244: The Third Man

Release Date: September 1st, 1949

Format: Criterion Collection on DVD

Written by: Graham Greene

Directed by: Carol Reed

4 Stars

The Third Man is another one of those canonical masterpieces that is tough to write about. You see, in general, I try not to read much criticism about a film before I write my silly little reviews. The downside of this approach, especially with classic films, is that I assume I’m writing things that have already been part of the film’s discourse for decades, and written about extensively by critics more eloquent than I. 

Oh well. I guess that’s slightly better than just regurgitating something insightful that I heard from Peter Bogdanovich.

Of course I’ve been aware of The Third Man for some time now. That Criterion DVD has been ominously staring me down for years, and tonight I finally pulled the trigger. 

The movie is about an American pulp novelist, Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton), who is invited to post-war Vienna by his old friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles). When Martins arrives, he discovers that his buddy Harry was just hit and killed by a car the day before. In shock, he attends Harry’s funeral, and amongst the smattering of attendees he encounters two British police officers, a beautiful woman (Alida Valli) in mourning, and two men who seem to be watching Martins’ every move. 

After the funeral, Martins is taken in by the police for questioning, and from there the circumstances surrounding Harry Lime’s death grow increasingly murky. 

Just what was Harry Lime doing in Vienna? Was he killed while crossing the street? Why do the two men who carried him to the sidewalk say he survived until just before paramedics arrived, when an older Viennese man across the street claims that Harry was killed upon impact? And why does this older gentleman also claim there was a mysterious third man at the scene who helped carry the body?

It’s a tremendous film, maybe a perfect one. Of its considerable and numerous strengths, I suppose the two that stood out the most to me were the photography of post-war Vienna, where much of the film was shot, and the script from British writer Graham Greene. Together they work cohesively to form a tone that might be nihilistic if it weren’t for all of the sad beauty. 

Hope and love exist in The Third Man, but much like the crumbled architecture of a Viennese cathedral, you wonder if it’s worth the effort to keep it standing.