by Allan Fish
(UK 1949 106m) DVD1/2
The Lone Rider of Santa Fe
p Alexander Korda, David O.Selznick, Carol Reed d Carol Reed w Graham Greene (and Orson Welles) novel Graham Greene ph Robert Krasker ed Oswald Hafenrichter m Anton Karas art Vincent Korda cos Ivy Baker
Joseph Cotten (Holly Martins), Alida Valli (Anna Schmidt), Trevor Howard (Maj.Calloway), Orson Welles (Harry Lime), Bernard Lee (Sgt.Paine), Wilfrid Hyde-White (Crabbin), Ernst Deutsch (Baron Kurtz), Siegfried Breuer (Popescu), Erich Ponto (Dr Winkel), Wilfrid Thomas (Narrator),
“I never knew the old Vienna before the war, with its Strauss music, its glamour and its easy charm; Constantinople suited me better…” To hear those words is to be back in the company of an old friend for the best part of two hours, as if one were going to dine with someone you hadn’t seen for many years, but with whom each reacquaintance added a cherished new memory for the subconscious. My latest sighting was immediately after viewing the silent masterpiece The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, with which at first glance it would seem to have little in common. Yet a connection there most definitely was, for Reed’s much loved masterpiece is a film that the German expressionists would have applauded. Firstly because it, too, takes place in a German-speaking nation crestfallen after a war and, secondly, because of its expressionistic camera angles, which distort, disorientate and ultimately deceive. Characters are deliberately shot from certain angles almost without exception, the only one seemingly untouched being the ever loyal heroine.
In the Vienna of the four occupied zones after the war, racketeer Harry Lime summons his old friend Holly Martins, a penniless author of cheap pulp fiction westerns, to help him and give him a job. Martins arrives only to find Lime dead and his funeral taking place and sets out to find out what happened. But when his naivety and disregard for his safety gets him too close to the truth, he finds out that Harry is still alive and not at all the nice guy he once believed.
Though Welles’ contribution was limited to just his immortal two or three scene cameo and writing the lines for his character, his Lime is like many of his protagonists from his own films as he feels a sense of betrayal, expecting loyalty from everyone while giving nothing back in return. Yet Cotten’s Martins is not half as smart or cynical as his Jed Leland in Kane, who could see through Kane’s mentality. Martins is swayed back and forth between helping his friend and doing what he knows is morally right, twanging back and forth like the strings on Anton Karas’ immortal unforgettable zither. “Leave death to the professionals” Howard tells Cotten at one point, while Breuer warns him “everybody ought to be careful in a city like this.” It’s this ham-fisted attitude, represented in his complete lack of understanding of the German language and local customs – like a cowboy taking on a sheriff in one of his dime novels – that ultimately endears him to us.
Much has been made of the individual contributions and, though the cast are all on the money (though Welles drew all the attention, all are superb, with special mention to Bernard Lee’s ill-fated good-natured sergeant) it’s the other aspects that make the film great. Forget Selznick’s name on the credits, for he just leant his contracted stars Cotten and Valli for the film; this was Korda’s baby and, with the exception of Olivier’s Richard III, his last major contribution to British cinema. Director Reed was at his peak here, too, following the success of Odd Man Out and The Fallen Idol, Vincent Korda’s sets find poetry in the rubble and battered interiors and Krasker’s luminous photography was worth many of the Oscars it got. Yet its greatest factor is its refusal to be formulaic and give a happy ending. Of all its great shots, its greatest may be its last, with an almost iconic mise-en-scène which gives new meaning to downbeat. It’s a shot as cynical as the doomed Harry’s philosophy. “Would you really care if one of those dots stopped moving forever?” Lime asks Martins of the people milling around below the Ferris wheel. All one can say is, with equal ambiguity, “it depends who the dot is, Harry.”
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One of the great movies of any era and perhaps the best British movie ever. Allan with his signature erudition points to the underlying cynicism and noir sensibility that drives the narrative. The kudos for this grand filmic realisation certainly belong to Carol and Krasker, but the story and the screenplay are integral to the conception, and Grahame Greene’s contribution should be explicitly acknowledged.
I am continually intrigued on the diversity of interpretations on what The Third Man is really about, and this adds to its fascination. In my review on my blog , I see the movie as a deep analysis of love and friendship, and the imperatives of conscience. Is loyalty out of passion stronger and more genuine than the loyalty of friendship, where the object of affection is amoral and commits despicable acts?
I would like to quote British film scholar, Andrew Spicer’s take on the movie from his 2002 book, Film Noir, which for me anyway is quite audacious and while I don’t share it, is worth considering: “In the extraordinary scene on the Great Wheel with its unstable, constantly shifting perspective, Holly receives his brutal education in the post-war sensibility, a world without heroes where anything is permitted those who have the daring to break fee from bourgeois restraint and embrace the aristocratic bravura of the Borgia’s who created the Renaissance”. For me, this is what Harry Lime believes, not Greene. Greene’s affection is reserved for Holly Martins, the goofy thoroughly decent naïf who values honesty and loyalty above the self-justification that would define reality for him, and this is telegraphed brilliantly in the hilarious literary talk by Holly to a bunch of stuffed shirts.
Tony, I must check out your review later today! Your comment here is simply extraordinary as is Allan’s essay!
I agree with you that it is probably the greatest British film of all-time and a long-time personal favorite.
Three cheers for Allan’s enchanting review and Tony’s poetic comment. There are few films I become puritanically intolerant about, when it comes to those who do not see the film’s bedazzling greatness. The Third Man is one of those films. It is, simply, one of the cinema’s most awe-inspiring treasures.
And I’m thrilled to see that Tony’s consideration of The Third Man seems to mirror my own–or I should say, my response to the picture mirrors his. I find The Third Man to be breatlessly Aristotelian, thematically exploring the relationship between friendship and justice, not unlike Aristotle.
Truly, however, there are so many ways in which to look at the film, it is a wonderment to behold.
Thanks for the great supplementary comment, Tony. I don’t agree it’s the best British film ever made, but it gets on the podium.
Thanks, too, Alexander.
My first encounter with this film was many years ago, I watched it onscreen at the Detroit Film Theatre (an extension of the Detroit Institute of Art). The one scene that will remain forever remain etched in my consciousness has to do with Lime in the doorway with the cat at his feet. I was, to borrow a term from the other side of the pond, gobsmacked, enthralled by the orchestration of this sequence. Cotten’s Martins’ is quite endearing, I agree, and quite funny. His mispronunciation of Dr. Winkel’s name (“Vinkel!”, he’s told on more than one occasion) never fails to get a laugh out of me. And Vienna is glorious in its ruination, Krasker’s cinematography is sublime, as it is in Odd Man Out. Truly one for the ages.
Yet another wonderful anecdote Guy. It looks like the Detroit Film theatre hold more priceless cinematic memories for you than any other single place. Your love and ever-observant eye for this Reed masterpiece (I really so believe it is the greatest British film ever, but ODD MAN OUT pushes close, at least among Reed’s films) is astounding, as even unheralded quieter moments leave their indellible mark, like the scene you relate with Lime in the doorway with the cat. Of course, as you well-know, scenes in the amusement park (on the ferris wheel, as referenced here by Tony D’Ambra in the superlative Spicer exerpt) and in the sewers are etched in the mind, as is that searing zither score by Anton Karas. Robert Krasker’s cinematography ranks among the greatest turns in this department in the entire history of the cinema.
Guy, I think we run out of superlatives when it comes to this film. It’s truly iconic.
This is a film of exceeding greatness, as so much of it is burned into your memory forever. Yeah, I agree that music, once heard, is memorized. The Great Ferris Wheel sequence is my own favorite.
Hi! Allan, Sam and you “Thirdman” (or should that “men”-ophiles?!?)
I’am quite sure that you “all” are familiar with the Orson Welles’ blog site listed below, but just in case you aren’t…. Here it goes….
http://www.wellesnet.com/?cat=20
DCD 😉
I have seen that site indeed Dark City Dame, but I must admit you’re providing the link here is timely and most appreciated. The fact that this particular film was reviewed here, and that the 40’s poll is ongoing is even more of a reason, everyone should take a look at it. Thanks again for this!!!
Allan has been ill the past few days, i’m saddened to report.
Hi! Sam Juliano,
I’am so very sorry! to hear that Allan Fish, is “under the weather,” but whenever you, talk to him again can you, please tell him that, I’am sending “Get Well” wishes to him!….
Tks,
dcd 😉
In behalf of Allan, thanks so much for that DCD, our most excellent friend. I will hopefully speak with him tomorrow, as I’m sure he’s in that “horizontal” position now in theU.K.
By the way DCD, your January film noir series with the esteemed Alexander Coleman has started off with a bang! Great stuff!
Here’s to Allan getting better as soon as possible. Yesterday I was very much under the weather with a very sore throat, fatigue and high fever. Today it seems like I am out from under it. I hope the same occurs for you, Allan, very soon.
Hi! Alexander,
I am so very “happy” to hear that my “special”
guest is …”out from under it” and hopefully, on the road to recovery too!…Just like, Alexander and Allan, I too am on the road to recovery. (After a “bout” with flu-like symptom(s)
Sam said, “By the way DCD, your January film noir series with the esteemed Alexander Coleman has started off with a bang! Great stuff!” Thank-you! Sam Juliano, for the “moral”
support! as usual…and the films. (Now that is great stuff too!)
dcd 😉
DCD, I am very sorry to hear you also were maligned and trust you are feeling better now. I spoke to Allan todays, and am confident is on the road to recovery. Thanks again!