COMING OUT OF THE SHADOWS: THE THIRD MAN (Part 2)

Without being exact forgeries, the films below follow in the footsteps of Carol Reed’s THE THIRD MAN:  BEAT THE DEVIL (1953), ON THE WATERFRONT (1954), SHOOT THE PIANO PLAYER (1960), CHARADE (1963), and THE DEPARTED (2006).  There are others, but I’m just taking a good bite out of these for now. 

[PLEASE NOTE:  SPOILERS AHEAD.  I will keep it to a minimum, but there’s no way to avoid everything.]

BEAT THE DEVIL (1953)

Humphrey Bogart (center), Gina Lollobrigida (right), Jennifer Jones (behind Bogart).

Directed by one of the greatest American directors, John Huston, this is a dark comedy starring Humphrey Bogart and an ensemble of unlikely characters — Gina Lollobrigida, Jennifer Jones, Peter Lorre, Robert Morley, Ivor Barnard, and Edward Underdown.  There’s even an appearance by Bernard Lee who memorably plays Sgt. Paine in THE THIRD MAN and is perhaps best known as “M” in the James Bond films. 

Though I’m a huge Bogart fan, this is one of his films that I didn’t quite take to for a very long time.  It’s been described as a spoof of his famous films THE MALTESE FALCON ((1941) and even CASABLANCA (1942).  However, it didn’t click for me, until I considered it in the context of THE THIRD MAN.

In BEAT THE DEVIL, Bogart, his wife (Lollobrigida), and Bogart’s partners in crime (Lorre, Morley, and Barnard) languish in an Italian town, waiting for a boat to Africa where they plan to score big on a uranium deal.  Also traveling on the boat to Africa is an English couple played by Edward Underdown and Jennifer Jones who has an unusual tendency to use the phrase “in point of fact”.

The film opens with a marching band carrying on clamorously and a narration by Bogart.  Though not as original as zither music, the marching band still forces a gaiety that won’t be entirely appropriate to the story as it progresses.  While Carol Reed’s opening narration for THE THIRD MAN wasn’t identified, Bogart’s voice is clearly recognizable to moviegoers and establishes a sardonic breeziness to the introduction.

BEAT THE DEVIL was originally a novel by James Helvick (real name Claud Cockburn) and published in 1951, two years after THE THIRD MAN’s release.  The husband played by Edward Underdown is named Harry Chelm and the name Harry creates an echo to Harry Lime.

Truman Capote and John Huston wrote the screenplay for BEAT THE DEVIL.  Humor is just as pervasive here as in THE THIRD MAN.  Jennifer Jones plays chess with her husband and remarks to Bogart, “Harry’s been all out of sorts today.  Usually he’s a wonderful loser.”  And then there’s this exchange when the Chelms first run into Bogart’s partners in the street:

MRS. CHELM:           We must be wary of those men.  They’re desperate characters.

MR. CHELM:              What makes you say that?

MRS. CHELM:            Not one of them looked at my legs.

The Chelms are later called “two very clever and dangerous antagonists.”  The look of the cast is so contrastingly suspicious as to revive the carnival atmosphere of THE THIRD MAN, and it still holds very true that the comedy and fun are all well and good, until someone gets hurt.  Mrs. Chelm has an affair with Bogart, while Lollobrigida flirts with Mr. Chelm.  But a murder attempt is made on board the ship to Africa and the passengers end up adrift on a lifeboat.  In Africa, a Scotland Yard man (Bernard Lee) corners them just as Bogart & Co. seem closest to pulling off their uranium scheme.

Motley crew (Peter Lorre, Marco Tulli, Ivor Barnad, Robert Morley).

Everyone is involved or becomes involved in some kind of racket.  Boat repairs, diamonds, minerals, real estate, love affairs — it’s all corrupted just like Vienna and its black market and enemies who work as friends.  Bogart, like Holly Martins, is flat broke.  They’re both Americans trying to make something happen on foreign land, but they’re not going to get very far because someone who’s supposed to be dead is going to ruin their plans.

ON THE WATERFRONT (1954)

Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint.

At the beginning of Elia Kazan’s ON THE WATERFRONT, a young man named Joey Doyle is lured to the roof of his building where he encounters thugs sent to push the young man over the edge to his death.  Marlon Brando plays Terry Malloy, the guy who lures Doyle to the roof, and he spends much of the film trying to hide his involvement.  As Terry later says, he didn’t know they were going to kill Doyle, “I just thought they was going to lean on him a little bit.”  Terry Malloy becomes the third man in a crucial scenario.  Revealing his identity will be a game changer to the resolution of the film.

In Carol Reed’s film, “the third man” is the one Joseph Cotten must find in order to learn the truth about Harry Lime.  The police don’t know about the third man, but they would desperately want him if they did.  The same goes for Terry Malloy.  Malloy will be pivotal in the case against Johnny Friendly, the union despot behind young Doyle’s death and corruption on New York’s waterfront.

Malloy also has something in common with Cotten’s character Holly Martins.  Both men have been slumming.  Martins is the author of cheap Western novelettes; Malloy who was once a prizefighter, now lazes about reading girlie magazines in the loft.  They both know they’re losers.  Martins calls himself “a hack writer who drinks too much and falls in love with girls.”  Malloy famously laments, “I coulda been a contender, instead of a bum which is what I am.”  They’re both hoping that the love of a good woman will change things.  Martins is infatuated with his best friend’s girl, Anna;  Malloy is in love with Joey Doyle’s sister, Edie (Eva Marie Saint).  Both women have very definite ideas of what they expect the men to do.  Anna doesn’t want Holly to betray Harry to the police.  Edie wants Terry to come forward with whatever he knows about Joey’s death.

Another big similarity between Terry Malloy and Holly Martins is that both of them are constantly asked to listen up and stay out of trouble.  Major Calloway tries to get Martins out of Vienna from the very start, but Martins stubbornly stays to learn more about his friend Harry.  Calloway says, “Death’s at the bottom of everything.  Leave death to the professionals.”  Anna also tells Holly not to get mixed up in what happens in Vienna.  Even Harry tells Holly, “You ought to leave this thing alone.”  But typical in these situations, when too many people tell you to stay out of it, you invariably stick your nose in.

Terry is told by Johnny Friendly to lay low and not to be a “cheese eater” (i.e. an informant).  These warnings are also laid down by Terry’s own brother Charley (Rod Steiger) who is Friendly’s right hand man.  At one point, Charley points a gun at Terry to emphasize the seriousness.  Disillusioned, Terry criticizes Charley for not watching out for him, particularly at a pivotal point in his fighting career.  Terry believes he could’ve been somebody; Charley failed him and now Terry has to go his own way.

Visually, WATERFRONT and THE THIRD MAN make fantastic use of location photography.  You feel like the action opens up and the city itself colludes with destiny.  One of the most iconic images in THE THIRD MAN is the shadow cast by Harry Lime running away down the dark streets.  Eva Marie Saint and Marlon Brando cast their own iconic shadows in WATERFRONT, when she and Terry run for the lives as a truck charges down on them.

Edie and Terry are chased down by a truck.

  

There’s brutal death and terrible reckoning in both WATERFRONT and THE THIRD MAN, but ultimately Terry Malloy has more power than Holly Martins to do some actual good.  It can’t be underestimated that Terry’s relationship with Edie transforms him.  His prospects improve with her in his life.  Holly Martins, however, can’t get Anna to forget her loyalty and love for Harry and ends up alone.

SHOOT THE PIANO PLAYER (1960)

Directed by François Truffaut, SHOOT THE PIANO PLAYER pays immediate homage to THE THIRD MAN with its opening credits.  The titles are superimposed over the interworkings of a piano being played.  This immediately calls to mind the famed opening credits of THE THIRD MAN, when we first hear zither music and the strings of the zither tremble as they’re plucked.

 

For Truffaut’s film, the piano music is misleadingly cheerful (as the zither is at the beginning of THE THIRD MAN).  The movie’s title, however, simultaneously suggests something darker.  This is followed by an opening sequence in which a man is running through the streets, in the dark, presumably being pursued.  It’s the old film noir fear that something is going to reach out from the dark and get you, which is certainly played out in THE THIRD MAN as well. 

Based on David Goodis’ novel “Down There” (1956), SHOOT THE PIANO PLAYER is about a shy man played by Charles Aznavour.  He is a pianist banging out popular tunes at a cheap bar.  When his troublemaking thief of a brother shows up on the run from two criminals, the pianist doesn’t want to get involved, but it’s too late.  Soon the criminals shadow the pianist, in the hope that he’ll lead them to his thieving brothers Chico and Richard.

The pianist has a third brother, Fido, who is still a boy.  Fido lives with the pianist and is also surveillanced by the criminals looking for Chico and Richard.  The boy evades the criminals by milk bombing the windshield of their car and running off.  Fido’s move is clever and even prankish.  It echoes that feeling in THE THIRD MAN of things being a fun game until someone is seriously injured.

Following the pianist (Charles Aznavour).  [Note the milk on the windshield.]

 

Later, Fido is kidnapped by the criminals, but his captivity seems harmless because he’s not crying or struggling.  In fact, Fido chats with the men as if they were his brothers.  As established in THE THIRD MAN, the irony holds true — our enemies relate to us on friendly terms. 

Like Holly Martins in THE THIRD MAN and Terry Malloy in ON THE WATERFRONT, the pianist is slumming in his job.  He’s playing in a bar, but he was once a rising concert performer.  The tragic death of someone close to him led to the shabby life he now leads.  And like Martins and Malloy, the pianist hopes that the love of a good woman will dig him out of his rut.  The pianist falls for the barmaid Lena, who knows his past and believes in him.  But their relationship is compromised by the pianist’s thieving brothers.  The people closest to the pianist — his brothers — corrupt his prospects. 

In THE THIRD MAN, Joseph Cotten arrived in Vienna to start fresh, counting on his best pal Harry to make him successful.  Instead, Cotten gets his hands dirty, betrays his friend, and has to fire a fatal shot.  Truffaut’s pianist will also end up a murderer, despite his best intentions, just like Holly Martins. 

Aznavour, as the pianist, reflects on the irony of being “a murderer in a family of thieves”.  The complicated nature of his life leads him to conclude that “someone could make a poem out of it — a comic one, for sure.”  It’s ridiculous and absurd as it was in THE THIRD MAN.  You’d laugh if you heard the story told in a bar, except that there are deadly consequences.

 

CHARADE (1963)

Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn.

Writer Graham Greene described THE THIRD MAN as a “comic thriller” and that’s exactly what CHARADE is.  You might not think that a film starring the ever enchanting Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant and directed by Stanley Donen (best known for his glorious musicals) would tread over Carol Reed’s noir territory so deftly and yet it does.

The opening credits to CHARADE kick off with a jazzy, mesmerizing theme by Henry Mancini.   The accompanying graphics radiate spirals, mazes, and misdirection — the twisty nature of the film is thus established with verve.  You feel the sure hand of the people behind the film.  They’re very confident of the product they’re delivering, just as Carol Reed & Co. were with THE THIRD MAN.  This is all before you see one frame of the film’s stars.

Our former Holly Golightly, Audrey Hepburn, has the Holly Martins role in CHARADE.  She’s married to a man, Charles Lampert, she ought to know intimately, but it turns out that she didn’t know him at all.  He’s a thief being pursued by the ruthless men he’s doublecrossed.  While Hepburn is away, Lampert sells all their possessions and runs off.  Unfortunately, Lampert is murdered before anyone can get the truth out of him.  By default, Hepburn is then plagued by the men her husband betrayed as well as the police — all of them searching for the money Lampert stole.

Lampert’s influence on Hepburn’s life is more comic and indifferent than Harry Lime’s part in Holly Martins’ which is more tragic.  Hepburn admits that she didn’t love Lampert and was going to seek a divorce.  She finds Lampert’s secretive behavior off-putting and not to be trusted.  Holly Martins, however, loves his friend and wants to go on believing in him.

A funeral is the setting in both CHARADE and THE THIRD MAN for Audrey Hepburn and Joseph Cotton to meet the eccentric men who will turn out to be their enemies.  The funeral for Lampert is attended by Hepburn, Hepburn’s girlfriend for support, a French police inspector (cutting his fingernails), and three mysterious men (Tex, Scobie, and Gideon) who each approach the open casket and test the body to be sure Lampert is truly dead.  Their violation of what should be a somber and sacred proceeding is darkly humorous.  We’re scared of the men (Scobie, in particular, has a metal hook for a hand), but still keenly drawn in by curiosity.  The presence of the French police inspector suggests that more danger lies ahead.  Trevor Howard as Major Calloway attends the funeral in THE THIRD MAN with the hope of unearthing the truth, despite the death of his primary suspect as well.

Menacing characters (James Coburn as Tex, George Kennedy as Scobie, and Ned Glass as Gideon.

While Calloway tells Holly Martins to keep out of trouble, Hepburn is recruited by the CIA (specifically Walter Matthau) to help find the missing money stolen by her late husband.  She’s reluctant at first, but hardly has a choice since she’s constantly menaced by Tex, Scobie, and Gideon.  Cary Grant steps in to help her and, of course, to provide a romantic love interest.  Hepburn is openly attracted to him, just as Joseph Cotton expresses interest in Alida Valli in THE THIRD MAN.  Grant and Valli play it cool for the most part.  For Grant, this was an off-screen request not to appear inappropriately lecherous, since he was 25 years Hepburn’s senior.  Valli, on the other hand, was playing Anna Schmidt’s fidelity to her previous lover, Harry Lime.

In CHARADE, the origin of the stolen money goes back to the Second World War when Lampert, Scobie, Tex, and Gideon were in the army together and assigned to deliver gold to the French Resistance.  They hid the money instead and planned to retrieve it after the war was over and to split it amongst the group.  Lampert, however, cheated and got to the money before them.  Harry Lime’s racketeering is related to post-WW2 conditions in Vienna when medicine is scarce.  That the criminality is connected back to the Second World War lends significance to the films.  The crimes seem out of the ordinary and to victimize not just a small group of people but the greater cause of the war.

Also channeling THE THIRD MAN, CHARADE offers a carnival lineup of characters—the mustached French inspector; the droopy dog CIA man Walter Matthau; the tall, lanky Tex; the short, balding Gideon; and the burly, pirate-armed Scobie — that contrasts with our debonair couple of Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn.  And if side-show physiognomy isn’t enough, one of CHARADE’s pivotal settings is the merry-go-round at the Jardin des Champs-Elysees with Henry Mancini’s theme played as carousel music.  The Jardin is full of people, unlike the abandoned amusement park grounds and the iconic ferris wheel where Joseph Cotten meets up with Harry.  But the sense that things are on the verge of tilting or reeling out of control is present in both films.

There exists a fifth man who was originally with Lampert and Co. when they first stole the gold.  This fifth man must be found just as the Third Man must be found in connection with Harry Lime.  The appearance of the fifth man in CHARADE and the titular character in THE THIRD MAN will change the destinies of all involved.

While the cast of THE THIRD MAN seems to have the run of Vienna, the characters in CHARADE are set loose in Paris.  Holly Martins chases the third man through wet, cobbled streets and then below ground through the sewers.  Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant have their own chase underground in the subway station and then above ground by the Palais Royale where they’re joined by Walter Matthau.

I should disclose that Stanley Donen was quoted in Barry Paris’ biography of Audrey Hepburn, admitting that he wanted to make CHARADE in the vein of Alfred Hitchcock’s NORTH BY NORTHWEST (1959).  CHARADE has often been described as “the best Hitchcock film that Hitchcock never made.”  But Hitchcock’s style is very studied, and I think there’s more of Carol Reed’s freshness in CHARADE that perhaps Donen unconsciously aspired to.

THE DEPARTED (2006)

Martin Scorsese is often associated with championing the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger.  Scorsese established the Film Foundation which supported the preservation of Powell and Pressburger’s LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP (1943) and THE RED SHOES (1948).  Scorsese’s longtime editor, Thelma Schoonmaker, is also the widow of Michael Powell.

But there's no denying that Scorsese is a huge fan of Carol Reed.  Apparently, as a film student at New York University, Scorsese wrote a treatise on THE THIRD MAN, although his professor dismissed the film with the words: “Forget this, it’s just [a] thriller.”

Scorsese didn’t forget THE THIRD MAN and its influence permeates THE DEPARTED.  The film is about a hood (Matt Damon) who infiltrates the Boston State Police as one of their own and a police cadet (Leonardo DiCaprio) who goes deep undercover and joins up with Boston mob boss Frank Costello (played by Jack Nicholson and patterned after Boston’s own notorious “Whitey” Bulger).  The film is adapted from a terrific Hong Kong original, INFERNAL AFFAIRS (2002).  But according to IMDb.com, Scorsese didn’t know that until after he agreed to direct THE DEPARTED.  He also refrained from watching the Hong Kong version until completing his own film.

Like THE THIRD MAN, Scorsese’s film opens with documentary-like footage of the city (in this case, Boston) and with a voiceover narration.  Jack Nicholson provides the narration and he delivers his character's philosophy as advice to young ears, “No one gives it to you, you have to take it.”  And more ominously, he asserts, “When you’re facing a loaded gun, what’s the difference [if it’s a cop or criminal]?”  Like Harry Lime, Nicholson is enamored of what he has to say.  Harry Lime questions Holly Martins about the insignificance of people and one’s supposed concern for them.  From his ferris wheel vantage point, Lime challenges Martins to care, if the dots of people below disappeared.  The message is clear — right or wrong, it’s “me first” and let the other suckers take the fall.

Mick Brown, in a March 2010 article for the Telegraph, wrote about Scorsese’s understanding of corrupted worlds:

It is tempting to think that Scorsese shares [Graham] Greene’s view of human nature as 'not black and white, but black and grey’. Talking of his film THE DEPARTED, he once said that what attracted him to the story was that 'Good and bad become very blurred. It’s a world where morality doesn’t exist, good doesn’t exist, so you can’t even sin any more as there’s nothing to sin against. There’s no redemption of any kind.’

Despite the presence of law and authority, crime persists.  That’s very clear in THE THIRD MAN as well.  The man who is doing what’s right (Holly Martins) is actually doing a very dirty job, and it’s hard to see him as better or different from the criminal.  At one point in THE DEPARTED, DiCaprio questions if he can be a murderer: “What’s the difference?”  He’s a cop, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be guilty.

Scorsese punctuates Nicholson’s narration and an extended opening sequence setting up Damon and DiCaprio’s back stories with a tough, grinding score.  In an interview by Fred Topel for CinemaBlend.com, Scorsese says:

“I worked out with Howard Shore that in a way all the characters are sort of entwined in a web and almost as if they tried to get away from each other, they're tied together almost like in a dance of death in a way.…Then I wanted to play on guitars. I love guitars, I think of great guitar scores like the wonderful film by Irving Lerner called Murder by Contract with Vince Edwards has a great guitar score, of course the famous zither score in The Third Man. And then Howard and I had sort of worked it out, acoustic guitars and electric guitars different strings, all sorts of different things. When the sound kicked into electric, it was very strong.”

The score comes out more Pogues-esque (rough and Irish) than zithering (playful and Viennese), but the idea of the music drawing us into a story that’s too clever for the characters’ own good is a binding force for THE DEPARTED and THE THIRD MAN.

There’s a funeral at the start and finish of both films.  Early on in THE DEPARTED, we see that DiCaprio’s mother dies and Frank Costello sends flowers to the funeral.  Though never fully explored as a paternity issue, it’s suggested to the audience that Costello could easily have fathered DiCaprio.  Thus, the irony of their closeness is made even more complex and a film noir specialty is reinforced — the one closest to you is your nemesis.

Another film noir hallmark is the horror of something coming out of the dark to get you.  THE THIRD MAN plays in the shadows and sewers for the greatest suspense, but a modern film noir comes out of the dark.  The danger is now pervasive and around the clock.  Mark Wahlberg says of the undercover agents he’s supervising in THE DEPARTED: “My people are out there.  They’re like [f---ing] Indians.  You’re not going to see them.”

Only one pivotal female role exists in THE THIRD MAN and THE DEPARTED.  Anna Schmidt is Harry Lime’s lover whom Holly Martins pines after.  In THE DEPARTED, Vera Farmiga plays a shrink who unwittingly becomes involved with both Damon and DiCaprio.  Like Anna, Vera is a woman who makes fast relationships with unreliable lovers.

There are two key moments in THE DEPARTED that pay homage to THE THIRD MAN, while also having their own amazing power within the context of Scorsese’s film.  The first is a scene in which DiCaprio follows Nicholson, hoping to find the mole in the State Police Department.  He follows a man (who we know is Damon) down dark, wet alleys.  It’s an intensely dangerous moment.  If either man sees and identifies the other, their covers are blown and all hell breaks loose.  As I recall, this scene was filmed in daylight in INFERNAL AFFAIRS.  But for THE DEPARTED, we get a great night stalker atmosphere and two shadows, reminiscent of you-know-what, are cast upon the alley walls.

Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio cast shadows.

The second key tribute to THE THIRD MAN in Scorsese’s film is the funeral (or after-funeral) at the end.  Again, I’m sorry to spoil things for anyone who hasn’t seen either film, but let it be known that a reverse “walk of shame” exists in both films, and in both cases, it’s a genius moment.  In THE THIRD MAN, Anna walks down long path towards us.  And the end of that walk, Holly Martins waits.  He’s still hopeful to win her.  It’s his last chance, and we know the film is ending.  Anna walks straight ahead, eyes forward.  And when she gets to Martins, she doesn’t stop, she doesn’t look his way.  Her expression is stoic and angry at the same time.  She keeps walking, until she’s out of frame.  Martins lights a cigarette and tosses away the match in defeat.  I call it the reverse walk of shame because it’s Martins, not Anna, who is humiliated and feels guilty for what he’s done.

Joseph Cotten gets no love from Alida Valli in THE THIRD MAN.

 

In THE DEPARTED, Matt Damon appeals to Vera Farmiga at the funeral.  She knows that he’s the mole and that DiCaprio was killed because of him.  Despite their former relationship and despite the fact that she’s pregnant, she doesn’t want anything to do with Damon.  He lamely asks, “What about the baby?”, but she walks on, not looking back.

Vera Farmiga walks away from Matt Damon in THE DEPARTED.

 We’ll always be running after the Harry Limes of the world, the charismatic ones who promise opportunities and betray us at the same time.  It was Carol Reed who showed us why the chase and the man are so compelling.  Kazan, Donen, Truffaut, and Scorsese were just as enraptured and found a way to pay tribute to a master craftsman like Reed.

###

SOURCES:

Brown, Mick.  “Martin Scorsese Interview For Shutter Island”, The Telegraph, March 7, 2010.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/filmmakersonfilm/7366950/Martin-Scorsese-interview-for-Shutter-Island.html

Brown, Phil.  “Essential Cinema: The Third Man”, Toronto Standard, May 14, 2012.

 http://torontostandard.com/culture/essential-cinema-the-third-man

Topel, Fred. “Interview: Martin Scorsese”, CinemaBlend.com, October 2, 2006.

http://www.cinemablend.com/new/Interview-Martin-Scorsese-3542.html

COMING OUT OF THE SHADOWS: THE THIRD MAN (PART 1)

The first time you see THE THIRD MAN (1949) by director Carol Reed, you’re tempted to believe that you discovered it and no one else knows how fantastically good it is.  But smarter, better-informed people than you and me are already in the know.

Mamoun Hassan, international film educator and former head of the British Film Institute, taught a Masterclass at the International Film School in Cuba earlier this year, citing the best directors of British cinema and urging greater awareness for Carol Reed:

“You will have heard of David Lean because he has his champions – one of them a very famous champion: Steven Spielberg.  You will have heard of Michael Powell and [Emeric] Pressburger, [they have] a champion and that is Martin Scorsese.  And Hitchcock…doesn’t need any champions because … most directors want to make a Hitchcockian film.  He’s constantly being re-examined so the filmmakers are keeping him in the public eye.  That leaves Carol Reed.  Most of you don’t know Carol Reed…He needs his champions.”

Director Peter Bogdanovich, in the introduction to the Criterion Collection release of THE THIRD MAN, conjectured on what holds back popular perception of Reed:

“Carol Reed is one of those underrated directors who was highly thought of during this lifetime, but since he passed away, nobody much talks about him.  Probably because the last few films he made were not among his best, even though they were among his most successful. “

My own belief is that Carol Reed is difficult to rip off.  His work in THE THIRD MAN is so specific, and yet, you can’t easily recreate it.  He makes David Lean, Powell and Pressburger, and Hitchcock — all of them brilliant craftsmen and endlessly skilled— seem overtly cribable.  Lean is your man for landscapes; Powell and Pressburger give you storybook-like drama in saturated colors; Hitchcock is a master of suspense.  Carol Reed, however, said he tried not to repeat himself with his films and thus avoided set categories for his style:  “I don’t think a director should stand out…The audience should be unconscious that the damned thing’s been directed at all.”

[PLEASE NOTE:  SPOILERS AHEAD.  I will keep it to a minimum, but there’s no way to avoid everything.]

The more I summarize the story of THE THIRD MAN, the less you actually need.  It’s better to watch it yourself.  Still, it’s useful enough to tell you this much: an American named Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) arrives in post-WW2 Vienna to reconnect with his old friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles), only to find that Harry may be involved in some treachery.  To complicate matters, Martins also falls for Harry’s girl, Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli).

There is a sense from the very beginning that this story is something of a lark.  The zither music underscoring the opening credits is largely responsible for that.  It sounds like we’re about to embark on a musical comedy, not a film noir of disreputable criminals and ill-fated protagonists (which is what THE THIRD MAN really is).  The film’s opening also employs a voiceover narration to introduce Vienna and the multiple foreign powers controlling it.  The narrator (never identified in the film, though it’s actually Carol Reed himself) seemingly then digresses from generalities to tell us about Holly Martins who arrives “happy as a lark and without a cent”.  The impression is that we’re in for an amusing story, one that can be told over drinks at the pub.

For a while, it is fun to play detective with Holly Martins who’s trying to find out the real state of affairs involving his pal Harry Lime.  There are interviews with shady characters, mysterious deaths and disappearances, chases down wet, cobblestoned streets at night, and time spent trying to prove an irritatingly self-assured British major (Trevor Howard) wrong.   But you’ll find yourself thinking of the old warning given by supervising adults to children: it’s all fun and games, until someone gets hurt. 

Martins certainly comes up against the hard truth, but the tone of the film remains a very intriguing thing.  Anton Karas continues to play zither music, but not the jaunty, cheerful theme of the opening credits.  The music quivers, instead, with embarrassment and resignation as Holly Martins faces the truth and his impotence to make things better.  The irony of his life is probably amusing to outsiders, but for him, it’s humiliating and disillusioning.

The cosmic joke of Martins’ life is also paralleled in Carol Reed’s depiction of Vienna. The city is not a place where dreams come true — rather, it’s here that they come to be torn away by rough reality.  Vienna provides a circus-variety of faces and characters.  The porter at Harry Lime’s apartment building charmingly stumbles with his English but reveals deadly details to Martins that the police don’t know about; an adorable chubby-cheeked toddler persists in pointing Martins out as a murderer; and an impossibly-old man attempts to sell balloons to the police during a tense stakeout.  At one point, there’s even a uniformed man walking around with a Hitler mustache.

This carnival nightmare atmosphere is essential to Carol Reed’s genius.  A serious game is being played, but the protagonists lose their bearings and maneuver clumsily.  Reed famously uses crooked (dutch) camera angles to show how off-kilter things are.  In one particular scene (reminiscent of one in Hitchcock’s THE 39 STEPS), Holly Martins must give a talk about being a writer.  It’s a nightmare scenario for any writer to be put on the spot and made to justify themselves in front of a strange audience.  It’s made worse for Martins because he’s trying to make sense of a crime and one of the criminals is questioning him.  Reed duly films Joseph Cotten at a cocked angle.

Irreverent black humor is worked into the dialogue, throughout the film.  Holly Martins is taken aback by the British manner of speaking about death:  “Is that what you say to people after death?  ‘Goodness, that’s awkward?’ ”  And later, when Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) wants Martins safely out of the way, he says, “I don’t want another murder in this case and you were born to be murdered.” 

This brand of humor works because of the world writer Graham Greene created with this story and others in his oeuvre — the cloak and dagger, the ironies, the self doubt, the would-be and aborted romances, and perhaps most importantly, being too clever for your own good.  Other directors got a fair approximation of Graham’s virtuosity, but Carol Reed is the director who nailed it and got the best mileage.  Just prior to THE THIRD MAN, Green and Reed successfully collaborated on THE FALLEN IDOL (1948), but it’s THE THIRD MAN that creates the greatest frisson in the imagination.

There’s no doubt that Carol Reed set a standard that influenced other filmmakers.  Next time, I’d like to talk about several films that demonstrate some of the flair for irony, criminality, humor, and a sense of place so indelibly immortalized by THE THIRD MAN.

###

Sources:

Mamoun Hassan website:

http://moviemasterclass.wordpress.com/reviews-2/

February 2013 – Introduction to The Third Man Masterclass

(International Film School, Cuba)

http://vimeo.com/61082788

DVD:

“The Third Man” [2-Disc Edition], Criterion Collection, 2007.

Book:

Drazin, Charles, In Search of The Third Man, Limelight Editions, 1999.

FILM NOIR: A PERVERSE VALENTINE

I want to write about THE THIRD MAN next time, but we should have a little discussion about film noir first.

Film noir is a French phrase to describe the cynical, tough-talking crime films of the 1940s and 50s.  It literally translates to “dark film”, meaning that America was churning out stories that didn’t have the happy endings made so glossy and artificially satisfying by the Hollywood studios.

The dark stories were born out of the rise of urban living in the 20^th century.  People came with the hope of making it big in the city, even though the odds were stacked up against them everywhere.  Every person and every thing represented a racket working against you — the government, the cops, the crooks, your boss, your spouse, and your so-called friends.  They squeezed money, love, blood, sweat and tears out of you and left you bitter and on the skids.

The “Czar of Noir” Eddie Muller writes in his book DARK CITY that “…film noirs were the only movies that offered bracing respite from sugarcoated dogma, Hollywood-style.  They weren’t trying to lull you or sell you or reassure you — they insisted that you wake up to the reality of a corrupt world.”

The cynicism and brutal truths intensified after World War 2, when men returned from the virtual hell of fighting to the now surreal normalities of the home front.  Surviving the Depression and the war changed men and women and had them scrabbling to redefine their roles in life.  It would be a disillusioning transformation.

In a great lecture a couple of years ago (August 18, 2011 to be exact), the aforementioned Muller interviewed author Dennis Lehane at Herbst Theatre in San Francisco.  Muller described film noir as “working class tragedy”.  Lehane noted that “in noir, [people] fall from the curb” and not from great heights.  Both are brilliant observations I wish I’d come up with myself.

However, my earliest personal take on film noir was this:  the whole genre was a beautifully perverse valentine to Humphrey Bogart.  Bogart was a man’s man, but he wasn’t John Wayne in stature or handsome like Cary Grant.  Instead, Bogart had a receding hairline requiring a toupee, spoke with a lisp, and always looked dog-years-older than his actual age.  He spent the first decade of his career in gangster films and getting shot down in the last reel.  These were ignoble deaths with no one left to regret his demise.

Things finally turned around for Bogart with starring roles in HIGH SIERRA and THE MALTESE FALCON (both released in 1941).  He was playing another gangster-type in HIGH SIERRA, but his portrayal of Roy Earle was excitingly nuanced and even sympathetic.  Earle wanted enough money to retire and get out of the crime racket and a nice girl to settle down with, but life just wouldn’t let him have it.  These themes would fuel nearly every film noir to come.  Bogart comes to a punishing finish in HIGH SIERRA, but unlike his earlier films, he had a love interest (Ida Lupino) and the audience lamenting his failure.

THE MALTESE FALCON is often regarded as the first bona fide film noir.  Dashiell Hammett’s original novel had been adapted twice for the screen, before they got it right with Bogart, directed by John Huston (who had written the screenplay for HIGH SIERRA).  Bogart’s casual cool as detective Sam Spade just barely reigns in the volatile and ruthless man underneath.  It’s a stunning balance of tempers and Bogart’s performance is a revelation.

Humphrey Bogart faces off with Mary Astor in THE MALTESE FALCON (1941).

A pattern was established with THE MALTESE FALCON that became the DNA for the noir genre — the motley cast of characters; danger lurking in shadows; a twisty plot driven by competing motivations; a wicked, world-wise sense of humor; and indelible style in clothes and manner.  What would noir be without men in the fedoras, veiled women, and cigarettes burning?  When his client Brigid O’Shaughnessy (Mary Astor) flutters with a school-girl manner, Spade calls her out: “You’re good. Chiefly your eyes, I think, and that throb you get in your voice…”  

Even the supporting characters have their bits of business.  Punctilious dandy Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) must have his gardenia-scented calling cards and walking stick.  As Kasper Gutman, Sydney Greenstreet radiates flair with a booming laugh and a penchant for “talking with men who love to talk.”

What sets film noir apart from the tradition of gangster and crime films before it is debatable.  For me, these are the deciding earmarks:

1)  The aspect of horror. 

There’s something grotesque in the protagonist’s pursuits and something stalking him in the dark, ready to pounce savagely. 

In THE MALTESE FALCON, Spade is involved a woman he can’t trust and pursuing a treasure that kills everyone who comes in contact with it. 

And vividly, in the carny noir classic, NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947), Tyrone Power is a smooth-talking con artist who climbs his way to the top, only to fall to the depths of becoming the alcoholic and half-mad sideshow attraction known as “The Geek”.

2)  The nemesis. 

The worst enemies are the ones closest to our main character, including the protagonist himself/herself.  And in the final moments, a lover or best friend can be the one who fires the fatal bullet.  In noir, it’s important that reckoning is delivered before the cops get there. 

This is beautifully played out in another quintessential noir classic OUT OF THE PAST (1947) starring Jane Greer and Robert Mitchum.  Greer plays one of the all-time, doe-eyed femme fatales who ensnares Mitchum, only to be betrayed by him and drawn into her own spectacular crash.

Killer best friends are at the core of THE THIRD MAN which we’ll go into next time.   

3)  Confusion. 

By the end of a noir film, we find ourselves re-examining and questioning the outcome. What could’ve happened to make things different for the characters?  How did we the audience get here?  Is life really that desperately bad?  A conventional crime story would end with less ambiguity.  Transgressors must be punished by the law or the cops, and there are no alternative outcomes.

In Billy Wilder’s noir masterpiece, DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), Fred MacMurray’s character narrates how the whole crazy, complicated story came to be.  Even as the active protagonist of the film, he needs to think it all over and attempt to make sense of it.  He got suckered into murder for the love (or rather the lust) of a woman.  Not just any woman, but a knockout Barbara Stanwyck. 

This leads me to another assertion — Barbara Stanwyck is the other reason why film noir exists.  It’s a genre honoring her as much as it does Bogart.  Throughout the 1930s, Stanwyck churned out films featuring tough dames who knew the score.  She worked with directors like Frank Capra and William Wellman who understood and captured her ferocious tenacity and blazing intelligence.  But the resolutions of those dramas in the 1930s imposed happy endings or punished her as a moral necessity.  Stanwyck needed film noir to fulfill what she started.

Barbara Stanwyck gives Fred MacMurray an eyeful in DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944).

Watching DOUBLE INDEMNITY, you can see Stanwyck manipulating Fred MacMurray with a turn of her body, enigmatically masking her emotions behind sunglasses, or staring calmly ahead during the murder that she carefully plotted with MacMurray.  She doesn’t ever have to break a sweat.  He’s doing all the heavy lifting and she’s getting exactly what she wants.

Stanwyck’s beauty tricks in DOUBLE INDEMNITY are resurrected in film noir culture over and over — the overdone styling of her hair; the heavy lipstick; those tarty heels that MacMurray sees tripping down the stairs, seducing him; and the little outfits alternating between tight sweaters and luscious glamour.  As smart and clever as he is, MacMurray still can’t save himself from this siren.

Film noir is about these driven women who outsmart their men.  It’s about men who don’t look like matinee idols.  It’s a world you have to talk your way in and out of.  You have to understand the cosmic joke, the cosmic irony of life.  Danger is right at your hip like a gun, and shooting yourself in the foot is inevitable.  Having the gun taken away and used against you is also par for the course.  Nearly every noir film is a tribute to Bogart and Stanwyck in some way.  See for yourselves.  Audiences of the 1940s and 50s never got over them and neither will you.

ON THE RISE

“Yes,” I said, “I am a rising character: once an old lady’s companion,

then a nursery-governess, now a school teacher.” 

— Excerpt from Charlotte Brontë’s novel, VILLETTE

Bronte’s heroine Lucy Snowe declares herself to be a rising character, one who has risen from humble beginnings and on a path that is perhaps unforeseen by others.  Her assertion is, indeed, valiant and worthy of our admiration.

This blog will spotlight the best stories driven by rising characters, whether in literature or film, onscreen and off. 

Consider that one of the best cinematic experiences is French director Abel Gance’s NAPOLEON.  It is a silent film that is over five hours in length and rarely seen because it requires three screens for its spectacular finale.  There are three pivotal rising characters attached to this film — Abel Gance for his visionary and passionate filmmaking, Napoleon Bonaparte as portrayed by Albert Dieudonné (surely one of the most awkwardly sexy and yet dynamic figures ever), and historian Kevin Brownlow who has literally spent his lifetime piecing the film together, after it was artistically mangled to pieces (in the interest of distribution and commercial appeal) following its initial debut.

Albert Dieudonné leads the way as NAPOLEON (1927).

Consider why Jane Austen’s novels and their screen adaptations strike such a chord with audiences.  Austen was a spinster living in relative isolation, but she also possessed an unstoppable genius.  Her heroines create a standard by which we judge our hearts and our place in the world.  They are perhaps defined by money and social position, but have none of the superficiality of modern life (this means you Reality TV; and you Social Media) that obscures true feelings and their best selves.

Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFadyen lift our hearts 

in PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005).

Consider Mr. Fredricksen and Russell in UP.  Literally, they are both on the rise, when a house is held aloft and transported to South America via helium balloons.  Fredricksen is an elderly man, widowed, and completely on the outs with active society.  The authorities even order him to a retirement home.  Russell is essentially an orphaned boy, coping with the absence of his father (perpetually away on business) and his birth mother.  This isn’t just another odd-couple-road picture, starring an outrageous comedian and a bona fide leading actor.  UP is about an old man and a Japanese American boy scout.  You might ask why mentioning Russell’s ethnicity is important.  It isn’t, but, then again, when was the last time you saw an Asian American in a leading part in a major release?  UP may be animated, but it’s also an Oscar winner that is easily recognized by millions of people.

Russell and Mr. Fredricksen get carried away in UP (2009).

We should all consider ourselves rising characters.  Because life is hard.  Man, is it hard.  Be a hero to yourself and to other people.  See the world as much as you can in person.  And when you can’t, then see the world through the lens of the stories that are told.  Some of those stories will break your heart, but they are transformative.  They reach beyond boundaries and speak to our humanity.  Don’t wait to be told; don’t wait to be served.  Belly up to the table and bring your curiosity and your heart.  They will serve you well.