
By: Vickie J. Rubinson
In "The Third Man"--probably the greatest British thriller of the postwar era--director Carol Reed and screenwriter Graham Greene set a fable of moral corruption in a world of near-Byzantine visual complexity: the streets and ruins of occupied Vienna. It is a Vienna far removed from the rollicking erotics of Ernst Lubitsch or the wistful elegance and melancholy beauty of Max Ophuls.
Decadence and rot have seeped into the city's very world, poisoned it, left almost nothing unstained. This Vienna is a movie milieu as densely evocative and haunting as "Casablanca" or "Morocco"--yet unlike them, it is primarily the real Vienna, the real streets, the real rubble: shot by Reed in such a striking style that it takes on a patina of nightmare.
The tale unwinds with a naive and foolishly romantic American novelist, Holly Martins, who pursues the murderers of his best friend, Harry Lime; spars with the cynical British police major, Calloway; hunts for the mysterious "third man" who witnessed Harry's death and falls hopelessly and unrequitedly in love with Harry's mistress, Anna. Finally, in two symbolic settings-- a ferris wheel towering above the city and the shadowy chaos of the sewers--Holly comes face to face with the supreme evil, the supreme betrayal: both Harry's and his own.
"The Third Man" is one of those rare films that captured its audience immediately and was regarded as a classic almost from it's first release. Graham Greene's script based on his novel, is a brilliant evocation of the urban battleground of good and evil, with just the right proportions of drama, atmosphere, action, rich character and tense construction.
Because the two great set pieces in "The Third Man"--the ferris wheel confrontation and the chase through the sewers of Vienna--both revolve around Orson Welles. Reed the director, is the hero and dominating influence--insisting that it be shot in Vienna, insisting that Welles play Harry Lime, discovering Anton Karas and his zither in a tiny beer and sausage restaurant and finally rejecting even Graham Greene's suggestion of a climatic rapprochement between Anna and Holly.
Reed assembled and marshaled a brilliantly talented company as by the power of his own vision. Together he and Greene and Welles, Cotten, Karas, Krasker, Korda and all the others--created a portrait of postwar corruption and the death of idealism that has lodged ever since in our collective consciousness. Together they made a rich, moody masterpiece of guilt, love and ambivalent redemption.