In most of my posts I've scratched around near the surface looking for some basic philosophic premise. Whether I'm sometimes looking for something that isn't there or perhaps simply missing the point is irrelevant to me. Each movie I've written about has affected me in some way, and my writing about them is simply me trying to sort out why they affected me a certain way. Sometimes they overwhelm me with emotion, and sometimes they make me step back and reexamine my beliefs. Other movies, however, have a goal that isn't so philosophical, but rather to create a feeling of wonder. Perhaps the makers of a film would disagree with me, but creating a sense of wonder in a person is a rare thing. Something that all directors should strive for, but few succeed. It requires such precision with every shot and every piece of music. It's the actors hitting the right emotions, the scenery, the prop that fits perfectly into a story. It's the feeling I had when first watching The Lord of the Rings, or 2001:A Space Odyssey. It's what James Cameron spent 300 million dollars trying to do in Avatar, and It's the feeling I most recently felt when watching "The Third Man."
The movie takes place in a post-war Vienna, and was filmed exclusively on location. The city looks torn down and ragged, and the opening narration informs us that the moral character of the town is also in ruins. The city is divided into four parts for each major nationality, and in the center are the international police, who are outnumbered and outwitted by the black market. After the introduction to Vienna, we are introduced to the main character, Holly Martins, who is in town to visit an old college friend named Harry Lime. It turns out, however, that his friend has recently died. From there the plot follows the twists and turns which might be expected from a suspense movie, but there is much more going on in this movie than a typical 40s or 50s thriller. The movie shines in both its cinematography and in its score. The score is primarily jazz guitar, but it sounds almost as though the guitarist is strumming with a dagger instead of a pick. At first that guitarist might seem scary, but sometimes he's funny. He's a paid musician in a public space playing his instrument with a lethal weapon, and surely that can't be good for the guitar. But, if you get close to him, you might find you nerves becoming frayed as harsh notes echo with undertones of danger and fear (that analogy might make no sense whatsoever, but I can't get it out of my head). Here's the theme, it starts at about 55 seconds in.
I'll try not to give away anymore of the film (everything I've mentioned happens in the first few minutes), because I wouldn't want to ruin any of it. But if you do watch it, pay attention to the camera. Most of the time you spend watching the actors at angles, as though the camera had just been knocked off its tripod from a nearby bomb explosion. Every part of the movie screams with the pains and nihilism of a city ravaged by war, and the remaining people living with the guilt of surviving. Still clinging onto life and wealth even if they don't know why. In the midst of this is a cheery visiting American who writes westerner novels and drinks too much.
As the movie climaxes, and the famous scenes build up one after another, we reach, perhaps the pinnacle of the movie in the last shot. It's a long one, and stands against the rest of the movie as the camera sits unmoving and parallel to the ground framed by a line of trees going off into the horizon on either side. I won't put the clip in because it reveals something of the end, and if you don't go out of your way to see any other movie I write about, see this one. Other than being an almost perfect movie, the Third Man feels like the parent of Hitchcock's North by Northwest, which itself fathered nearly every action cliche that exists today. Also it has this gem of a quote said by Orson Wells.
It's only one of many great lines. I'll shut up about it now. Next time you're in the mood for a fun romp through a war torn city with a twinge of despair, Netflix this movie or rent it from a library. It'll grab you from the overture, and won't let you go until you can do nothing but say "wow" after the final scene.
P.S. I don't want to say that there isn't any philosophical merit here, it's just that I didn't love this movie for what it 'meant' to me, but for the sheer pleasure of watching it. The same is true of 2001, but the end of that movie does make it difficult not to ask, "wtf is this movie about. "
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