The Third Man

The first time I sat down to watch The Third Man, I was struck by how incongruous the soundtrack was.  It's a fine soundtrack and I like the main theme, but it just didn't feel like it matched the film at all.  When I think of film noir, the zither is not an instrument that comes immediately to mind.

Over the years, as I've watched and re-watched The Third Man, I've grown to enjoy the contrast of tone the zither provides in this film.  Regardless of how much you like the soundtrack, though, you have to admit that scoring this movie with a zither was a distinctive choice.

Holly Martin (Joseph Cotten), a none-too-successful writer of American Western dime store novels, has just arrived in post-World War II Vienna to meet up with his childhood friend, Harry Lime.  Harry has offered Holly a job, which is good because he has just about zero dollars.  Unfortunately, Harry died just the other day; he was killed by a car when crossing the street.  After the funeral, Holly is approached by someone claiming to be a friend of Harry's, who offers to pay for Holly's flight home.  Similarly, the local British MPs seem keen to ship Holly back home, too.  Since he has no money and no prospects for making any, Holly is ready to leave --- he just wants to commiserate with Harry's grieving girlfriend, Anna (Alida Valli), first and get a clear picture of his pal's later life.

Commiserate, be a creeper --- to-may-toe, to-mah-toe

When he's at Anna's apartment, which is where Harry was leaving when he died, Holly starts to smell a rat.  Harry's pal who offered Holly a way home had said that he and another man had carried a dying Harry out of the street and that Harry's last wish had been to make sure Holly and Anna were taken care of.  But the superintendent of Anna's building caught the aftermath of the accident from his window and claimed that Harry had obviously died instantly and that there had been a third man helping remove the body from the street.  Why would anyone go out of their way to lie about this?  Unless, of course, Harry's death was not an accident at all...!  With that thought, Holly takes it upon himself to uncover the conspiracy surrounding Harry's death and find that third man.

"You're probably not the third man, but I'd like to do some more inspecting"

For the most part, I don't think the acting in The Third Man is anything terribly special.  Nobody is bad, but there is only one truly great character in this film.  Unfortunately, that character is not Holly; thus, Joseph Cotten's acting here takes a back seat to the thankless task of propelling the plot.  Cotten turns out a solid performance --- aside from his unfortunately cartoonish drunk scene --- but his innocent character was never intended to be the focus of this film.

Tip to appear drunk: Don't maintain the flawless quaff

I liked Alida Valli quite a bit more; her best moments are when she is at her coldest, but I also appreciated how well she played a character that does not follow traditional movie logic.  While those two have the most screen time, the star of the film is, without a doubt, Orson Welles.  He is a blast to watch, whether it be when he is being charming and enigmatic or just a soulless douchebag.

Or a cross between the two

It's funny; when I think of Orson Welles, I think of him primarily as a director.  That isn't an insult to his acting ability, but I think his history as a maverick filmmaker generally overshadows his acting work.  The Third Man is a great example of just how good Welles can be as an actor, especially a key supporting character.  Welles famously referred to his part in this film as an almost absentee part, but I think that is selling him short; yes, the buildup to his appearance definitely eases his job, but Welles gave perhaps the quintessential amoral performance (pre-1950, at the very least) here.  The rest of the cast is completely decent, but not spectacular.  Trevor Howard plays an uptight English military man quite well and I will admit that it took me a few viewings to recognize Bernard Lee (of James Bond fame) as an underling.  I also enjoyed the myriad European character actors that popped up in this movie --- most of whom were comically evil-looking --- but none of them really stood out for me more than any other.

What does stand out, though, is the direction of Carol Reed.  Reed, along with his cinematographer Robert Krasker, made one of my favorite movies to just...watch.  Sure, there are probably too many angled shots, but they are all framed gorgeously; I (obviously) haven't been to post-WWII Vienna, but they captured an interesting blend of majesty and rubble.

The Third Man is, quite simply, one of the most visually alluring films I have ever seen.  I love when a director adds little bits of flair to imply intent, and this movie is absolutely brimming with examples.  Thanks to the importance of those shots, there are many moments that have become iconic, and deservedly so.

Gorgeous.  Simply gorgeous.  Even if he is peeing.

Some have proposed that The Third Man was at least partially directed by Orson Welles, with Carol Reed simply maintaining the official credit; while I think it is obvious that Reed was heavily influenced by Welles, what I see in this film --- the fantastic cinematography, the boring leading man, and the directorial intent --- are natural progressions of what I've seen in his earlier work.  And, of course, his choice for the soundtrack was brilliantly subversive.  Did Welles have a hand in the direction of this movie?  I doubt it.  Still, there are worse things than being suspected of being too Wellesian, right?

The Third Man is, for me at least, one of the best film noirs ever made.  Exactly what separates it from, say, The Maltese Falcon or Double Indemnity?  I think that boils down to just two scenes.  The first is the Ferris wheel scene.  Aside from being a great image, this scene also has a fantastic monologue from Orson Welles, one which has been referenced a number of times since, even in two separate episodes of Law & Order. 

Moral: all ants need to die, and die horribly

The other iconic sequence is the chase scene in the sewers of Vienna.  It is a combination of the lack of dialogue, the fantastic cinematography, and some high-quality suspense that makes this sequence work, but oh, does it work!

This film also bucked tradition by being filmed on location --- which was still decades away from being a standard practice --- and sticking with an ending that isn't exactly all wine and roses.  For all these reasons and more, I highly recommend this movie.  The only thing keeping it from being a perfect "10" in my book is the fact that the main characters are not terribly interesting.  Even with that as an obstacle, this is one of the true cinema greats.

And check out this cool The Third Man poster made by some random dude on the interweb!  It's good stuff.

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Casino Royale (1967)

Sometimes, when I watch movies, there will be a sequence that makes me stop the picture, rewind and play it again.  This is done out disbelief, which can be either good or bad.  A sweet line of dialogue or an absolutely ridiculous stunt gets good disbelief.  Absolutely random or stupid things get the bad disbelief.  The entire running time for Casino Royale gets the bad kind.

While Casino Royale is based on Ian Fleming's first James Bond novel of the same name, don't confuse it with the 2006 version.  This is not an official Bond movie, but a British spoof of Bond and a bunch of other spy movies.  The film has five (!) directors, with each making their own vignette that is tied together at the very end.  John Huston, Val Guest, Ken Hughes, Joseph McGrath, and Robert Parrish all acted as director.  Each vignette has its own style and feel, and spoofs different things.  Likewise, the story is very segmented and disjointed.  It should be no surprise that the story is not the main focus for the film.  Instead, the emphasis seems to be on several small moments that, when they work, are extremely funny.

The story begins with an attempt to coax Sir James Bond (David Niven) out of retirement by his old boss, M (John Huston), a CIA guy (William Holden), someone from the KGB, and a French guy.  Predicting Bond's refusal, M arranged for the British government to bomb Bond's home and have it blamed on the evil international organization SMERSH.  The house crumbles,convincing Bond to come out of retirement, but sadly, M dies in the bombing.  Way to plan ahead, genius.  Bond's first act is to return M's body to his family in Scotland.  Sir James is a very prim and proper man who despises the seductive film versions that have had success in recent years; SMERSH seeks to discredit him by ruining his chaste image.  To do so, they replaced all of M's family with sexy SMERSH female agents, all intent on seducing Sir James.  Despite their best efforts, he resists their charms and wins over the operations leader (Deborah Kerr).  From there, Bond returns to England as the head of MI6.  He has his secretary, Miss Moneypenny (Barbara Bouchet) assign the code name "James Bond 007" to all remaining secret agents, in an attempt to confuse both SMERSH and the audience. 

I could go on in detail, but that's as clear as the plot ever gets, so it's probably not worth it.  There are only two other important story lines, in my opinion.  The first involves the recruitment of Evelyn Tremble (Peter Sellers) into a "James Bond 007" identity by fellow "James Bond," Vesper Lynd (Ursula Andress).  Tremble-Bond's mission, like in the 2006 version, is to defeat the villainous Le Chiffe (Orson Welles) at cards.  The other story line involves Sir James Bond facing off against the head of SMERSH, who also happens to be his clumsy nephew, Jimmy Bond (Woody Allen).  Jimmy is very intimidated by his uncle, so he has trouble speaking in his presence, but if his evil plan succeeds, he won't have to.  All men over 4'6" will die, leaving Jimmy as the big man in the world for all women to adore.  The rest of the film has a smorgasbord of movie stars in bit parts and plot sequences that make little to no sense, leading up to a finale that involves cowboys, Indians, and Woody Allen hiccuping illustrated clouds of smoke and eventually exploding.

The supporting cast is very good, even if they only are given a few lines.  Aside from those already mentioned (who give the best performances), George Raft, Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jacqueline Bisset, Anna Quale, Tracy Reed, Peter O'Toole, and Jack Gwillim all have bit parts.  The main acting, though, is not as good.  I realize that David Niven is as British as they come, so his humor is probably going to be very British (read: dry and peculiar, with a weakness for men wearing dresses).  This movie has a ton of slapstick in it, though, which doesn't match his style at all.  He seems uncomfortable throughout.  Peter Sellers is better, but at least half of his screen time is painfully awkward; the other half is pretty funny, though, which makes up for quite a bit.  It's Woody Allen that gets the most laughs with a great show of physical comedy near the end of the film.

The frustrating thing about this movie is that it should be far better than it is.  Seriously, who would have thought that a Peter Sellers/Woody Allen movie wouldn't be very funny?  The problems are myriad, but they boil down to a lack of vision.  Just because the movie is split into several sub-stories doesn't mean that the film as a whole has to suffer; Creepshow, Twilight Zone: The Movie, Grindhouse, and Kentucky Fried Movie are all choppy and mashed together, but their segments share a similar tone.  Casino Royale can't decide what type of comedy it is.  There's an entire sequence that appears to be a satire of contemporary German films, but then finishes with a Benny Hill-type ending.  Huh?  That's okay, Mr. Random Ending, Peter Sellers outdoes you by being physically missing from the final third of his scenes (he either quit or was fired, depending on who you ask).  David Niven's scenes work better as a whole, but they feel like they came out of a British sitcom.  They're cheap, cheeky, and pretty lame.  Basically, there are too many styles at work, and none compliment each other.  I will give director Val Guest credit for trying to tie these disparate strands of story together, but he never truly succeeds; he apparently realized this and turned down a "Supervising Director" credit after he saw the final cut of the film.  Disappointing movies don't come easily or quickly, it seems, and this mess takes over two hours to wind down.

Despite all the bad (two hours!), this movie is not without its charms.  As a James Bond aficionado, it's fun to see the series lampooned.  Personally, I thought David Niven's turn as a celibate Bond was clever, even if it wasn't very funny.  As I mentioned before, Peter Sellers and Woody Allen are entertaining, although Allen was criminally underused.  Many of the other scenes would have worked better if they were shorter, or if the vignettes were edited together as a united film.  But, for what it is, Casino Royale isn't terrible.  It's a product of its time, filled with clean-cut men, sexy women, surreal randomness, and painfully British humor.

Catch 22

Mike Nichols is a gifted director with a flare for filming great dialogue, as best seen in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Closer.  Joseph Heller's Catch-22 is a novel that is brimming with witty dialogue, absurd logic, and has a complex tangle of plot threads.  If anyone could do justice to it on the big screen, Mike Nichols was the man.  At least, that would make sense.  But, as the titular catch in the book indicates, following logic doesn't necessarily get the results you want.

Catch-22 is the story of Yossarian (Alan Arkin), a bombardier in the US Air Force during World War II.  Yossarian comes to the conclusion that he does not want to be in the Air Force any more.  Why?  Because, when he flies his missions over Italy, people keep trying to kill him and eventually will succeed.  His commanding officer, Col. Cathcart (Martin Balsam), keeps raising the required number of flight missions for his men, eventually more than tripling the average number of flights the Air Force requires before rotating experienced pilots out for rest.  The only way out of the Air Force, then, is to die or be declared insane.  Unfortunately, the unit doctor can't help because the Air Force has established rules for determining sanity.  Since only a crazy person would want to keep flying dangerous missions, wanting to get out of the Air Force is sane, but you can't leave the Air Force unless you're insane, but if you're insane you will want to stay in the Air Force and keep flying dangerous missions, etc.  The official description for that circular logic is Catch-22.  The unspoken question is how anyone can escape that logic.

There's more to the movie than that, of course.  Military leaders are shown to be inept, corrupt, and stupid.  Bob Newhart plays Major Major Major Major, who doesn't know what to do as a Major, so he hides and avoids his duties at all times; when he's in the office, no one can see him --- they can only see him when he has left the office.  That's his catch.  Col. Cathcart not only keeps his pilots in the flight rotation far too long, but he and Major Danby (Richard Benjamin) are involved in selling military goods for profit.  Orson Welles makes a brief appearance as General Dreedle, who doesn't understand why he cannot have a subordinate shot for annoying him.

Yossarian's fellow soldiers are similarly bizarre.  Charles Grodin plays a very mild man who eventually fails to see the difference between killing in combat and murder, and isn't distressed by either.  Art Garfunkel embodies the stereotypical movie image of an American soldier: brave, honest, faithful, and very naive.  Martin Sheen's character seems pretty realistic, but the irrationality of war begins to affect him.  Jon Voight plays Milo, who works in the mess hall.  From there, Milo builds up a trading empire, swapping equipment (like parachutes) for better food or for art or money or whatever.  Milo is so effective that he and his superiors, Danby and Cathcart, end up allowing the Italians to bomb their base to make a profit.  All the while, Yossarian becomes more and more neurotic.  He tries to crazy his way out of the Air Force by walking around nude.  He tries to do do it by insulting his officers.  Nothing ever works, though.  In fact, the only man crazier than Yossarian is his buddy, Captain Orr, who has such a talent for getting shot down and splash landing in the ocean, that he claims to just be practicing.

That kind of sums up my feelings for this movie.  There's a lot going on, but nothing really works.  I liked a lot of the performances, especially Charles Grodin and Anthony Perkins (who plays a chaplain), but the movie never really gels.  The glaring problem is with the story.  I haven't read Heller's novel in years, so I'm not upset that they chose to significantly change the story (entire plot threads were dropped, characters swapped speeches, etc.).  I am upset that they chose to change the story so poorly.  Buck Henry (who also plays Lt. Col. Korn) is a talented writer, the creator of Get Smart and the screenwriter for The Graduate.  On paper, he seems like a good choice to simplify Heller's complex story, but the result is a disjointed mess.  The movie ends up breaking into three distinct parts.  The first part is goofy and randomly funny.  I liked that part.  The second part is serious and overwrought.  The third part is an out of left field ending.  I guess that could also be the story arc for The Graduate, too, but it's more disturbing here.  My problem is with the second arc.  I get it.  War is hell.  What I don't get is why it became so hellish after being absurd for the first 45 minutes of the movie.  It would have been much more effective if the crazy decisions made by characters in the first third of the movie directly lead to the serious events; that would have allowed us to see the two parts as connected and contrasting.  Instead, it seems fairly abrupt and random.

Mike Nichols shoulders a lot of the blame for the feel of this movie.  The sound is intentionally obscured at times, with characters having witty conversations while a jet engine obscures what they are saying.  That's just annoying, unless there's a punchline or some symbolism that is being hammered home.  There doesn't seem to be.  I liked Alan Arkin's performance, but I disagreed with the direction; if the whole point of the movie is that Yossarian is the sane guy, he should not act increasingly neurotic.  That's a pretty basic failure on both Nichols' and Arkin's part.  Both the book and the movie jump around in time, but the book does so in a cyclical fashion, elaborating on scenes with different perspectives.  Here, only one particularly sad scene gets replayed, but it happens over and over again.  Nichols' golden touch for dialogue remains strong as ever, with every character having several funny lines with impeccable timing, but that's only important in the funny first third of the film.  After that, we are left with some pretty soul-sucking stuff, and it doesn't have the impact that I'm sure Nichols intended.

This should have been a great movie.  It has the director, the screenwriter, the source material, and the actors needed to make a classic.  What resulted was far less than the sum of its parts.  It's not terrible, but it should be great.  The repetitious scene is a great illustration for what is wrong with the movie.  Perspective is key to this story, right?  What is logical to one person is illogical to the next.  Therefore, it would be both interesting and potentially funny to see the same scene from different characters' viewpoints.  Instead of using this cinematic tool to enlighten and amuse, though, Nichols chooses to club the audience with the notion of war being bad.  This movie is witty and fast-paced, but it's not enough.  Maybe Nichols and Henry should have taken a more literal inspiration from the source material and had the script follow a circular path.  I absolutely believe that Catch-22 can be made into a great film, but this definitely isn't it.