What can I say about The Third Man? As a film, it's just about as elusive in revealing its conceptual ideas as the mystery man himself, purposefully jostling our brains about with its unpredictable camerawork that captures a foreign, late 1940s Vienna not only flipped upon its head by the horrific perils of war, but one filled with a horde of secretive, slightly disturbing characters. Now there's a recipe for utter turmoil and confusion if I ever saw one. I'd like to say there's not a whole lot a director would have to do with a film like this to completely screw with an audience, but there's little need to say the contrary: this is not the case. Throw in a web of a story spun around the maniacal prankster that is Harry Lime, then have a clueless schmuck of a writer we find in BFF Holly Martins try to figure out just what the hell is going on around that place and we've got ourselves a bonafide brain-twister on our hands.
To be honest, I still don't have a solid grasp on what we've all just witnessed. If I had to guess, my bet is on the assumption that this is just what Carol Reed had in store for us. The man has devised a dastardly plan to leave us mind-numbingly perplexed upon seeing something so drenched in its own eerie atmosphere. Originally, I thought Lime had it all figured out, oh so perceptively seeing through the transparency of such an idea as good and evil, right and wrong, honesty and deceit existing within a place so riddled with contradictions and a skewed sense of morality. Being pure seems as likely as Lime's actions being just. However, even though the man reeks of corrupt evil, a capacity for love remains. We see it in his blind faith in friend turned traitor Holly, his apparent love for Anna, his child-like charisma. It's qualities like these that help chip away at his stone-cold heart. Thus, as the movie ends with the scarce straight-angled shot of the movie's very own heart-throb, he leaves us with the concept that love is the only truth, when everything else can't ever be concrete.
But wait a second. Lime threw away his love for Anna for the sake of his own freedom and ability to ensure the fact that he was indeed very much alive would remain concealed for eternity. Casting aside the fact that the man neglectfully killed countless people for the sake of his philosophical pondering is one thing, but this debunks everything I had perceived about the man. Is what The Revenant of Vienna suggest, in fact, true? Is Lime truly a vampire and I have been, this whole time, infatuated with the man, only to wind up as his prey? Perhaps not entirely. But nevertheless, what I had mentioned previously, though clever as I thought it was, could never be. So should we simply accept that fact the movie is merely artistic expression or the trappings of a film genius? Nope.
Let's put it in perspective. The movie is shot in a war-torn, late 1940s Vienna at a time in which the city is currently split up into several occupied sectors, thanks to a victorious United States' incredulous foreign policy in the form of macho, bravado bullshit. Carol Reed is a British director who, on top of probably being fed up with an endless wave of American gloating, stubbornly went against the grain of every vogue Hollywood trend of film. A streamlined, commercialized style of squeaky-clean shooting had been replaced with the shaky, lopsided, artistic approach to film making. What results is a movie of two American men, one who deceptively messes everything up (Lime), and another who has to wade through all the crap he left behind (Holly). This is a political shot at America through and through.
Reed's crazy carnival theme seems to carry the film's message as we see Lime continue to act as if the troubles there were indeed just a child's game to entertain one's self. Although intelligent and clever, the man doesn't appear to realize exactly the devastation he is creating. When I envision Lime, the image of that unsettling little boy creeps into my brain, passing his ball back and forth between a cast of characters obviously emotionally devastated by the problems at hand in the movie. Holly is to me nothing more than the phony of a writer he proclaims himself to be, wrapped up in a string of problems he can't hope to solve; a rabbit blindly following the carrot on the end of its stick. In the same vein of ignorance, Holly can only find resolution through shooting his former friend Lime, a violent comparison to the violent outcomes of a destructive war finished by America. Carol has succeeded in creating a dynamic, tag-team duo to mock us out with.
But even with this political attack appearing to be at the heart of this turbulent piece, the film as a whole just seems too damn wacky and weird to simply be labeled as such. Its true beauty comes from its eccentricity and open-ended nature. There is something to the idea of interpreting the uncanny narrative, mind-bending shots and borderline lunatic inhabitants of this strange little hole in time and space to be endlessly appealing. Getting lost in it seems to be more important. Good luck finding your way through this one; I bet Holly Martins would say the same thing.
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This is interesting, but came in too late to count, sadly!
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