Such is the iconography and conventions of the genre that even before watching a single noir film, the mind associates the term with shadowed alleyways, slick verbal exchanges and the navigation of an innocent man (for it is always a man) through a world of crime, corruption and a cast full of the most secretive of characters.
In The Third Man, these alleyways belong to Vienna – a city divided into four quarters, each presided over by a different nation. The double-crossing climate of this post-World War Two arrangement offers up the perfect noir setting; there is always a place to hide for those who might need one and plenty of language barriers to afford them protection.
But it is the confusion caused by the smattering of German – which seems to be the official language of mediation between the occupying forces – which makes the city such a baffling challenge to hapless American writer Holly Martins who finds himself stranded when the friend who offered him work, Harry Lime, is killed in a car accident just hours before his arrival. Martins is soon acquainted with Anna Schmidt, who doubles as the interminably melancholy lover of Harry Lime, and Martins’ translator as he attempts to shed some light on the mysteries surrounding his friend’s death.
Watching this film over 60 years after it was made, the thing that stands up best is the atmosphere conjured by the set and its framing by the director. Ancient architecture looms above empty midnight squares, grand staircases separate characters and their fractious dialogue and a maze of sewers ensure that only echo and shadow are aids in the search for both friend and foe.
Another highlight is the physical (especially facial) acting on show, particularly that of Ernst Deutsch (Baron Kurtz) and Orson Welles. When Welles finally appears, the film has been rolling along nicely for about an hour in a self-contained little world. His charisma and wit injects momentum into the narrative which takes it hurtling through the final third with style.
One last note on the music, which at first seems to clash painfully with the visuals. Anton Karas wrote and performed the score with a single instrument, the zither – a kind of many-stringed lap guitar/tiny harp. It has widespread acclaim, being described as ‘unique’[1] and ‘a hallmark of film music composition’[2]. Yet on first listen, the theme (which I’m sure I’d heard somewhere before) seems strangely jolly.
You can imagine it accompanying a comedy farce and suspect that if a similar film were made today, it would be scored with a brooding full orchestra. For me, it took a third viewing to appreciate its value, which is as much about establishing location (the zither is eastern European) as anything else. With just one instrument, Karas prevents the music from becoming attached to any specific character. Instead it provides a jarring unsympathetic backdrop for the sinister exploits of the plot as a whole.
[1] The Third Man Wikipedia page (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_third_man)
[2] Good Information on the score. (http://www.soundtrack.net/albums/database/?id=3273)
Jon Bates Writes 