“A revelation”: is ‘The Third Man’ the most influential British movie of all time?
Greatness is entirely subjective when it comes to cinema, but nobody has a leg to stand on if they don’t acknowledge The Third Man as one of the all-time greats. Carol Reed’s classic has been showered in adulation since 1949, but can it be called the single most influential British film ever made?
The noir thriller’s credentials certainly hold up under scrutiny, with the British Film Institute naming it as the United Kingdom’s finest contribution to the medium. In addition, Academy Award winner Steven Soderbergh is one of just many industry figures convinced it’s the most sumptuous exercise in noir-tinged storytelling ever committed to celluloid, and he’s got a point.
He’s far from alone in holding that opinion, of course, with The Third Man boasting a noted cinephile and all-round icon of the artform as one of its biggest supporters. “The power of the picture, the surprise, the entertainment, the filmmaking itself, a revelation,” wrote one Martin Scorsese for The Independent. “Expressive style, virtuosity; I became fixated, obsessed.”
Great movies aren’t necessarily influential, though, but that doesn’t apply to The Third Man. Whereas the stunning black-and-white cinematography, razor-sharp screenplay, impeccable acting performances, and general aura of unease hold up just as well today as they ever did, it’s easy to overlook how these things have become standard practice for not just the thriller genre but any tales of international espionage and spycraft. It’s the bare minimum these films need to be in order to be remembered, but Reed’s masterpiece was fresh, daring, inventive, and dripping with imagination.
Not only that, but the themes remain as relevant in the 2020s as they did in the 1940s. Set in post-war Vienna, Joseph Cotten’s Holly Martins arrives in the city at the best of Orson Welles’ childhood friend, Harry Lime, only to find out he’s dead. Stumbling into a conspiracy revolving around the titular ‘third man’ on the scene when Harry was killed, the intrepid writer ends up in way over his head trying to figure it all out.
Martins is the embodiment of America failing to understand the intricacies of a world in which it believes itself to be the most prominent superpower. He assumes that things are going to be straightforward when he touches down in Vienna, only to discover he’s out of his depth. That was applicable to the United States’ presence on the world stage in the aftermath of World War II. Resolving the lingering geopolitical tensions was a lot trickier than simply demanding that it happen smoothly, just as the unravelling of Lime’s demise continually throws up new and unexpected obstacles that muddy the waters.
A stranger in a strange land, Martins can’t even pronounce German never mind speak it, making him vastly unqualified and unprepared to wade into such potentially treacherous waters. He still thinks he’s got what it takes, though, even if he continues being proven woefully ill-equipped for scratching a seedy underbelly he had no idea existed before he touched down in Vienna.
Beyond its resonant motifs, The Third Man breathed new life into the technical virtuosities of cinema. Noir was in rude health before it was released, but it can’t help but be noted that many elements that quickly became staples of the genre were as close to perfect as they could be by Reed and his crew, which subsequently informed how such films were created on either side of the pond.
The post-war landscape may as well have been a completely different planet. With The Third Man premiering only four years after the end of World War II, it helped usher in not just a new wave of British cinema that pushed realism, disillusionment, and disenchantment to the forefront but also inspired American filmmakers to raise their game to match the artistry on display.
Reed’s masterpiece is elevated by Graham Greene’s richly detailed and evocative screenplay, with the subtle fingerprints of neorealism layered upon a fictional narrative, the sound design and score serving almost as characters in their own right, the embrace of shadow as not being a hindrance to shot composition and framing but a key component. The amalgamation of expressionism and Americanised noir moulded together to create something brand new, the spatial awareness inherent to every cut of Oswald Hafenrichter’s incredible edit, and one of the greatest introductions ever when Harry finally shows his face, The Third Man has it all.
Many of the most influential big-screen works have made a lasting mark. Still, in terms of just how wide-ranging its influences were on a narrative and technical level, coupled with the way it influenced creative minds in the UK and USA alike, it’s hard to look past The Third Man as the high point for how heavily British films could reshape the trajectory of what cinema had the potential to be.