Billy Wilder was frustratingly good at what he did. The moment he reached his peak as a filmmaker was one that ultimately changed cinema forever, with his work persisting as some of the most brilliant in film history. Whether one of his towering masterpieces, or a film that is less-discussed but still incredibly beloved, Wilder was an artist like no other – which makes the experience of discovering some of his underpraised work all the more wonderful. One, Two, Three isn’t often uttered in the same breath as some of the director’s more canonical works, but it’s just as compelling, especially considering everything that made Wilder a substantial filmmaker is present here – exceptional writing, rapidly-paced comedy and incredible performances, all of which converge into the creation of the of the finest works of early 1960s humour and a massively successful piece of storytelling. This is the kind of film that only causes us to grow in respect for the director (if such is even possible), since being so at ease with your craft to make something as insightful, funny and well-crafted with such effortless grace is an achievement in itself, and all the proof one needs to understand Wilder’s immense importance in film history. In short, One, Two, Three is one of Wilder’s most intricate comedies, just as funny as Some Like It Hot, as cutting-edge as The Apartment and as daring as absolutely anything he did throughout his long and illustrious career. How can we even begin to praise an artist who we can easily see as consistently firing on all cylinders, even when we’re looking at his mid-tier work? We tend to occasionally put certain filmmakers on a pedestal, but Wilder is one of the very few who thoroughly deserves absolutely all of it, as made so evident by his film.

One, Two, Three is quite a discombobulating experience, since the opening narration comments on the construction of the Berlin Wall, which was completed in 1961, a mere three months before this film’s release – if there was any proof that Wilder had a grasp firmly on the collective socio-cultural pulse, this is it. Along with regular collaborator I.A.L. Diamond, Wilder seems to somehow weave a narrative that was incredibly fresh and resonant to modern issues at the time, while still putting together a compelling comedy, which was itself based off an older play, making the political underpinnings of this film even more impressive. Fresh and original, the film is a daring satire that consistently aims high, never feeling the need to resort to the cheapest jokes or more trite conventions as a way of entertaining the audience, going the route of more overt elegance, which makes all the difference, since everything about the film carries such a fascinating sophistication that comes from Wilder’s clear and concise understanding of both cultural norms and the factors that make us laugh. Despite making some exceptional dramas, Wilder has always been a director who mastered the comedic form more than anything else – and not only was he able to craft one of the most revolutionary comedies of its time (unless reports are misleading, this was the first film centred explicitly on the Berlin Wall), but also touch on issues that go beyond the particular zeitgeist at the time. One, Two, Three is a comedy of manners masquerading as a potent, specific satire – and while comedies that look at particular moments are very popular in their day, for a work to become timeless, it needs to appeal to those who don’t have first-hand knowledge of what’s being lampooned, but who can still derive value from the more resonant aspects of the story, which this film has in abundance. Wilder, in taking a more substantive approach to the story, not only crafts a great Cold War-era satire, but a fantastic comedy in every respect, which only clarifies exactly why One, Two, Three is a work of unmitigated genius.

Naturally, as is the case for the vast majority of the director’s work, One, Two, Three is populated by some terrific performances – as incredible as they may have been on their own, the screenplays by Wilder and Diamond would simply be meaningless had they not been placed into the hands of some capable actors. James Cagney is the star of this film, and is giving one of his most layered and likeable performances (as well as the one that would be his last until a small role twenty years later). Known more for his gruff and conflicted anti-heroes that he played at his peak, Cagney isn’t so much against type in One, Two, Three than he is reflective on his own reputation and style. Wilder was not a filmmaker ever interested in erasing aspects of a performer’s more notable qualities, but instead repurposed them into a form that cleverly commented, rather than explicitly exploited, some of their most beloved quirks. Cagney was one of the greatest actors to ever work on screen, so to see him give such a spirited late-career performance is very special, and since he is the lead of One, Two, Three, the film is entirely his own. He’s having so much fun with the role, hilariously playing the part of McNamara with such conviction, reminding us that they simply don’t make actors like Cagney anymore. His style was so specific and succinct, it’s impossible for anyone to ever replicate the work he did, or even come close to impersonating him (even though he himself has a great moment in this film of imitating one of his contemporaries, Edward G. Robinson). The film is built on his livewire energy that combined with a genial sophistication that he consistently demonstrated, but really developed well later into his career. The film simply would not have worked with Cagney, who is just exceptional.

Beyond the performance of its wonderful star, One, Two, Three is a fascinating glimpse into the world of Cold War social and political turmoil, which is certainly not a subject that is all that rare to cinema at this time, but still was never executed with such deft precision and sincere heartfulness alongside its more outrageous approach to the comedy underlying the story. The best way to make a statement is often to make us laugh – we tend to remember the things that cause us joy more than despair, and Wilder implicitly understands this, employing this principle regularly throughout the film. He does marvellous work in developing the story beyond the confines of a slight comedy of manners, giving it depth and gravitas that elevates it far above the trite, mindless comedies that pervaded the era. This isn’t to dismiss the incredible work being done in terms of populist comedy – in fact, if there was ever a time where broad comedy was needed more than ever, it was during this period – but One, Two, Three takes it further, finding a perfect balance between real-world events and more humorous situations, which the director blends together in such an intelligent, insightful manner, and one that may touch on some more serious matters, but never in a way that feels overwrought or as if it is preaching in any way. Absolutely everything about this film is kept buoyant and fresh, creating the atmosphere of invigorating, upbeat comedy that consistently strives to make us laugh rather than meditate on the more troubling issues underpinning this film.

This is an effervescent work that occupies a very particular space in the artistic world, being the rare comedy that balances both intelligent social commentary and broader forms of humour, which are merged together in the creation of what is simply an unforgettable piece of satirical humour. Wilder was doing such incredible work here without us even realizing, and despite not being discussed nearly as often as some of his other work, One, Two, Three has all the qualities of his best films – a wonderfully entertaining story that blends resonant real-life issues with a kind of outrageous humour, a great set of performances (with Cagney in particular being fantastic) and dialogue that lingers in one’s mind much longer than we’d expect. It’s not a major work in terms of how it explores this period, but as a piece of comedy, it’s absolutely essential – it combines witty dialogue (brimming with some incredibly intelligent wordplay, which is used with restraint, as a means to prevent the film becoming too overwhelmed by its own intelligence), and more broad humour, which gives it an endearing quality that continuously proves to be as fresh today as it was six decades ago. Billy Wilder was such a master of the form, it’s hardly surprising that he was so at ease when making something like One, Two, Three, which is both effortlessly easy for the director, but also challenging enough to prevent his work from becoming a by-the-numbers comedy. In short, he did something quite marvellous with this film, creating an enjoyable, heartfelt and incredibly funny piece of filmmaking that transcends borders (quite literally, in fact) and becomes as entertaining as it is deeply compelling, which is always a consistent element of Wilder’s work, and the reason why he is so deeply adored.