Any work of art that carries the label of being one of the greatest works of all time is bound to result in some disappointment – but somehow, when it comes to calling The Third Man the greatest British film ever made, this somehow feels like a vast understatement. Carol Reed didn’t only make arguably the greatest British film of all time (with only a small handful of works being able to legitimately challenge it), or the most effective film noir – he quite simply made one of the finest films of its era overall, an opinion that has only seemed to become more of a fact as the film grows in esteem. Even if it seems that way from a distance, it is far from a hyperbole, since once we’re in the director’s clutches as he transports us to post-war Vienna, placing us at the heart of a thrilling adventure that sees an innocent American writer thrown into a conspiracy that includes a supposedly-deceased colleague, it’s difficult to walk away. Working from a screenplay by Graham Greene (one of the greatest writers of his generation), and employing a cast plucked from numerous different corners of the globe, Reed constructs a film of enormous magnitude, one that realizes its own brilliance and plays towards it in a way that exudes confidence rather than arrogance. It’s a bundle of peculiarities that work exceptionally well when placed in contrast with one another, which is a testament to the incredible collaboration between Reed and Greene, who manage to play to each other’s strengths, pulling together various complex ideas and turning them into a coherent, riveting piece of theatrical cinema that works towards the ultimate goal of redefining the artistry of the craft through the flawless collision of both style and substance, leading to one of the most iconic films of its era. 

Whether it is the viewer’s first time watching The Third Man, or one of the inevitable instances of revisiting it (since it is a profoundly interesting film that rewards multiple viewings), there is always something of value simmering below the surface of this film. Like any great film noir, its brooding tone and attention to detail makes for a profoundly captivating experience, with the general tenets of the film noir genre essentially being defined by the collaboration between Reed and Greene. In one of the most distinct cases of both a director and screenwriter being equally as responsible for the authorial voice on a film (since they’re both targetting different aspects of the overall film), the creators of The Third Man essentially set the standard for a genre that was still relatively in its infancy, having existed for a few years already, but was only steadily approaching its golden age in the forthcoming decade. Much more distinct than the likes of The Maltese Falcon and The Big Sleep (two other notable entries into the genre from this decade) in terms of its cultural milieu, The Third Man is as much indebted to the pulp fiction novels written by the likes of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler as it is to German Expressionism, the jarring angles and framing of certain scenes hearkening back to the earliest years of cinema, which Reed pays tribute to in increasingly fascinating ways. It’s a strange but welcome development when a film is designed to pay homage to previous works, and ultimately ends up redefining the entire genre that it intended to honour in the first place, which this film does with stark consistency.

Reed makes a film that is truly extraordinary, the kind of history-defining masterpiece that impels the viewer to revisit it nearly immediately, particularly in how it drives us to bask in the splendour of the gorgeous cinematography, which was curated in collaboration with the director of photography Robert Krasker, who captures the beauty of Vienna in a way that very few films have been able to, mostly through framing it is a city covered in a thick fog of mystery and intrigue, motivating us to want to explore this aloof world presented to us. The decision to film the majority of the film on-location contributed to the authentic nature of the film, and aided in establishing the evocative atmosphere that drives most of the film. The Third Man is a story told through both words and images, and while we nearly always expect a film noir to have strong dialogue (since much of the narrative, whether exposition or real-time developments, take place through conversations between characters), having a film that evokes such a vivid tension through solely the use of imagery proves how the visual medium can be utilized in a manner far more complex than we are even seeing today – and it only helps that the attention to detail adds a level of genuine complexity to the proceedings. Evocative but meaningful in a way that transcends the actual story – which is by all means far more labyrinthine than many films noir, especially those produced around this era (matched only by the notoriously convoluted, plotless The Big Sleep, which is another incredible entry into the genre) – The Third Man constantly shifts between its strengths as both an impeccable mystery film, and a beguiling collage of nightmarish imagery, which work together to form a stark and unforgiving masterpiece of a film.

From its first moments, we are drawn into the world of The Third Man, and much of that is due not only to the laborious efforts being put in by the authors in ensuring that the film is both well-written and visually interesting, but also to the excellent work being done by the actors. Joseph Cotten had a tendency to play these complex but agreeable protagonists, often functioning as the audience surrogate in stories that require the insights of an individual close to the story, without having them become the sole focus. He’s tremendous in the film, showing how he was one of the most interesting leading men of his generation, and someone who was always reliable, whether he was required to take charge of a scene on his own, or simply be present in a scene that required the gravitas he brought to every performance. However, Cotten (despite being the lead) is mostly a secondary character, since the focus of the film comes in the form of the supporting cast, with Alida Valli (credited by the mononym “Valli”) and Trevor Howard playing characters who are simultaneously aids and obstacles to the main character’s mission, which is ultimately focused around locating the aloof Harry Lime, who we learn actually was not killed in a violent accident, but is alive and well, using the sewer canals beneath Vienna as a means to move about without being seen. Orson Welles gives one of the greatest supporting performances to ever be committed to film – he only enters after an hour of the film has elapsed, and has only a few scenes – yet every single one of them is unforgettable, his dastardly charm and ability to embody the most vile characters in a way that makes them irresistible being perfectly captured by Reed, who takes full advantage of Welles and his unique talents in creating this maniacal villain that is one of the very best in the history of cinema, all through the collision of a great actor being given a memorable character and free reign to develop him as he found most fitting.

The Third Man is a film that stands almost peerless in a genre that was approaching a period of incredibly fruitful production, several homages and pale imitations to these complex, brooding works that were often propelled by thrilling stories of murder and intrigue being made for the general public, who consumed these stories at a pace almost too fast to allow for supply to meet the demand. Yet, very few films come close to achieving what Reed did with this film, as he put together arguably the most defining film noir of its time, not only for the story it tells (both in terms of the moral conundrum that grounds the film, and the circumstances faced by the characters), or the visual scope that is used to explore this world, but rather the general atmosphere. The Third Man is a film driven by the constant triangulation of narrative, visuals and atmosphere, each one being dependent on the other, with the extent of the responsibilities asserted on Reed, Greene and the rest of the cast and crew being to ensure that they remain in a state of perpetual symbiosis, working off of each other in increasingly creative and meaningful ways. Without all these moving parts being in perfect motion, the film would have become imbalanced, either towards being too verbose, or having an over-reliance on its stylistic innovation. Therefore, the marvel of The Third Man doesn’t only come in the fact that it is a story well told, or that it demonstrates an incredible attention to detail in both visual and tonal elements, but rather that it is an amalgamation of a number of strong ideas, all of which lead to this daring and provocative psychological thriller that laid the groundwork for over half a century of incredible work, all of it owed to this astonishing work of pure cinematic artistry.