While their more notable collaboration may have been The Third Man (quite simply one of the greatest films ever made), Carol Reed and Graham Greene did collaborate on a few other projects, one of which is the woefully underrated The Fallen Idol, which is based on a short story Greene himself wrote in the 1930s, which is here repurposed as the foundation for this fascinating character study about a young boy (the son of a notable diplomat) who makes the awful discovery that a man he idolizes may not be as good of a person as he was led to believe over the years, proving that his worldview is beyond fragile. It’s a small but intricately-constructed film that feels like it is positively brimming with a kind of vibrant energy that we don’t often see from thriller films, especially not those that focus almost entirely on the concept of murder, or rather the suspicion of it. Profoundly modern in its sensibility, but taking place within a very particular social and cultural setting, The Fallen Idol is a fascinating work, and one that only confirms Reed’s immense talents as both a narrative storyteller and visual stylist (not that they were ever in doubt). It may not be the work for which he or Greene are most remembered, but it is a solid place for those who are newer to Reed’s work to start, since it contains almost everything that made him one of the finest filmmakers of his generation.

Reed was a director with a notably varied career that saw him take on a range of genres. However, one of the themes that was quite common through his prolific body of work were stories centred on younger protagonists – whether they were immense successes (such as his adaptation of the stage sensation that was Oliver!) or more underpraised efforts (A Kid for Two Farthings being a notable example), something drew him to stories of children making their way through London, a city that was notoriously hostile to street urchins and anyone who was too young to realize the dangers lurking around every corner. The Fallen Idol is a remarkably different film from the two we’ve mentioned here, since it takes place almost entirely within one location, an embassy at the heart of the city, rather than the sprawling streets of working-class London, which is more familiar to proponents of Reed’s work. A thriller set in this particular city is far from uncommon when it comes to the director’s career, but it is one that he essentially perfected, if not entirely establishing the groundwork for, since nearly every similar film that has followed has owed some form of debt to Reed and his very distinct portrayal of the city, which he always viewed with some combination of admiration and repulsion – London truly is a city of a million stories, and The Fallen Idol tells only one of them, fitting in perfectly with several other films in which the director explored his hometown and the people that populated it.

The attention to detail throughout The Fallen Idol is truly impressive – how someone manages to produce something so layered, yet focuses on every level of the storytelling process, is incredible. We don’t need to praise Reed for his ability to tell a great story, since he is synonymous with the very idea of quality. Instead, we can just remark on the fact that, beneath the surface, there are two incredible storytellers involved in the creation of this film. Greene is the primary authorial voice, taking his original short story and expanding it in a way that keeps the simple but evocative spirit of the source material, but is still meaningful enough to fill up the 95 minutes we spend with the film without it feeling padded or like it is over-extending what is essentially a very straightforward story. Structurally, the film is fascinating all on its own – the centrepiece of The Fallen Idol is a death, and the cause of which is perceived differently. One person sees it as a murder, while another as an accident – and the entire third act is spent watching various characters decode the clues to determine the mystery. As the viewer, we are aware of what the truth is, so much of what makes the film so interesting is how Reed and Greene use the event at the heart of The Fallen Idol to question a range of subjects that are not normally attributed to these films. The story is not one that actually pays too much attention to the death itself, but rather the events that transpire in the aftermath – that is where the film is at its most enduring, since it seems to really be invested in saying something of value, even if it was drawing from a relatively predictable source in terms of genre.

The cast of The Fallen Idol is small but substantial, which is exactly what the story required. At the heart of the film is the character of Phillippe, played by Bobby Henrey, who is the young and innocent protagonist that serves as the central figure through who the entire film is constructed. The film is incredibly generous to this young actor – it is framed around his performance, and while it would’ve easy for “Phille” to be an overly precocious and unrealistic hero, Reed ensures that we are fully invested in his journey from beginning to end. The secondary lead is played by the incredible Ralph Richardson, who is my personal choice for the best of the trio of British actors that nominated stage and screen throughout this century (alongside Laurence Olivier and John Gielgud) – and while The Fallen Idol doesn’t offer him too much in terms of moments in which he can fully descend into his more flowery style of acting (since he was a well-known eccentric, a quirk that was constantly woven into many of his performances), he is a solid and reliable presence that adds elegance and decorum to the early scenes, and a sense of disconcerting mystery to the climactic moments, in which he is given the opportunity to pry open the many well-concealed secrets that this man carries with him. There are many fantastic interactions between the two actors, and they play off each other exceptionally well, grounding the film and single-handedly making it a wonderfully unique film about a very unconventional friendship.

Despite its size, The Fallen Idol is a terrific film that knows exactly what it wants to be, and where it needs to go to achieve that. It’s dramatic in the places that matter, but doesn’t neglect to infuse certain moments with an irreverent humour that grounds it and makes it such a peculiar and enigmatic mystery film. Reed blends a few different genres together to form this film, which is as much a psychological thriller as it is a character-driven drama. The oscillation between tone and content, as well as the narrative beats that accompany it, lead to an enthralling and fast-paced mystery film that is driven less by determining the motive for a crime, or the suspects that are involved, but rather questioning the legal system, as well as the social traditions that co-occur in many of these circumstances. The film has a lot to say, but rather than be overly compacted with social commentary, it allows its message to transpire naturally and within genuine enthusiasm – this, bundled with the gorgeous filmmaking and witty dialogue, leads to a tremendously entertaining and wonderfully unique film that once again unequivocally proves Reed’s merits as a filmmaker and storyteller, and someone who could weave together the most wildly disparate elements into something special.