The Third Man (1949)

Overview

The Third Man is a landmark in both British cinema and the film noir canon. Directed with expressionist flair by Carol Reed, written by literary giant Graham Greene, and anchored by a mesmerizingly shadowy turn from Orson Welles, the film blends espionage, mystery, cynicism, and romance into a noir-thriller that still captivates audiences today.

Set amid the ruins of post-WWII Vienna, the story unfolds like a moral labyrinth—each scene steeped in ambiguity, decay, and deceit. But what truly sets The Third Man apart is how every element—script, score, cinematography, and performance—works in harmony to create a singular, haunting tone: one of moral disillusionment, personal betrayal, and lost ideals.

Plot Summary (Spoiler-Free)

Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten), a down-on-his-luck American writer of pulp Westerns, arrives in post war Vienna after receiving an invitation from his old friend Harry Lime. He expects a job offer—but quickly discovers that Lime has just died in a mysterious accident. Suspicious circumstances and conflicting witness accounts draw Holly deeper into a murky web of intrigue.

As he navigates the city’s divided zones (administered by the Allies), Martins encounters cynical British officer Major Calloway (Trevor Howard), Lime’s beautiful and aloof lover Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli), and a curious cast of informants, spies, and bureaucrats. When Martins hears rumours of a mysterious "third man" at the scene of Lime’s death, he becomes obsessed with finding the truth.

What follows is a descent into a moral and emotional twilight zone—culminating in a reveal that is as iconic as anything in cinema history.

Performances

Joseph Cotten is perfect as Holly Martins—a naïve, principled, but ultimately out-of-his-depth protagonist. Cotten plays Holly not as a standard noir hero, but as a man grappling with friendship, disillusionment, and uncomfortable truths. His everyman quality enhances the film’s central conflict between idealism and reality.

Orson Welles, although only appearing in the second half of the film, dominates the narrative as Harry Lime. With a devilish grin and charismatic menace, Welles transforms Lime into one of cinema’s most iconic antiheroes. His presence is electric, and his famous “cuckoo clock” monologue—improvised or not—is etched in film history.

Alida Valli, as Anna, delivers a subtle, tragic performance. She’s not the femme fatale of typical noir—she’s weary, trapped by love, loyalty, and political circumstance. Her chemistry with Cotten is understated but real.

Trevor Howard offers the moral backbone of the film as Major Calloway. With dry British wit and moral resolve, he provides the counterpoint to Holly’s American innocence and Lime’s European corruption.

Direction and Cinematography

Carol Reed’s direction is nothing short of masterful. Influenced by German Expressionism and Italian Neorealism, Reed uses canted angles, deep shadows, and off-kilter framing to evoke a city in psychological and physical ruin. The film’s visual grammar—tilted horizons, shadow-choked alleys, looming close-ups—doesn’t just illustrate the plot; it embodies the moral disorientation at the film’s heart.

The cinematography by Robert Krasker (which won an Oscar) turns post war Vienna into a surreal, haunted landscape. Every cracked wall and misty cobblestone street seems to whisper secrets. The climactic chase through the Vienna sewers is one of the most stunning and suspenseful sequences ever committed to film—claustrophobic, echoing, and unforgettable.

Screenplay and Dialogue

Graham Greene’s screenplay is rich with literary irony, moral tension, and existential inquiry. It’s a story about friendship, betrayal, and the blurry lines between good and evil in a world ravaged by war. The dialogue crackles with wit, melancholy, and an undercurrent of dark humour.

While Greene’s novella (written as a treatment before the script) is compelling, the final film—especially with Reed’s visual interpretation and Welles’ additions—transcends the page. The story’s twist is both revelatory and thematically devastating, undercutting traditional noir resolutions with quiet despair.

Themes

Morality in Postwar Chaos

Set in a city carved into occupation zones, where law and justice are tenuous, The Third Man is obsessed with moral ambiguity. Harry Lime profits from selling diluted penicillin, resulting in death and suffering, but sees himself as a realist—unbound by the old world’s ethical frameworks. Holly, by contrast, represents the American ideal of justice, but his notions of good and evil are challenged at every turn.

Ruins of Civilization

The Vienna of The Third Man is not merely a backdrop—it’s a metaphor. The bombed-out buildings, black-market dealings, and bureaucratic decay illustrate a civilization in tatters. The war may be over, but its consequences linger, and the line between victors and villains has eroded.

Identity and Illusion

Harry Lime’s elusive identity, the "third man" mystery, and Holly's own disillusionment explore the fluidity of truth in a world of misinformation. Nothing is what it seems—people lie, documents are forged, and friendships crumble under the weight of reality.

Love and Loyalty

Anna’s refusal to betray Harry, even after learning of his crimes, adds tragic weight to the film’s finale. Love, in The Third Man, is not redemptive—it’s haunting. The final scene (a long, wordless shot of Anna walking past Holly without a glance) is a poetic gut-punch of emotional finality.

Music: Anton Karas and the Zither Score

No review of The Third Man is complete without mentioning Anton Karas’s zither score. An unlikely choice (Karas was a Viennese musician discovered by Reed), the zither’s sprightly, almost whimsical theme—known as “The Harry Lime Theme”—became a global hit.

This counterintuitive musical choice adds a layer of irony and unease. The jaunty music contrasts with the film’s dark content, creating a dissonance that lingers. It’s a case of form clashing with theme in the most effective way.

Legacy and Influence

Frequently cited as one of the greatest British films of all time (ranked #1 by the British Film Institute in 1999), The Third Man has inspired generations of filmmakers.

Its aesthetic—angular compositions, morally grey characters, urban decay—paved the way for noir’s evolution and postmodern thrillers.

The sewer sequence has been referenced and echoed in everything from Mission: Impossible to The Fugitive.

Harry Lime remains one of cinema’s most enigmatic antiheroes, even inspiring a short-lived radio series.

The film’s ambiguous, emotionally chilly ending was unusual for its time, influencing later films like Chinatown, Blade Runner, and The Lives of Others.

Final Verdict

The Third Man is a cinematic jewel—an intoxicating fusion of noir, mystery, and political allegory. With Carol Reed’s bravura direction, Graham Greene’s moral intelligence, Welles’s haunting charisma, and the most famous zither tune in film history, it transcends genre and becomes a meditation on betrayal, conscience, and the post war soul.

It is not just a film to watch, but to absorb—frame by frame, note by note, shadow by shadow. A masterpiece that rewards rewatching and deep reflection, it stands as one of the true pinnacles of 20th-century cinema.