Monday, April 29, 2013

The Third Man (1949)

An American dime-novel writer named Holly travels to Austria to meet his friend that has a job for him. He discovers his friend has been killed when he was struck by an oncoming car.  However, the story that his friend's neighbor tells him and the police report don't add up.  Something is off. The neighbor tells him there was a third man present at the accident scene, whereas the police report only says two. One says he died instantly, the other doesn't. What's going on?

Think about this, if the name of the film is The Third Man, the police don't believe it, the body was buried quickly with a closed casket funeral, and the only real witness was murdered, who do you think the third man is? Did people of the olden days not have any sense of plausibility? Or can they simply not see something huge right in front of their faces? That would explain how the Titanic sunk. I do not understand how these can be spoilers or twists, especially in film noirs. It is just too obvious.

There is no soundtrack or score in this film. There is just a man playing a zither. The entire time. A lot of times it is delightful, but it can take too much away from the tense moments in the film.

The only part I did not like was when Holly arranged a meeting with the Third Man. They end up walking to a Ferris Wheel. I am terrified of Ferris Wheels.  I was like ... 'Oh no, please don't go inside it' and they did! They went inside! And then they went up! The Third Man pointed out the window and noticed that the people look like ants and that he didn't care that he was killing innocent sick people with his watered-down medicine.  The pure evil of this man and his apathy towards others was magnified by the sheer horror of the Ferris Wheel.  I mean this man's water-down medicine was killing young children, whose lives could have easily been saved if they had gotten the proper care.  

The Ferris Wheel scene was just too scary for me. But other than that I did enjoy watching this film. I give it a 6/10.

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