When Harry Met Holly: Existential Crisis Portrayed in The Third Man

Existentialism is one of the philosophies of choice for Film Noir, and The Third Man presents us with an existential crisis. The Third Man, written by Graham Greene, is a Noir world that exists in what critics term “Greeneland.” James Naremore describes Greeneland as “a world of dingy rooming houses, canned fish, drooping aspidistras, and doomed characters.” This is the world that Holly Martins lives. Martins is of the Noir world, an alienated “Hemingway hero.” American in a British-occupied Vienna. He arrives to find out that his friend, Harry Lime, whom he has come to visit at Lime’s request has died. Martins investigates foul play against Lime, and discovers that his friend is not who he thought him to be. Martins becomes confused in a world where not only he, but we the audience, do not speak the native tongue. His previous beliefs of right and wrong, good and evil, are challenged. Martins eventually must reconcile his beliefs and act on his beliefs to be authentic with himself. The Third Man shows us, using the film language attributed towards Film Noir, the existential struggle that Martins must go through as he learns the true nature and identity of his best friend.

Martins tries to understand his world but he is constantly befuddled as he gains new revelations. He is not cool like Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon; instead he is a schmuck in way over his head. Martins is not clever, either; for most of the first half of the film he believes that the police have murdered his friend Harry Lime. In most Noir films it would be typical for the police to be bungling, incompetent, or even the killers. However, the character Colonel Calloway is competent and presents Martins with empirical evidence that it is Lime who is immoral. With this, Martins begins to believe that things were not as he perceived them. Martins gets drunk repeatedly throughout the film, and his testimony is not taken credibly by others because of it. Robert G. Porfirio writes, “The Hemingway hero is a person ‘to whom something has been done’; that most central to this hero is the loss, and an awareness of it.” What Martins has lost is his friend, first in a literal way, and then in a spiritual way. As much of a schmuck as Martins is, he means well, and has a good heart. He is a moral person who stands by his friends. Morality is at the center of the conflict in The Third Man. Martins wants to help his friend Harry Lime, spending the first half of the film searching for Lime’s killer. We are given an interesting backdrop in the dog-eat-dog landscape of post war Vienna. The moral crime in the film is the existence of a black market for medicine. Martins is shown that Lime is watering down penicillin to steal the rest and sell on the black market. It is a blow to Martins, because his friend Lime is not just rebelling against authority, like they did in their youth, Lime has become a killer.

Halfway through The Third Man, Martins stumbles tipsy out of Anna’s flat and into the street. He sees Lime in a doorway, and is shocked by the revelation that his friend is still alive. Not just alive, but hiding from Martins as well as the police. Everything terrible that Martins found out that Lime had done, he is still doing. It is an existential blow to Martins, because now he has to determine the fate of his friendship, and eventually the fate of his friend who is draped in shadows.

Shadows play an important part in revealing that Lime is still alive. We are set up for the revelatory scene while Martins is in Anna’s apartment saying goodbye to her. Martins moves away from a flower box in the window and the camera pans through the flowers to give us a shot below of the street. We see the dark figure of a man in the street looking up at Anna’s apartment, but we cannot see his face. He moves back into a doorway and into the shadows. Then a cat comes over to him and plays with his shoes. After Martins is finished talking with Anna, he goes back into the streets. Martins would have walked right past Lime, who is hidden in a darkened doorway, but the cat meows, drawing attention to him. Martins looks at the doorway, which is shown with canted angles. At first Martins heckles the man from behind a wall, but then walks over to a ledge, leaning his back against its wall. All Martins can see is Lime’s shoes. Then we hear an angry local woman, and she turns the light on. The light the old woman turns on would not be as bright as the one shown on Lime’s face; its artificial, giving a dramatic introduction to Lime. With the light on Lime there are shadows of shadows of window panes behind him. These become symbolic bars for Lime, because he is a wanted man, and upon arrest would go to jail. We are shown a canted angle shot up of Martins’ reaction to the news his friend is alive. Martins’ world is again twisted and skewed. As the emotion of the reunion sets in, the camera pans into Lime’s face for a close up. Lime is grinning proudly like a friend who just pulled a gag on his best mate.

Then the light goes off and Lime disappears into the shadows again. Martins runs toward him, but a random car driving by delays him and gives Lime a chance to escape.

The shadowy doorway is empty when Martins gets there, but he hears loud footsteps and chases after Lime.

Martins does not see Lime’s face again in this sequence but see’s Lime’s shadow after he turns a corner. Lime’s large shadow is on the wall running away from him. Janey Place and Lowell Peterson write, “Claustrophobic framing devices such as doors, windows, stairways, metal bed frames, or simply shadows separate the character from other characters from his world, or from his own emotions.” The shadow is used tremendously in The Third Man. It is used to portray mystery as seen in this scene. It is an element of thrills when Lime is chased through the sewers by the police with their shadows looming around every turn. Martins’ Austria becomes a world of literal shadows. Within the context of this scene, the shadow literally keeps the mystery of Lime’s identity from Martins, like a blank sheet pulled over him. Then after Lime takes off, neither his face nor even his back are seen; instead we just see his shadow from around a corner. Martins is disconnected by his emotions and a lack of knowledge. Lime and Martins have become separated here by secrets, ethics, and shadows.

Director Carol Reed uses dutch angles on and off throughout the film. It becomes even more uneasy to have a shot with a dutch angle, followed by a cut back to Martins with a normal angle, and then to cut away and back once more with another dutch angle. Martins is shown dutch against the wall, and then again not dutch. After he moves across the street he is dutch again. It is as though Reed doesn’t want us to become familiar with one or the other, but always keeps us on our toes. The use of dutch angles follows Martins’ confusion and frustration in many other scenes as well. The more confident that Martins is in confronting Lime’s killer, he is shown in normal shots; then as Martins’ shock of Lime’s being alive hits him, the dutch angles return. It is an uneasy world for Martins, and for the viewer.

This scene in the film shows Martins in an existential crisis. “Existentialism,” writes Porfirio,” is an outlook which begins with a disoriented individual facing a confused world that he cannot accept.” Martins has been told his friend was killed, and now he faces a dead man, no longer dead—his best friend who has indirectly killed many people. Porfirio continues, “It places its emphasis on man’s contingency in a world where there are no transcendental values or moral absolutes, a world devoid of any meaning but the one man himself creates.” Martins has been confronted by the police for their help, which conflicts with his relationship with Lime. Only Martins can decide what he can do. This scene is about choice, for Martins to decide if he should live an “authentic” or an “inauthentic” life. Inauthentic is to reject values of oneself. Whereas an authentic life is to “discover the ability to create one’s own values; in so doing each individual assumes responsibility for his life through the act of choosing between two alternatives.” Choice comes later in the film, but should be noted here. The crisis arises at this scene of the film fully for the first time, meaning that Martins must look within himself authenticate his values and decide whom to help.

The revelation of Harry Lime being alive is midpoint in the film. At the beginning of the film, Martins arrived in Vienna to see his friend. Now, in this scene, Martins finally sees and understands his friend. The search for Lime’s killer has changed Martins’ outlook and view of Lime. In this scene, with little dialogue, and none of it from Harry Lime, Reed created a dramatic scene using many of the techniques attributed to film noir. We see the challenge that the crisis pushes Martins into, before he begins to state it in the following scenes with the police and then Anna. Martins loves his friend Lime, but knows he has a greater duty in stopping him to be authentic with himself.

1. Naremore, James. More than Night: Film Noir in its Contexts. University of California PRess, Berkeley and Los Angeles. 2008. Ebook edition.
2. Peterson, Lowell and Place, Janey. "Some Visual Motifs of Film Noir." Film Noir Reader. Ed. Silver, Alain and Ursini, James. 8th ed. New York: Limelight Editions, 2006. 84.
3. Peterson, Lowell and Place, Janey. "Some Visual Motifs of Film Noir." Film Noir Reader. Ed. Silver, Alain and Ursini, James. 8th ed. New York: Limelight Editions, 2006. 68
4. Porfirio, Robert G. "No Way Out: Existential Motifs in the Film Noir" Film Noir Reader. Ed. Silver, Alain and Ursini, James. 8th ed. New York: Limelight Editions, 2006. 81
5. Porfirio. 87