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THE THIRD MAN (1949; Orson Welles, Joseph Cotten, Alida Valli; directed by Carol Reed) 

Occasionally, I will be writing something I’ve dubbed “End Notes”–a very short blurb about, well, the ending of a particular movie. It’ll usually be a favorite ending, from a movie that to me has a perfect ending. Or maybe a movie I never wanted to see end. So, it goes without saying, that–even though you’ve probably seen the movie–I need to issue a Spoiler Alert. And I just did.

RECENTLY, I was fortunate to be at a Chicago Symphony Orchestra performance at which Anton Karas’ famous and unique Third Man Theme was played. A zither player was not easy for the CSO to find, so the conductor said. They searched high and low, finally locating one in… Milwaukee. He was an unassuming fellow, greeted with huge applause. Symphony Center became quiet, and then we heard the familiar opening notes.

Karas’ music gives this amazingly atmospheric movie–personally one of my all-time favorites– a melancholy, wistful tone nearly throughout. Occasionally the tune segues into a jaunty sort of rhythm, which matches Harry Lime (Orson Welles) as he goes on his merry, postwar way through the dark ruins of Vienna. But his bounciness and that of the music only emphasizes the sadness that pervades the other parts of the score, and the tragic events that ensue. We know Lime is whistling in the dark. He is doomed.

We come to the movie’s final scene. Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) has had to reluctantly acknowledge, thanks to Major Calloway (the great Trevor Howard), that the greed and callousness of his old friend Harry has led to the deaths of many children. Since arriving in Vienna, Holly has had a romantic interest in Harry’s beautiful, sultry girlfriend, Anna (Alida Valli), but it’s obvious to everyone (except Holly) that she does not feel the same. He tries, unsuccessfully, to convince Anna of Lime’s guilt. But Anna’s heart remains with Harry. She feels Holly has betrayed both herself and Harry, and she will not forgive.

Coming full circle since the film’s beginning, we’re back at the cemetery, once again saying good bye to Harry Lime. It’s a grim and chilly fall afternoon. The funeral service has ended. Saddened friends are departing, going their separate ways.

Holly leans non-chalantly against a wooden horse cart, like one of the wagons in his cheap, Zane Grey-like novels. He strikes a pose like a Western cowboy as he awaits the approach of the grieving, disillusioned Anna. Surely she will stop and we will talk, Martins might be thinking. Calloway glances back, his expression saying, The fool will never learn.

Holly looks down the lane, towards the approaching figure. Dry leaves fall from barren trees, like tears. Anna draws nearer. Then, without a pause or acknowledgment, Anna passes Holly by…

Holly reaches for a cigarette, lights it, and tosses the match. Harry is gone. Anna has left. One can’t just leave.

Martins: Wait a minute. Let me out.
Calloway: Well, there’s not much time.
Martins: One can’t just… leave. Please.
Calloway: Be sensible, Martins.
Martins: Haven’t got a sensible name, Calloway.

(THE THIRD MAN is widely available via streaming or disk, including Blu-Ray editions )

ear•nest (adjective) Resulting from or showing sincere and intense conviction.

Forgive my play on words, but one of the late Ernest Borgnine’s finer qualities as an actor was, indeed, yes — his earnestness. Sincerity. Conviction. Borgnine brought both to the many roles he played in movies and television. Two examples:

In one of the best, most thoroughly entertaining World War II films (if any war movie can be termed ‘entertaining’), THE DIRTY DOZEN (1967), I have a sense that Borgnine plays himself. He is a no-nonsense, professional soldier, General Sam Worden. Early in the picture as Worden explains to Major Reisman (Lee Marvin) the task he’s being given–to take 12 irredeemable inmates on a suicidal, behind-the-lines sabotage mission–Borgnine is hard-as-nails tough. He’ll have none of Marvin’s snide sarcasm, even though, as the movie progresses, we’ll see the mutual respect and understanding they have for each another.

“Well you hold it, right there. This war was NOT started for your private gratification! And you can be DAMN sure this Army isn’t being run for your personal convenience either!”

Nothing captures Borgnine’s basic affability (despite the bulldog-like barking) better than the war games sequence, during which he gives a knowing wink and a nod to Lee Marvin’s gang’s clever but barely permissable shenanigans. Realizing just what the Dozen are up to, and he, himself, probably having seen it (and done it) all before, he can’t help himself from showing his jolly, inner core. It seems very unfeigned, and it’s a terrificly memorable moment from Borgnine–one of the best in a movie that has plenty of great ones.

So then, how could anyone not like Ernest Borgnine. Well, in FROM HERE TO ETERNITY (1953), he plays Sgt. Judson, better known, unaffectionately, as “Fatso” (but yet it’s a moniker he can deal with, in more ways than one). Fatso is in charge of the stockade. He has a reputation, a very bad one, and everyone is aware of it. Borgnine shows his amazing range in this role, making us really and truly despise this lowlife, bigoted bully who abuses his power. (Of course, a bravura performance from Frank Sinatra (as Maggio) helps, too.)

Fatso has set up a nice little fiefdom for himself, one in which he’s free to dole out whatever physical punishment he chooses, while his superiors, who are aware of it, apparently look the other way. The sheer ease with which Borgnine pulls-off this out-of-character role is something to behold. He barely smiles in any of his scenes. But when Borgnine does, it’s somehow not the ingratiating grin we’re used to (as in THE DIRTY DOZEN, above). He makes Fatso into an unquestionably unlikable character–not a single redeeming quality (“I’m gonna cut this Wop’s heart out…”), and then makes it a pleasure for us to watch him get brought down to size by (brilliant) Burt Lancaster. Fatso’s met his match and knows it, but within seconds he’s back to his old, despicable self, taunting and name-calling Maggio once again (“Tough monkey…”).

Sincerity and conviction. It’s found in Borgnine’s other films, too. JOHNNY GUITAR, FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX, MARTY, THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE, and many others.  But if you and/or your friends and family haven’t seen him in anything but McHale’s Navy, you can’t do any better than to start with these two, outstanding films. (FROM HERE TO ETERNITY and THE DIRTY DOZEN are both widely available, including on Netflix and iTunes.) 

To celebrate this 4th of July, 2012 week, you could watch one of the few films about the Revolutionary War. I can’t recommend 1776, however (“The Eagle, The Turkey, The Dove”?? No, thanks!). Maybe James Cagney in Yankee Doodle Dandy.

You might though, want to delve into the films of John Ford. Ford respected Native Americans, but didn’t always take an even-handed approach (“the audience wants to see them get killed”). He also tended to embellish quite a bit (“When the legend becomes fact, print the legend” –a famous line from THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE— could apply to Ford’s point of view.), and he was notably cantankerous and curmudgeonly (see the clip, below, where Peter Bogdanovich attempts to interview him). But his movies were always representative of America and Americans, with their good points and bad.

Here are just five of John Ford’s greatest, typically “American” films you can’t go wrong with, and some things you may or may not know about each of them. The quotes are from Bogdanovich’s 1968 book, titled “John Ford”.

1. Ford directed only one, excellent segment of the sprawlingly epic HOW THE WEST WAS WON (1962; James Stewart, Debbie Reynolds; “The Ford episode, about the Civil War, is uncommonly good” –Johnathan Rosenbaum), but he was unhappy with the Cinerama process (three strips of film melded together on a wide and curved theater screen):

“It’s worse than CinemaScope, because the ends curl on moving shots and the audience moves instead of the picture. I didn’t care for it.”

2. For one of his greatest Westerns, MY DARLING CLEMENTINE (1946; Victor Mature, Henry Fonda, Linda Darnell; “an American classic” –Leonard Maltin), Ford had some input from an expert: Wyatt Earp himself:

“In the very early silent days, a couple of times a year, [Earp] would come up to visit pals, cowboys he knew in Tombstone… I used to give him a chair and a cup of coffee, and he told me about the fight at the O.K. Corral. So we did it exactly the way it had been.”

3. He regrets that one, particular scene was cut from the outstanding YOUNG MR. LINCOLN (1939; Henry Fonda; “A film which indisputably has the right to be called Americana” –New York Times)

“I had a lovely scene in which Lincoln rode into town on a mule, passed by a theater and stopped to see what was playing, and it was the Booth Family doing Hamlet… [Booth] looked at this funny, incongruous man in a tall hat riding a mule, and you knew there was some connection there. They cut it out–too bad.”