Originally published in the NCC Chronicle on September 21, 2007, as part of the “Chad Picks Classic Flicks” series.

With the parade of loathsome summer threequels having turned the corner, and with Oscar season nearing full bloom, I can finally take refuge in some good cinema. But with my schoolboy-like excitement for new good movies also comes my deeper love of classic films.

There in fact lies a goldmine of cinematic brilliance in the dark film noir thrillers of the 1940s, and in the theatrical realist pictures of the ‘50s, and in the New Hollywood counter-culture movies of the ‘70s. And since I perceive a disgustingly low appreciation of older movies among my peers, we will discover a select few of these films together in a new series called “Chad Picks Classic Flicks.”

The films I chose for this series share many distinctions. They are impressive in their technical achievements, they resonate emotionally with the audience, they were relevant to the culture in which they were conceived, and they are superb representations of a certain genre or style. They are also great works of art, and deserve much more publicity than Titanic ever got.

I’ll start with the 1940s. It would be easy and frankly quite boring to discuss Casablanca or Citizen Kane, simply because they’re among the most analyzed films in history (though you should definitely still see them). Instead, I’ll illuminate Carol Reed’s The Third Man, a 1949 murder-mystery thriller starring Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles, both of Citizen Kane fame.

The Third Man is classified as a film noir, which is French for “black film.” Film noirs typically drop stoic, hard-boiled characters into somber settings, usually involving high crime and intrigue. They employ heavy use of shadows and darkness to make the scenery more mysterious and generally more depressing. The Third Man embodies and perfects all of these characteristics.

The story begins with novelette writer Holly Martins (Cotten) arriving in post-World War II Vienna to accept a job offer from his friend Harry Lime (Welles). Martins learns that Lime died in a car accident, but when he presses for details from those closest to Lime, they all give conflicting testimonies. Martins sets out to tie up the loose ends of the story, but ends up getting tangled in a web of deceit, dirty deals, and death.

There’s not much more I can tell you about the plot without spoiling it, but I can tell you that I loved everything about this film: its twisty tale and theatrical qualities, its deep, dark shadows and stunning cinematography, and its top-notch actors and solid screenplay. I also loved the soundtrack, which was no more than an eerie zither motif throughout the entire film (just Google search “zither”).

But what is arguably the most important characteristic of The Third Man is its black-and-white cinematography. Modern filmgoers have grown accustomed to seeing films in color, so disliking an old film simply because it’s in black-and-white is understandable, if not ignorant. But when one claims black-and-whites are slow or hard to watch or, God forbid, boring, I actually take offense.

It’s not an accident that large majority of critically-acclaimed films were filmed in black-and-white. Using shadows instead of colors to create a mood is much more difficult than it seems, but that’s why films like The Third Man and other important film noirs like Double Indemnity (1944), The Maltese Falcon (1941), and Notorious (1946) are so highly regarded; they master the art of shadow brilliantly.

I’ve now told you about one great film I love, however brief the telling was. It’s now your job to seek out more great films yourself. The American Film Institute has compiled many “Greatest” lists of films (The Third Man ranked #57 out of 100 on their original list) where you can find many important and entertaining films to watch on the weekends, unless you’re seeing the latest crap-tastic Michael “Explosions, Sex, and Plot Holes” Bay disaster. If that’s so, may God have mercy on you.