The Third Man

Saw this in the theater with a “new 35mm print photochemically printed from original film elements,” shown at the Belcourt in Nashville. What an enchanting and gripping film! I’ve seen this movie several times, but this was the fist time I’d seen it in a theater and also first time seeing it on celluloid, and it really earns the larger presentation. The postwar city, the grief stricken performances, the atmosphere of a population trying to move forward after a destructive war but having to deal with opportunistic vultures, the central mystery of what truly happened, the reveal of Orson Welles’ magnetic character, everything familiar about this film I loved felt heightened by the 35mm projection. I swear, seeing a real film print of an older movie is such treat. I’ve been on both sides of the argument for whether film or digital is “better”, but regardless of the strengths of either, for me there’s an undeniable connection made when you know the film you are watching is a truer reflection of the light that bounced off these people’s faces over 75 years ago. A digital scan flattens the film once, forever, keeping that exact version of the film alive, but losing that tiny edge of reality. When a copy of a film never passes through the digital filter, it still holds an organic feel, and the grain structure and the slight depth of the film stock itself is preserved. Whether or not you are paying attention to this, you can feel the difference. It feels more real than reality. I feel this same feeling with a Christopher Nolan movie projected on film, however when it’s an older film, it feels more… important. Because these people are no longer here, they are gone. But as long as this film is reprinted and as long as it is shown in this way, there’s an almost spiritual connection to the actors and to the audiences that came before us, and we get to see that first moment Orson Welles lights up the screen, and we can feel the same feelings people have felt for decades, and we can watch a true reflection of something larger than life as Orson flashes that iconic smirk.