THE MAN BETWEEN: Blu-ray (British Lion/UA, 1953) Kino Lorber

Splendidly unromantic, in an eccentrically ‘romantic’ sort of way, and teeming in oodles of atmospheric unease that, in hindsight, seems to foreshadow the bleak and bewildering spy novels of John Le Carré, director, Carol Reed’s The Man Between (1953) is oft misrepresented as the ‘poor cousin’ to Reed’s own Odd Man Out (1947), and his opus magnum, The Third Man (1949). This is a mistake, as The Man Between is a far more involving and understated masterwork in which Reed trades in Harry Lime’s ugly and distrustful view of humanity in Vienna, for the far more disturbing – if, as bombed out – ruins of Berlin at the start of the Cold War. Here, in the aftermath of Hitler’s deluge, is a landscape as barren and morally bankrupt as anything witnessed in The Third Man, onto which Reed pastes a pair of careworn compatriots, desperately seeking to regain their optimist’s equilibrium. We are introduced to Ivo Kern (James Mason, typifying the disenchanted and abstruse peppercorn ‘hero’ of the piece); principally, a good man, about to go down a very dark road, not yet amply primed for the consequences, and, Susanne Mallison (Claire Bloom) – the outright green schoolteacher, wholly invested in his lingering heart’s desire. Kern, an ex-attorney who ‘partook’ in Nazi atrocities, and, since the war, has parlayed his know-how into satisfying the Eastern bloc’s schemes to kidnap certain Westerners, is driven by his own fervent hunger to migrate to the West. Understandably, owing to his criminal past, the west remains suspicious of Ivo’s motives. Reluctantly agreeing to one final abduction, Kern’s botched attempt inadvertently leads to innocent Briton, Mallison’s capture instead.  

However, there may be a silver lining in this – with the enterprising Kern plotting to restore the victimized Mallison, thereupon establishing good relations with Western authorities, surely to grease the gates in a faux contrition. Despite his relatively aloof exterior, Mallison falls in love with Kern and confides her belief there is a greater humility at play and in turmoil, lurching deep within his soul. Mallison’s devotion to Kern acts as a tonic to his own divisive motives – to a point – and garners the admiration of Horst (Dieter Krause), a fatherless East Berlin youth, who comes to look up to Kern as his surrogate, and, for a brief wrinkle in time, has his loyalties reciprocated by Kern in kindness.  Still, Kern refuses to afford himself either the luxury of forgiveness or to fall in love with Mallison, constantly reminding her of his sordid past. Nevertheless, he plots to valiantly smuggle her into the Western bloc. The pair are only a few feet away from the Brandenburg Gate when their escape goes awry; Kern, valiantly distracting border guards while shouting for Mallison to go on without him. As the truck smuggling her reaches the demilitarized zone, Mallison makes a ‘last ditch’ effort to save Kern. Alas, he is gunned down by guards, thus having given his life to spare hers.

The only parallel that should be considered between The Man Between and The Third Man, is in Reed’s superior direction of each movie, and – possibly - Desmond Dickinson’s stark cinematography, that manages, with uncanny ease, to mirror Robert Krasker’s superb work on The Third Man – visually, making both films appear – at a glance – as companion pieces. They’re not. While each celebrates the bleak devastation of a post-war European metropolis, the screenplay to The Man Between, by Harry Kurnitz (with an unaccredited assist by Eric Linklater - after collaborative consultation between Reed and author, Grahame Green judged Kurnitz’s efforts unsuitable) is far more invested in the premeditated liberation of one man’s moral compass, and how it proves his lethal Achilles’ Heel. James Mason is precisely the actor to fit this bill; Mason’s career built upon an ability to play a sort of weakening, if largely ambiguous figure of obscured conscience, a wonderful contrast to the virginal, yet strangely sexualized, Bloom. Reed is neither out to replicate the success or tone of The Third Man here; but eager to explore the male/female dynamic between these two conflicted individuals who, even more ironically, find common ground on which to briefly transfer their frantic privation into a transitory appetite to belong to one another.  The Man Between is not altogether a ‘political thriller’ either, so it remains light on Cold War dogmatism – even Kern’s nervous tension to rail against it; the Stalinist minders, kept at bay and never the point of our story.

The Man Between is based on an original story – Suzanne in Berlin, penned by popular pulp writer, Walter Ebert under the nom de plume, Lothar Schuler. Greene absolutely refused to collaborate with Reed on an adaptation, despite having previously worked for Reed on The Fallen Idol (1948), The Third Man and, later still, Our Man in Havana (1959). Reed and, the picture’s co-producer, Alexander Korda believed Kurnitz’s adaptation left much to be desired, and, as a result, Linklater was quietly brought in to spruce up the scenes yet to be shot at Shepperton Studios. Consulting Greene for further creative stimulus, Linklater would ‘borrow’ the notion of a boy betrayed by his father from ‘The Basement Room’ – the short story on which Reed’s Fallen Idol is based; also, Greene’s novella, The Third Man, that included a kidnapping not featured in the movie version.  Lamenting the loss of his favorite cinematographer, Robert Krasker, very much in demand and virtually block booked on other commitments well into 1954, Reed was pleasantly surprised by Desmond Dickinson’s ability to achieve similar results for him; Dickinson’s expertise shooting wartime documentaries, a complimentary training to achieve just the right tenor and ambiance of sad-eyed and war-ravaged Berlin at its most stricken and decaying. And Dickinson could thank production designer, André Andrejew, for his exquisitely recreated interiors at Shepperton, flawlessly blending with the footage actually shot on location.

From the outset, Reed nails down a queer sort of mounting dread and paranoia, juxtaposing the rank outsider’s complacency with the built-in pessimism of a defeated Germany, still harboring its freshly buried reprehensible yesterday, while teetering on the brink of an even more brooding and indeterminate tomorrow: untrustworthy strangers, charily examining one another at the airport, or, the first appearance of Horst, doing figure-eights on his bicycle outside the rented apartment of Bettina’s brother, Martin (Geoffrey Toone) and his German wife, Susanne (the luminous Hildegarde Knef). Theses vignettes, seemingly unrelated directly - infer something far more sinister afoot. And Bettina is a woman ill at ease and uncomfortable in her own skin, even when chaperoning the more laid-back Susanne. Yet, nothing is able to lift this invisible and seemingly unwarranted weight from her slender shoulders, even as the more bravely intrigued Susanne, observes Kern spying on them. Is her sister-in-law having an extramarital affair? Susanne’s impressionable nature is, of course doomed from the outset, and, shaken to its core after being snatched off the streets by an East German agent. “He’s not the government, and neither am I,” Ivo confesses, “He’s just a gangster, trying to get what he can.”

Adding another layer of authenticity, Reed insisted on casting German actors for all but three of the movie’s parts, front-lined by the exceptionally talented – but today, sadly forgotten, Hildegard Neff, and Aribert Wäscher, all but unknown to western audiences – as the unscrupulous gangster, Halendar. The last act of The Man Between is a tour de force for Reed, indulging in an exceptionally well-executed ‘cloak and dagger-styled’ race against time as Ivo and Suzanne struggle to elude Halendar through - ‘supposedly’ - the shadowy byways and constricting corridors of Berlin’s eastern sector. For obvious logistic reasons, no actual shooting within the eastern bloc occurred; Reed, instead, evoking a redolent whiff of those perpetually dank streets, a crowded railway station, and finally, the barely lit/half-built ruins of a construction site. The humanizing of Ivo Kern appears to have fascinated Reed; the character, begun almost as a carbon-copy of The Third Man’s Harry Lime – unscrupulous, cruel and calculating. Yet, somewhere along the way, an uncanny sentiment intervenes. This weakens Ivo’s ability to operate within the Cold War milieu and ultimately leads directly into his demise.  

If Kern cannot at first clearly see his own filtrate of morality, the audience discovers it primarily through Horst’s blind-sided devotion, and later, Suzanne’s unanticipated revelation to have hopelessly fallen in love with her soon-to-be martyred savior.  James Mason delivers a nuanced performance that is slightly at odds with Claire Bloom’s rather asexual paramour. Only in one scene - Suzanne, lying on the bed of a prostitute (Hilde Sessak as Lizzi, the deliciously careworn purveyor of Eros for cash), suggesting to Ivo she has ‘cold feet’ (double entendre?) - does the crackle of a romantic spark momentarily flicker between these two, and, seemingly, out of nowhere. Is it enough to bolster our investment in these never-to-be lovers? Arguably, yes. But ultimately, The Man Between is a more morosely distinctive chef-d'oeuvre rather than a succinct, or, at times, even coherent narrative thriller. Far more understated than The Third Man – a quality, for which it was likely misjudged in 1953 and undervalued as the ‘lesser than’, The Man Between is its’ own dramatic animal; Reed, forcing the audience to strain a little harder to seek out the complexities of its characters. They are not cardboard cutouts, but rather more sublimely textured, ghost-like figures to have emerged from this morally-ambiguous post-war Armageddon – most, if not all, of their emotive content stripped clean, or perhaps transfused into a protective layer of scorn, meant merely to exist within a post-apocalyptic world of very vague tomorrows.   

Kino Lorber has licensed the exact same 1080p transfer Studio Canal has been marketing in the U.K. for their Blu-ray of The Man Between. This is good news, indeed, as the image quality here is a mirror image of that aforementioned offering; beautifully rendered with a stunning amount of clarity and fine detail, exceptional contrast, and, virtually no age-related artifacts. Truly, this disc shows off the many virtues of Dickinson’s cinematography to their very best advantage. The DTS 2.0 mono is adequate, but predictably limited, with John Addison’s suspenseful score contributing much. There is a tinny quality to the audio, however, and this is a shame. Kino has ported over the same extras that were on Studio Canal’s release, including a 10-minute interview with Claire Bloom and the almost hour-long Carol Reed: A Gentle Eye, that, although short, manages to be quite comprehensive in critiquing the director’s enduring vision and style. We also get an interview with James Mason, conducted for the BFI in 1967. It’s audio only and, for 40+ minutes runs concurrent with the feature. In addition, Kino has shelled out for a new audio commentary by critic and author, Simon Abrams who toggles between his own reflections and citing a few chapters from Bloom’s autobiography.  Bottom line: The Man Between is an engrossing melodrama. It lacks the ‘thriller/mystery’ trappings of The Third Man but is otherwise, a superb contribution to Reed’s pantheon of cinema greats. This Blu-ray offers impressive image quality and will surely not disappoint. Recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

3.5