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Wheel Of Fortune! “I’ll have an L for Lime.”

by Andrew McDonald 8 years ago

A quest to board a carriage of the famous wheel in THE THIRD MAN.

I had an ace up my sleeve in the form of a giant wheel in Vienna. It would be a venture of pure movie inspired indulgence that I was determined to see through despite any and all adversities. I could not allow myself to return home until I had stepped aboard and completed a cycle on one of its many hallowed carriages, or at very least, I needed that wheel behind my shoulder while I took the perfect selfie.

 

I was twenty nine years old and travelling with three close friends who were of similar age. Our combined, unspoken understanding was that as our thirties loomed and cast a great shadow of uncertainty and doubt as to what the adult future held and we therefore owed it to ourselves to embark upon an epic trek across the globe before what we assumed would spell marriage, kids and domestic life for all of us, or worse an eternity of loneliness if the happily-ever-after window happened to be missed. We dashed through as many states in the USA and as many cities throughout Europe as our mere six weeks would allow and with an abundance of covered ground under our belts, the trip we had meticulously planned and had eagerly awaited was finally reaching its end. I wish I had a plethora of movie stories to share from iconic film locations visited to chance celebrity sightings but there’s little to tell other than an unexpected interruption where actor Jack Black (escorted by a film crew) performed a sketch for The David Letterman Show right in front of us while we ate our lunch at the Hello Deli which the TV host had helped make famous. To be honest the idea of navigating three friends to vaguely familiar film backdrops or deliberately honing in on places where a celebrity might be found was not on anyone’s radar, we were constantly on the run, scorning the clock and barely savouring each moment. Hardly a secret, but I did keep one film related expedition at the forefront of my mind and I was about to execute it on our final stop in Vienna. What I had failed to mention to my fellow backpackers was that we were visiting Vienna for one reason, and one reason only and that was to carry out a long overdue wish relating to Carol Reed’s superb noir (and the greatest British film of all time according to its film Institute), The Third Man.

 

The Third Man is the tale of Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) who arrives in Allied-Occupied Vienna to take his old friend Harry Lime (later revealed as Orson Welles) up on a job offer. Upon arrival he discovers that Lime has been hit by a truck and has died. But it doesn’t take long before the cracks appear and Martins is quickly persuaded that the accident was staged and details filter through that his friend Lime was a ruthless criminal. The further Martins digs into this mystery the more he puts his own life at stake. The title refers to a third man carrying Lime’s body to the side of the road after witnesses (accomplices of Lime’s) claiming there were only two. The third man was Lime himself and the real dead body turns out to be one of Lime’s penicillin thieves. It is revealed that Lime was stealing pennecillin from miltary hospitals diluting it until it became lethal and selling it on the black market. In post-war Vienna, antibiotcs were new and scarce outside  miltary hospitals and commanded a very high price, making Lime’s deception one of horrific consequences to the desperate patients.

 

We also meet Anna, Lime’s heartbroken and soon to be deported girlfriend and it is outside her apartment that Martins finally catches a glimpse of Lime himself who quickly disappears into the night. Martins’ fervour and curiosity escalates until he is finally face to face with his notorious friend on the Weiner Riesenrad, a landmark Ferris wheel where a powerful confrontation ensues, not to mention a scene that has taken its place in cinematic history. It’s tough to watch because we recognise Lime as a conniving monster and adopt Martins anger and pain after his difficult encounters throughout this whole Austrian ordeal, but what’s clear is that his former friend had become a certified nemesis. The legendary Orson Welles manages to steal the entire scene on the wheel with his sinister persuasions and he arguably steals the entire film with minimal screen time. Harry Lime is portrayed with a perfect balance of charm, wit, mischievousness, disappointment (in Martins for not playing ball) and ultimately menace as he issues very real threats that Martins would do well to heed. Upon exiting the wheel Lime cheerfully caps his meeting off with analogies about the benefits of war.

 

A major, Calloway (Trevor Howard) is on the hunt for Lime and later reveals to Martins the true evil and destruction that Limes black market penicillin is causing its victims. Long past defending his friend, Martins helps Calloway catch Lime in a pursuit to the death in Viennas sewers where Lime has been hiding.

 

 

Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) and harry Lime (Orson Welles) having a bitter conversation on board the Weiner Riesenrad.
Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) and harry Lime (Orson Welles) having a bitter conversation on board the Weiner Riesenrad.

 

 

My brother-in-law Crackers first introduced me to The Third Man. At a time when I deemed it necessary to devour every black and white thriller known to man from now-classic B-film Noirs always involving one calculating temptress to the big budget espionage pictures. It was all new and for the most part all spectacularly engrossing and yet impossible to see them all, so I followed the pedigree of familiar directors, actors and film titles, The Third Man of which, once recommended, ticked all the boxes. The excuse to see Joseph Cotton and Orson Welles share the screen after Citizen Kane was reason enough. Carol Reed, ah yes the guy whose name I remember as a child from Oliver! And based on a book by Graham Greene, actually this one would become significant later. I recently discovered his novels The Quiet American and Brighton Rock which aide from the fact that they kept me engaged, upon researching the author I had that moment of sublime realisation ‘No way! He wrote The Third Man? Oh yeah I can totally see that, of course he wrote The Third Man.’

 

Crackers’ next door neighbour, a retiree who had a profound love for old cinema and an overwhelming VHS collection, became an ally that I never got to meet. Through Crackers’ smooth talking, this man’s collection was suddenly at my disposal, anything I could put my mind to regardless of its obscurity was kept archived within his arsenal and in an age where digital means and the internet was still in its inception I dare say he probably appreciated someone enjoying or at least marvelling at his very own pride and joy, even if the video exchanges were made exclusively via Crackers. I never took advantage I just requested the title, it arrived, then I got watching immediately, repeat, repeat, repeat.

 

One thing that was apparent after I saw The Third Man was that I would have to see it again. I hadn’t joined all the dots but recognised that I had witnessed something great. Crackers warned me that the pieces would all fit into place the more I watched it, and so that’s exactly what I did, many times over. With each screening I obtained new bits of information that may have been over-looked previously. When all the pieces were finally in place I still wasn’t satisfied. I continued to observe each frame carefully in a painstaking effort to avoid any errors or omissions. Secretly I was hoping the movie would magically cast new foreshadowing hints from the time before we see Harry Lime in the flesh. Crackers fed my curiosity with a suggestion that if you looked hard enough, the shadow of Harry Lime could be seen under street lights or looming around the streets of Vienna whilst we are made to believe he is dead. Although he never could pin-point these shadows, nor could I find any evidence of this myself it has tainted the way I watch the film, I scan the screen like a hawk convinced that the director has left valuable crumbs throughout the film for me to scoop up like some sort of eater egg hunt.

 

 

THE THIRD MAN, Alida Valli, Joseph Cotten, 1949
THE THIRD MAN, Alida Valli, Joseph Cotten, 1949

 

 

My most recent screening was at The Astor Theatre in Melbourne and my wife and I unintentionally arrived five minutes late. It sent me into hysterical frenzy for the film’s introduction is a quick overview of what post-war Vienna was like, the political climate, the notion that the town was caught between occupations of multiple military groups, all designed to give the viewer a clearer insight into this murder mystery’s backdrop. What I fretted about most was the idea of missing a brand new plot point, a significant or even sneaky piece of dialogue or a curious figure in the background that I might not have noticed before, and with the advantage of a big screen, my chances of uncovering a proverbial myth, at least in my mind, was not something to toy with. Besides anyone that’s seen The Third Man knows there’s a lot of coverage, extensive footage of the towns people and the city itself, the entire city is sprawling with sombre faced characters and it’s very much a film where city is a key figure rather than one that hones in solely on its key players. It is Lime’s cat after all that gives him away as Martins follows the cat return to its owner as it shifts from the front of Anna’s apartment to the very steps where the hidden Lime has been spying from across the road.

 

I never had to stray far to realise how loved this film really is, for my dad was told that as a boy he would dance around the house to the main theme music, also known as the Harry Lime theme, a motif composed by then unknown musician Anton Karas and performed on a zither. He took that love one step further by visiting the featured wheel on a trip to Vienna, which might I add this was within my lifetime! Mum was born in northern Italy and just across the border you’ll find Austria. Mum and dad often returned to Italy for holidays over the years and it seemed the whole family had either seen or taken a ride on the wheel and they also never failed to mention it. Something always kept me in Melbourne, probably the prospect of being home alone and able to rule the roost, but bad decisions aside, my sister, mum, dad, my uncle, they all traded wheel stories as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do and borderline berated me for not having experienced it myself. Of course the more obsessed I became with The Third Man the more their exclusive conversations began to sting. To add injury to insult my girlfriend, who left both me and Melbourne for a European change of life by residing with her sister who had married into a family that owned a winery. Where do you ask? Why Austria of course. After assuring me she would visit the wheel knowing how envious that would make me, my parting words or suggestion rather was that she should take a photo of herself beside the wheel whilst sticking her middle finger up at the camera (aka me). She promised that she would and although I eventually received a souvenir cigarette lighter displaying the great Wiener Riesenrad, it still didn’t suffice. I wanted on that wheel!

 

 

Martins awaits Lime.
Martins awaits Lime.

 

 

Jumping ahead to the trip I took with my friends. I had saved long and hard and had sacrificed my job managing a DVD retail store in a shopping complex (since six weeks break was far too much time off I was told). I’d like to boast a chronic case of movie withdrawals but there was no time to reflect on what I had been missing on the couch at home. Although one evening whilst in New York City the other guys decided to check out the horror movie The Strangers with Liv Tyler. I was definitely keen to experience a trip to the flicks in the big apple but decided the opportunity to see the newly released Sex & The City Movie in its native land was far too good an opportunity to pass up and so we went our separate ways. Before you pass judgement I’d argue that my night was far more exciting and although I’ve never even seen The Strangers, The Sex & The City Movie in a New York cinema was an event to behold! I watched Sex & The City from the very beginning and after persisting with the first few clunky episodes I pressed on as it elegantly found its high-heeled feet to become one of the most engaging, original, funny and at times heart-breaking TV series ever to grace the small screen. I was already a fan and possibly the only single, straight fan in the cinema that night, yet I rivalled each of my neighbours in the anticipation stakes. In fact more so since this was their city, to me this was akin to watching a session on the moon. But I reserved my squeals of excitement and even pretended I was in on the joke as I laughed along with the audience when Carrie Bradshaw sadly became a 347 area code girl, whatever the hell that meant.

 

The day we arrived in Vienna the magic of travel and the prospect of spending a night in a brand new European city had unfortunately worn off. It’s hard to even fathom spending time on holidays with your best mates and being in a funk now, but after six whirlwind, adrenalin-charged and sleep-deprived weeks, the trip had taken its toll. We were extremely fatigued, momentously exhausted, operating on a double-triple-quadruple hangover, who knows how many straight nights in a row there had been of partying, and all we wanted to do was crash, or more accurately, hibernate. I’m not one for sports of any kind but the Euro-cup had taken place throughout the European portion of our trip so there was never any shortage of atmosphere, exhiliration and celebration from town squares to quaint little pubs. Football brought the people together and kept us on a diet of alcohol and street food; add to that the paralysis of excitement upon seeing extraordinary sights, but also the lethargy from walking from must-see buildings and monuments by day with raging hangovers, it all made for a much welcomed final destination.

 

The idea was that everyone would pick a European city or two that they wanted to visit, mine were obviously Vienna but also Italy to see where mum was born and we used her very house as our base where my uncle and his partner made our stay immensely pleasant, for it was remote location and a much needed chance to relax, unwind, wash clothes and live the home life for a few days. But just as soon as we found our feet and caught our bearings we’d head off again and rage our way from one destination to the next. Once in Vienna, a taxi in particular, we had one of a few arguments that come to mind. The loss of sleep, our muddled heads and our queasy stomachs had culminated and lead us to breaking point. I think the heated words were over the time we were losing as it was a one night stay and already late in the afternoon. Hindsight hypotheticals like since we don’t have time to do much here anyway why didn’t we just stay longer in Munich, Lucerne, Paris, Amsterdam or Prague? had surfaced and with hours of sunlight dwindling it would be a race against the clock to see the wheel before dark. I wanted light so that it would appear exactly as it did in the film. The cab driver pointed out that the Euro-cup final was being held that very night in Vienna and that a cab ride from our yet to be seen hotel to the wheel could take over an hour. Our best bet was to catch the train with the squillion others that were heading out for Euro-cup festivities, but we had to hurry. Vienna also being my choice left me feeling slightly guilty and responsible that an argument had ensued. Somewhere throughout the short fused and venomous exchange my friend Tyson turned to me and said ‘What are we even doing here?’ I sheepishly replied ‘I want to see a Ferris wheel.’

 

Silence…

 

Then it began…

 

‘We came all this way for a fuckin Ferris Wheel?’ He wasn’t’ alone either, they all turned on me.

 

‘Err… It’s … in this film… called The Third Man…’ That didn’t help.

 

I sounded insane and rightfully submitted to the barrage of verbal abuse that surely came, but once the dust had settled (slightly) and being the good mates that they are, they cast aside their wheel grievances and indulged me, allowing us to plough ahead and to realise my film fantasy. We pushed our way onto a train that would rival peak hour in Tokyo and shoved and shuffled our way to the wheel. Although I was the butt of every joke and disgruntled remark all the way there, once I saw the wheel I didn’t care what anyone thought of me, it was fantastic! It looked every inch like in the film bar the giant Euro-cup advertisement encompassing its entire centre. We paid our entrance fee and entered a little room detailing the history of the wheel – I desperately searched for recognition towards The Third man but found nothing, apparently the wheel had a more relevant history outside of some scene in some film. It still didn’t matter, I was elated. I insisted on taking a novelty photo inside a fake carriage at the ticketing area with a green screen that would later project the actual sights of the city viewed from the carriage. The photo’s very telling, I’m looking deliriously happy sporting an over exaggerated smile of wonder whereas the other guys look like they’re inches away from kicking my arse.

 

 

Looking pretty chuffed with myself for finally getting a selfie with the wheel.
Looking pretty chuffed with myself for finally getting a selfie with the wheel.

 

 

Something happened on the wheel; maybe it was the picturesque view of Vienna, or the ridiculousness that my freinds we were all standing in an old Ferris wheel carriage with no context, or perhaps it was just the prospect of standing still for once, but spirits started to lift. My friend Matt asked me to recite some lines from the scene in The Third Man, to which I happily obliged throwing out every vague bit of dialogue that I could remember at random intervals and simultaneously making Orson Welles turn in his grave. I remember taking a ton of photos while my friends sarcastically feigned enthusiasm and hung from the steel pole above our heads out of boredom. With an air of victory we strolled towards a nearby amusement park that was eerily empty where we found out that Tyson has a fear of rollercoasters and as the sun set upon us we hailed a taxi and requested we be taken to wherever the Euro-cup final action was taking place. The cab driver was ashamed that we had not spent nearly enough time in his wonderful city and for no extra charge drove us around to all the great sights wowing us every inch of the way until finally leaving us in a pub that was bursting with grand final energy.

 

 

The Third Friend. A very accomodating Burke listens while I poorly recite Harry Lime's dialogue on the wheel. We even set the camera to 'black and white'.
The Third Friend. A very accomodating Burke listens while I poorly recite Harry Lime’s dialogue on the wheel. We even set the camera to ‘black and white’.

 

 

The pub spilled into a nightclub which spilled into the street that was filled with fans of Spain who had won the converted prize. I spent the entire evening drunk and walking around with a large gift bag which adorned the great wheel on its plastic sleeve, filled with a novelty photograph, a souvenir fridge magnet and t-shirt. Once the alcoholic confidence overruled my embarrassment I started barging my way through crowds exclaiming ‘excuse me, I have a bag!’ and although no one understood my drunken nonsense it seemed people just gravitated towards us because, well, I guess because we were in a good mood and ready to be the life of the party one last time. Once merging into a street filled with triumphant Spaniards I even got to chant along, shamefully regurgitating the only Spanish I remembered from childhood, a song that consisted of the lyrics ‘everybody loves Saturday night’ which might I add, it was! And which might I add received cheers of drunken praise from the punters. Vienna was a highlight for all of us, the wheel got ticked off the bucket list and now each trip to the fridge is a constant reminder that I did it, and also a prompt that I am yet to pay the bill that is being held up by the magnet.

 

 

'I have a bag!' amidst the victorious Spain supporters on the streets of Vienna after the Euro-cup. Forgot I'd have to carry my souvenir purchases to bars and clubs afterwards.
‘I have a bag!’ amidst the victorious Spain supporters on the streets of Vienna after the Euro-cup. Forgot I’d have to carry my souvenir purchases to bars and clubs afterwards.

 

 

At a recent family dinner The Third Man came up, which believe me is a truly rare occurrence unless of course I happen to mention it. Dad told the story of how he used to dance to the zither, Crackers talked of how he loved the film, I corrected all who attempted to re-enact Harry Limes famous ‘cuckoo clock’ monologue with the exact wording, my uncle discussed the wheel and what a wonderful sight it truly is, which spurred everyone else at the table to declare they had also been on board the wheel or at very least seen it, and for the first time since the trip I was able to proudly concur that it was in fact a truly magnificent wheel. It’s only taken seven years for the opportunity to arise and to be able to share in this conversation but just to be on a level playing field and agree with everyone else was totally worth it.

 

 

The Wiener Riesenrad as seen from the nearby amusement park.
The Wiener Riesenrad as seen from the nearby amusement park.

 

 

Oh and don’t feel too bad for us (as though you did already), all my friends are currently married or engaged. Whilst I was still shaking off jetlag I received a text from my future wife (then a friend from work, the job of which I was able to resume) something to the effect of ‘what you do? Come out for a drink! And the wheels were in motion. *

 

 

  • We happened to be in New York City on the day of my birthday during our honeymoon. My wife Laura had planned an array of incredible festivities of which can never be topped and included helicopters, Muppets and dinner where Carrie Bradshaw had her pre-wedding party in The Sex & The City Movie! The day wrapped up with a delightful surprise visit to a bar named The Third Man. The plus side was that it was a bar called The Third Man – like seriously, how can you top that? Complete with themed cocktails like, you guessed it, The Harry Lime. The downside was that when ordering a Harry Lime it became apparent that no one in the bar had the faintest idea what the film was about let alone cared to share in any film banter which I’m unsure if I actually expected or not. I was simply impressed that someone had conceived of a bar that was silently nodding to my beloved film. However, when I did place an order the girl at the bar immediately handed me over to someone else saying ‘you know how I feel about Australians.’ Probably the same way I felt about people that didn’t appreciate how cool their workplace was. Again don’t feel too bad for me, the birthday Gods were looking down that night, for after a brief miserable stint in the bar I decided when returning home that we needed a night cap. Laura and I went into one of those famous bars where a guy at the piano plays show tunes til stumps and anyone can get up and sing. The place was pumping and before long I found myself joining in the munchkin portion of ‘…and Kansas she says is the name of her star’ as a very brave and talented vocalist performed Dorothy’s entire musical sequence upon her arrival in Oz. The table next to us became vacant and to my movie buff shock and sheer ecstatic joy Cuba Gooding Jr sat beside us. For our entertainment that evening we were treated to the soothing sounds of an actual Academy Award winner (or if I’m being honest Mr. Tre Styles from Boyz N The Hood himself!), so in a round-about way thankyou The Third Man for yet another great holiday experience!

 

 

The cocktail menu at New York bar 'The Third Man'.
The cocktail menu at New York bar ‘The Third Man’.

 

 

Spain wasn't the only winner that day.
Spain wasn’t the only winner that day.

 

 

 

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Posted by: Andrew McDonald

307 thoughts on “Wheel Of Fortune! “I’ll have an L for Lime.””

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