The Third Man remains a unique, timeless film. Most people call it a Film Noir, yet it barely fits in that box, so strange are some of the choices made in creating the film. The hero is barely a tough guy nor a lost soul disappearing into a void like most noirs, more a friend trying to put things right for himself. There is no femme fatale, just a grief-stricken lover. The villain is both a shockingly heartless racketeer and also a charming Orson Welles. The music is completely at odds with the onscreen action, yet so utterly in tune with the idiosyncratic mood. Then, the style of the film; what style! Effortlessly cool and woozily disorientating amidst a cruel and dilapidated Vienna, a city and a film like no other.