The Third Secret

This is a beautiful looking film. It's in B/W but also in Cinemascope. At the time audiences were often disappointed when a film was in B/W, colour had well and truly arrived, B/W seemed a throwback. But now we can see what a unique art form it was.

After a prominent psychiatrist Dr Leo Whitset commits suicide, his daughter Catherine (Pamela Franklin), convinced it was murder, enlists one of her fathers' patients, well-known investigative reporter Alex Stedman (Stephen Boyd), to find the killer.

Although Whitset only had four active cases, one of them was a paranoid schizophrenic unaware of their condition. Alex, who also has issues, visits each of the patients although the killer could very well be himself.

The camera loved Stephen Boyd. The well-built Irishman had a hard time covering his Irish brogue whether playing a chariot-racing Roman, a Mongol warrior or an American as he does here, but he sure had presence.

It was the penultimate film of director Charles Crichton who together with cinematographer Douglas Slocombe made some iconic British films including "The lavender Hill Mob" and "The Titfield Thunderbolt". They knew how to compose a shot.

When Cinemascope arrived many Hollywood directors said they didn't know how to compose for the letterbox shape. Not so Crichton and Slocombe. They shot from above or below and used horizontals to balance the composition. It could be a lake, a long wall or even the rails on a park bench. Inside it was the lines of the ceiling, wooden beading or the slats on a window. It wasn't accidental.

"The Third Secret" has a superior score by Richard Arnell. British film music had broken away from the distinctive, but often repetitious Muir Mathieson, Malcolm Arnold era. Arnell, admired by none other than Bernard Herrmann, only did a small number of film scores. He gave thoughtful shadings here. Gentle flute precedes warm orchestral colours and then gives way to atonal textures that suit the nature of the story.

Of course most don't watch a film for the technical aspects, but the attractive stars of this psychological mystery enhance a story that still holds attention after 60 years of movies and countless TV shows.

Does that sound redundant? It's not, you know. Think of all the 'mysteries' that show the murderer in the first few scenes ("The Big Clock", "Sleuth", etc.). "The Third Secret", on the other hand, waits until almost the last scene to reveal the murderer, which makes it a much more satisfying mystery.

But what sets "The Third Secret" apart is an exceptionally well-written script with some of the most intelligent dialogue to come down the pike in years. What a refreshing departure from the current fare, loaded with f-bombs and other obscenities. This picture is written for grown-ups by a grown-up. Couple this with flawless performances from all concerned, and you have a picture worth at least a seven in our rating system.

I can go no higher because this movie is a bit long-winded, with protracted scenes of very capable actors engaged in aforementioned dialogue to the point of tedium. You will, however, enjoy the overall premise - that the death of a well-known psychiatrist was a murder and not a suicide. Very cleverly handled with a twist ending. "The Third Secret" is well worth your time. It's just that it seems to last longer than it actually does.

Just to elaborate on certain comments about Pamela Franklin; she was born in 1950, and 'The Third Secret' was made in 1964, which made her... 14. Not 18, although she may have seemed precociously mature for her age - but then, that's very much part of the fabric of the film. Her scenes with Boyd carry a sexual tension that film-makers and society in general were brave enough to confront at that time. Indeed, don't films from the 60s and 70s (until Star Wars brought serious cinema crashing down) seem terribly grown up? Although Charles Crichton was an Ealing man, his work here is more reminiscent of the Woodfall school of British realism, and light years away from his comedic timing in 'The Battle of the Sexes'. It's hard to deny that the dialogue gets a bit stodgy at times - a pity, since the screenplay contains a great many sly clues to the solution which can get lost amidst the psycho-babble. This was made at a time when much of the UK's cinema was in the hands of serious craftsmen and women - their films are exemplary lessons in thoughtful, considered cinema. However, in this case, fine technique fails to overcome a wordy screenplay, although it's a close-run thing.

"The Third Secret" from 1964 is a British film starring Stephen Boyd, Pamela Franklin, and Diane Cilento as well as a few stars in small roles: Richard Attenborough, Jack Hawkins, Rachel Kempson, and Nigel Davenport. Judi Dench has a small role -- she was just coming up the ladder.

Boyd plays a television journalist, Alex Stedman, who also happens to be the patient of psychiatrist Leo Whitset. When Whitset is found dead, it's an apparent suicide, as he tells his housekeeper that he is responsible. Everyone assumes he means responsible for his own death though no one checks it out.

Whitset's teenage daughter (Franklin) appeals to Boyd, stating that her father could not have killed himself. The suicide is devastating to Boyd, and he is desperate to learn whether or not it's true, because otherwise, he can never believe anything his doctor told him. Suicide was a direct contradiction of his work.

Stedman is able to get a list of Whitset's patients and starts visiting them to discern which one of them could be the killer. He develops a relationship with a beautiful woman (Diane Cilento) who was also a patient of the doctor's.

There are plenty of suspects, but who could it be? Whitset's daughter tells Alex that her father said there are three secrets everyone has: the one you won't tell anyone, the one you won't tell yourself, and one other.

I thought the acting was very good all around, with Franklin's young voice a little too high-pitched for me -- I had the same problem listening to Deanna Durbin as a child - after awhile, it becomes annoying.

My problem with the story is that it dragged. At 90 minutes or so, it felt like three hours. It was interesting, it is by no means a bad film or badly directed, but it was hard for me to get into for some reason. Others found much more to like in it - mine is just one opinion.

Stephen Boyd is a newscaster in London, with a gloomy view of his profession and audience. When his psychiatrist kills himself, he grows angry; if his doctor killed himself, how can he survive? Then the psychiatrist's daughter, Pamela Franklin, comes to him, saying that he was not a suicide. He was a murder victim. Boyd investigates the other patients and comes to suspect he is the murderer.

It's an interestingly written movie about mental illness, with some stellar talent in the supporting roles: Jack Hawkins, Richard Attenborough, Diane Cilento and a screen premiere by Judy Dench. Miss Franklin is superb. The problem is that, despite some beautiful camera work by Douglas Slocombe, there's a lot of talk, too much for a movie, and Stephen Boyd is the lead: a very handsome, very hard-working actor who has no real screen presence and who plays the low-affect depressive to a tee. Director Charles Crichton tries his hardest, but it's too slow and inert to be very interesting.