Verdade Oculta

In an era obsessed with 'mental health issues', this film about deeply damaged personalities probably has more resonance now than when first released. The 'madness' element was much reduced by 20th Century Fox and Patricia Neal's role as one of the psychiatric patients consigned to the cutting-room floor. Most critics at the time gave it the thumbs down but over half a century on it remains an engrossing if not entirely convincing piece, the strength of which lies in the splendid and in some cases immensely touching performances from a first-rate cast under Charles Crichton's sensitive direction whilst Douglas Slocombe's superb cinematography accentuates the gloom and Richard Arnell's atonal score underlines the derangement.

Listening to the film's obligatory psychobabble brought to mind playwright Jerome Lawrence's observation: "A neurotic builds a castle in the air, a psychotic lives in it and a psychiatrist collects the rent."

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.

The director was Charles Crichton, the starry cast included Stephen Boyd, Richard Attenborough, Jack Hawkins, (terrific and walking off with the movie), Diane Cilento, Paul Rogers, a fourteen year old Pamela Franklin and a certain Judi Dench in her film debut while Douglas Slocombe did the superb cinematography in black and white Cinemascope so why was "The Third Secret" such a load of old codswallop for most of its length. Easy; the script by Producer Robert L Joseph was a stinker.

It's a whodunit but given the material it's hard to care which of psychiatrist Peter Copley's patients bumped him off. The police have it down as suicide but his daughter, (a precocious Miss Franklin), believes it was murder and asks television journalist Boyd, (himself a patient), to play sleuth. Given the funereal pace of his investigation, (and the movie), it's difficult to see what audience the producers thought they might have. Perhaps they felt the cast alone would bring them in but the film has largely disappeared and is now of interest only for its use of London locations and for Judi Dench completists. Otherwise something of a folly.

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.

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.