Le témoin du troisième jour

I was so surprised to find that other IMDb users admire this film that I had to declare my contempt for it.

Despite the distinguished names in the credits, both in front of and behind the camera, this is a really shoddy movie. Written and directed like a fifth-rate T V show, it spins a totally incredible story of a man who loses his memory after a car crash, and learns that he is widely disliked and despised, and is now suspected of murdering the local slut.

None of the characters behaves in a plausible way. For example, the wife receives a visit from a complete stranger. She goes downstairs to meet him, and although he acts and talks unusually and alarmingly, she nevertheless gets in his car and goes off with him without even knowing where they are going! The film is full of nonsense like that.

Robert Surtees' controlled use of light and Percy Faith's melodic and lushly orchestrated score are welcome, but do not overcome the movie's basic problems.

Good performances from both young actresses, Elizabeth Ashley (who was to become the second of Peppard's five wives) and Sally Kellerman (who was to create the iconic Miss Margaret "Hot 👄" Houlihan a few years later). Here, unlike in "Breakfast at Tiffany's," George plays a character not so far removed from his own IRL, i.e. an egotistical, womanizing ingrate maneuvering for control of his disabled father-in-law's company. It's only because almost all the other male characters, played by Roddy McDowell (his lying and conniving rival for the company), Robert Webber (the D.A.), and a supremely creepy (and thoroughly unfunny) Arte Johnson, are freakin' grotesque near-charicatures that Peppard comes out not smelling like a skunk in this one. Or at least, that's how I see it anyway. 😀

1965's "The Third Day" boasts a fine cast and intriguing Hitchcock-like storyline from a recent novel by Joseph Hayes, author of "The Desperate Hours." George Peppard's Steve Mallory emerges from a river as disoriented as the audience (wide angle lensing for location shooting north of Bodega Bay), checking his ID to find out his name, a full fledged amnesiac who remembers nothing about himself, including how he escaped certain drowning while cafe singer Holly Mitchell (Sally Kellerman) apparently did not. It's quickly established that Mallory is supposed to be a pillar of society, marrying the daughter of Austin Parsons (Herbert Marshall), owner of the local ceramics factory whose employees number over 2000, yet has earned a reputation as a womanizing drunkard with a penchant for using his fists. Wife Alexandria (Elizabeth Ashley, soon to wed Peppard in real life) had been planning to walk out after years of being neglected but is now irresistibly drawn to her 'new' husband, but his greatest ally in the homestead is Aunt Catherine (Mona Washbourne), accepting of Mallory's behavior and filling in the details on his recent past, unlike her son Oliver (Roddy McDowall), eager to sell out the family business to the highest bidder but only if Steve is out of the way. Mallory's looming arrest for possible manslaughter or even murder hangs over his head like an albatross, and it takes 72 hours (hence the title) for everything to clear in his befuddled mind, aided by the suspicious piano player (Arte Johnson) who never let on that he was secretly married to the deceased Holly Mitchell. For a lengthy 2 hour running time the director commendably keeps a steady pace, although the slack climax proves too pat and unbelievable, winding everything up neat and tidy (the picture was quickly forgotten after a modest box office take). Inveterate scene stealer Roddy McDowall typically makes a strong impression as a reprehensible human being, while this was the final role for Herbert Marshall, almost undone with Vincent Price in 1958's "The Fly" as they struggled to avoid hysterics during its finale. Arte Johnson's small stature and established comic persona make him an unlikely villain, but the most unforgettable performance comes from Mona Washbourne, whose devastating putdown of crooked son Roddy McDowall makes for riveting stuff (Mona will be remembered by Peter Cushing fans as the school matriarch in Hammer's "The Brides of Dracula"). Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater paired this with 1958's "The 39 Steps" for an adults only broadcast in 1972, a natural for both Hitchcock suspense and playing the numbers.

What caught my eye in this film is the last few sequences – which include a long chase along the Russian River in northern California. The rear projection looks feeble today – but that is the way it was in 1965. Arte Johnson is miscast – and that is underscored when, at the end of the chase, he and George Peppard haul out the fisticuffs in the surf. That final scene was filmed on the beach at Goat Rock State Park – just south of Jenner, California.

All but ignored when it came out in theaters, "The Third Day" is actually a good suspense film very much in the Hitchcock mode. It tells the story of a man accused of killing his mistress in a car accident, in which he was also injured. The problem is, the accident's left him an amnesiac, and, by the time the story is pieced together and the killer's identity revealed, both the protagonists and the audience have been through the emotional ringer.

The performances are all quite good, from then-husband and wife George Peppard and Elizabeth Ashley as the protagonist and his understanding wife, to Roddy MacDowall as Peppard's less-than-honest younger brother, who may know more about the case than he's letting on, to a young Sally Kellerman as the mistress (in flashback), to Dame Mona Washbourne and, in his last role, Herbert Marshall as Peppard and MacDowall's parents. The only casting that doesn't really ring true is a pre-"Laugh-In" Arte Johnson as a sleazy blackmailer. Perhaps it's because he's so thought of as a comic actor, but he just doesn't convince as a heavy.

It's been almost twenty years since I saw this film, but it's obviously made an indelible impression. It's an absolute "must" if you like good suspense.