Such lines occur frequently in this London-set film (1964), much it taking place beside a low-tide Thames. "There's enough junk here for a two-year calendar!" "There are few masterpieces in the world - but there are many millionaires." And these lines are only in the scenes with an extraordinary turn by Richard Attenborough as a gallery owner and himself an anguished painter of calm scenes (with a young Judi Dench as secretary). He has been visited by Stephen Boyd, an American television broadcaster based in London and esteemed by the nation as a rock-steady commentator. In fact, he and Attenborough shared a widowed psychiatrist, who dies, an apparent suicide, in the opening scence with an enigmatic whisper to the housekeeper.
The psychiatrist's fourteen-year-old daughter - a remarkable performance by Pamela Franklin - is certain that there was foul play, and enlists Boyd's help. This sounds preposterous but the acting carries all with it. Elements of the customary procedural tale are there, but this is a film notable less for adroit plot turns (a fine script by Robert Joseph) than its filming: director Charles Crichton owes much to the often deep-focus cinematography of the ever-reliable Douglas Slocombe. Even small rooms assume epic proportions, with faces in half-shadows redolent of the With the Beatles cover (as with that photograph, the film would not have worked in colour).
Dream, nightmare and reality overlap, with an emphasis on chalked messages upon Thameside walls, where also stands, or rather sits, a statue of Hans Christian Andersen, who has a bearing on events.
If all this sounds rich (in both senses of the word), it is but a small part of a film which also, at one fraught moment, brings allegation of Lolita-like situations, one of them upon a four-poster bed.
Say no more.
It is a continually unsettling film, not least with something almost unspoken, if not unspeakable, about the past in the life of a Judge - Jack Hawkins, no less: he unbuttons, literally and metaphorically, after sitting through another day in the life of a detailed industrial-espionage case.
Why is this film not better known? Give it a whirl, and you will be sure to spread the word. And, meanwhile, word is that a strand of the plot, with Patricia Neal, was cut after filming. That would have made it too long, but would be fascinating to see if the footage survives somewhere. All too often Crichton is mentioned for a late-career return to cinema with A Fish Called Wanda. Make no mistake, The Third Secret us far better.
B&W film with appearances from stars early in their careers.Lot of dialogue at the start with Kew riverside being in most scenes.Interesting although I found the ending a bit far
fetched-why did she go to Boyd with her theory when she knew the truth.Pity Boyd died early in real life.Worth seeing.
Wordy but fascinating psychological thriller which was unfortunately preoccupied with existential despair just as London was starting to swing. So there are long conversations about mental disintegration on the moody, muddy banks of the Thames. A psychotherapist is found dead and presumed to have shot himself.
But what if he was killed by one of his patients? Stephen Boyd is a nihilistic, driven television journalist who was a client of the dead man. He is encouraged by the shrink's young daughter to suspect one of the other regulars. These are played by a trio of guest stars: Richard Attenborough, Diane Cilento and Jack Hawkins. Who are all exceptional.
But the stand out is Pamela Franklin as the orphaned girl, with a secret. This is an all time great performances from a child actor. Her portrayal is so mature it's possible to forget she is playing a 14 year old, her real age. She creates a hypnotic rapport with Boyd, who soon begins to sense that he is investigating himself.
The climax is a knockout. Occasionally the cerebral script strays into pretentiousness, and won't be to all tastes. There is an exciting thriller format, but this is a downbeat film about emotionally traumatised people in a pitiless world. This melancholy is deepened by the sombre visual imagery of London in black and white CinemaScope. And it's a haunting experience.