From American Thinker:
The consequences of being in over one’s head are hilariously illustrated in the noir classic The Third Man (1949, directed by Carol Reed — not, as some believe, Orson Welles.)
Pulp-western writer Holly Martins, arriving in post-WWII Vienna to take up a job his childhood buddy Harry Lime had promised him, is left to his own devices after Lime dies under mysterious circumstances. Needing cash and a plane ticket home, Martins agrees to deliver a lecture on the modern novel to a local cultural association.
A writer who considers Zane Grey his literary hero cannot be expected to know much about James Joyce and stream-of-consciousness techniques. Though clueless, Martins nevertheless gives it his best shot, hemming and hawing until the snobbish audience gets bored and leaves — except for a couple of thugs in trench coats.
(Read Full Article)