Graham Greene and Carol Reed's collaboration began with The Fallen Idol, a thriller that presents a completely different set of problems than their acclaimed The Third Man. Excepting young Phile's lone wanderings into the London neighborhood, the action is confined to the interior of the embassy with its grand hall, upstairs living quarters, kitchen area and basement. Saying that Reed covers the film from a boy's point of view doesn't refer to a low camera angle or the idea that we don't have access to information Phile doesn't know. We follow Phile and observe all that he sees and hears, but we're constantly comparing his reactions to our own. Phile is inexperienced, naive and uncomprehending of much that happens around him. He thinks he's getting away with hiding his pet snake, never realizing that Mrs. Baines is quite capable of feigning ignorance to get the goods on both him and her husband.

Phile is brutally honest in his reactions, as exuberant in his enthusiasm for Baines as he is certain that Mrs. Baines is wicked. Phile says "I hate you" to Mrs. Baines at the dinner table and means it. Phile's mother may have been recovering in Switzerland for months and for now the Baines'es constitute a substitute family. Phile isn't yet sophisticated enough to realize how unhappy they are.

The masterful performance in The Fallen Idol is by Ralph Richardson, who in place of his usual larger-than-life characters gets a chance to play a likeable but ordinary and somewhat sad man. Baines registers spirit when dealing with Phile, but also a great deal of regret. His face falls in resignation at his wife's cruel reprimands. He has a new girlfriend to whom he can offer nothing, as he could never sever his marriage and keep his job as a trusted manager of servants.

The actual 'whodunnit' aspect of the story is cleverly worked out so that the key violent event is (mis) interpreted by all that examine the evidence. The violence is linked to the physical layout of the embassy: Stairs, a window, a narrow ledge. It's not unlike the emphasis on mechanical details in Alfred Hitchcock movies.

If the stories of the filming of The Fallen Idol are to believed, the actors working with young Bobby Henrey are to be commended, for director Reed had to coax and tease a performance out of a boy simply unsuited for acting work. Henrey had the perfect look and manner -- the typical trained English child actor would have been useless -- but he also had a short attention span, became bored easily and wouldn't follow directions. According to assistant director Guy Hamilton, Bobby would burn up thousands of feet of film looking in the wrong direction or departing from character. Much of Henrey's performance is pasted together from bits of takes brilliantly edited to create a wonderful natural portrait of a charming child. Reed must have had an enormous respect for children to maintain the patience needed to get the film he needed.

Reed's love of kids is given more exercise in the half-comedic episode when young Phile is found wandering in the streets in his pajamas. Policeman Torin Thatcher and floozie Dora Bryan become a third pair of potential parents, and turn out to be the kindest and most comforting guardians of all. Reed would further extend his affinity for working with children in his later A Kid for Two Farthings by Wolf Mankowitz.

The Fallen Idol is unique as a thriller in that we see Baines' fate being determined by a jittery game of chance associations and perceptions. Little Phile witnesses only part of a violent occurrence, which he only later distills into a (wrong) conclusion. Forever being urged to tell the truth, Phile comes out with a steady stream of unreliable information that confuses and frustrates the no-nonsense policemen played by Denis O'Dea and Jack Hawkins. When Phile strives to falsely exonerate Baines, he almost seals the poor man's fate. In a curious development, the entire law enforcement establishment appears to be equally as blind and confused as little Phile.

Criterion's DVD of The Fallen Idol is a picture perfect presentation of this handsome B&W film. George Perinal's cinematography makes the embassy interior look like a giant chessboard or an arena for a modern role-playing game. William Alwyn's music is clearer here than in earlier video versions.

For a knighted film director, Carol Reed was decidedly less celebrated than his contemporaries, perhaps because of a few career stumbles in the early 1960s when more flamboyant directors garnered more attention. The only older extras on the disc are some press book reproductions and a poster gallery. Compensating mightily is a new documentary called A Sense of Carol Reed in which surviving collaborators like Guy Hamilton comment on Reed's work with Graham Greene, and what made the director so special. A lot of time is given to the film's difficulties with little Bobby Henrey. The kid is so charming in the movie that it's a big surprise to find out that working with him was one long and frustrating ordeal.

A fat insert booklet has essays from Geoffrey O'Brien, David Lodge and Nicholas Wapshott; Amazon erroneously lists Graham Greene's original short story among the extras.

On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, The Fallen Idol rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Supplements: 2006 documentary A Sense of Carol Reed, IIllustrated Reed filmography, Original press book, Insert booklet with essays by Geoffrey O'Brien, David Lodge, and Nicholas Wapshott.
Packaging: Keep case
Reviewed: November 5, 2006