The Third Day

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.

... in which the hero (Peppard) escapes from a car wreck and is suffering from the effects of amnesia. He soon realizes that he is a wealthy man who is involved in the possible sale of his company.

His father-in-law handed it over to him. He didn't give it to his son, who is an officer of the company and he has just been stricken with a full-on stroke. Will George Peppard manage to hold on to the company? Everbody seems to regard his amnesia as "a headache" that will go away. And what is the mystery of the car wreck, which has produced a dead female?

This poor excuse for a thriller generates very little suspense or excitement. And the device of weaving the dead woman (Sally Kellerman) into the action in order to fill in story gaps is bizarre, to say the least. Peppard and Ashley were fashioning themselves as a great screen team. But, unfortunately, it did not work out. The magic of their work in "The Carpetbaggers" has eluded them.

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.

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. 😀

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.