For this blog, I will write mostly about The Man Who Knew Too Much because, well, there is so much to say. It was definitely not the kind of mind-blowing, over-the-top, horrifying experience that I had stereotyped most Hitchcock films to be, but I still enjoyed it immensely. In my opinion it was a more subtle suspenseful thriller, much like Rear Window. Boy, what a ride! It takes a while for the entire setup to unravel, particularly in modern terms where often expect to be told what is happening and will happen within the first few minutes. Yet I found this setup essential to the development of the characters and the establishment of the storyline’s fundamental mysterious nature.
By watching Hitchcock’s films, you get a look into a skill that the director had perfected. If there is something that Hitchcock knows how to do well, besides telling a riveting story, is holding the audience in utter suspense. The scene in the chapel during the sermon had me frozen in anticipation- I knew that the couple would be discovered yet I was still wiling them not to be. You can imagine the state I was in when the entire congregation exited and left Dr. McKenna sitting alone with his son’s kidnappers.
A scene that was even more amazing and probably held the most tension was when the assassination was about to take place. Hitchcock dragged it out effectively for a full 12 minutes. 12 minutes!! Yet it was never tiresome and I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. What was especially phenomenal about this scene was that there was there was no verbal interaction between the characters that could be heard by the audience. It was all set to the backdrop of the beautifully played Storm Clouds cantata. And yet, as is shown in the silent interaction between Mr. and Mrs. McKenna, you knew exactly what they would be saying. Not only did this technique not detract from the scene, but it actually added to the suspense in a brilliant manner. To be able to go through the rousing climax of a film successfully without the use of a single spoken word truly takes talent. There is no doubt that Hitchcock’s deliberate lack of words showed just what a master he was of this art form. (On a random sidenote, I had watched Eagle Eye, a movie that is currently showing in theaters, the night prior to viewing The Man Who Knew Too Much. There is a scene in the former movie that is suspiciously parallel to this scene in the latter. The climax of both films involved a frantic mother, whose son was kidnapped, in a large auditorium trying to foil a politically-fueled assassination that will occur at the crescendo of drawn out orchestral song. Hmm….).
There were some camera angles that were cleverly taken to draw the audience into the storyline even further. The most apparent of these was the shot that was taken from the position of the cymbal player during the symphony scene at Albert Hall. For a split second it feels like you are in the orchestra and that you will crash the cymbals that will allow for the assassination to take place. This takes the suspenseful experience to another level, making you feel like you have the power, for an instant, to control the uncontrollable experience of watching a film. You also get the viewpoints from the killer, the mother, and the father and Hitchock constantly switches in between these perspectives during the scene. It makes you feel like you are involved in a way that only those three characters are. It gives the sensation that you too are in on the terrible secret and dreadful event that is looming in the near future. Jo ultimately screams as her husband enters the shooter’s viewing box and the three views are finally intertwined into one simultaneous event. Hitchcock’s clever camera work makes his films that much more believable and exciting, from this scene to the shot where you can see a gun slowly approaching Hank’s head from the corner of the doorway.
In this film, Hitchcock placed two innocent common people in a terrifying situation to see how they would solve it, with no help from the police. And they reach just like one would expect in that horrifying situation. The characters seemed so real and their relationships and emotions seemed genuine. While the chemistry of the main actors was not comparable to that in To Have and Have Not or even to that of The Rear Window, James Steward and Doris Day did a wonderful job playing a distressed married couple on the search for their son. While Steward’s great acting is irrefutable, Day’s skills were particularly shown in the following scene. I loved the part where her character is singing at the embassy in an attempt to get her son’s attention. I can feel the heart and passion in her enchanting voice so powerfully that I almost don’t hear the actual words anymore. Instead it sounds like she’s calling her sons name, in the way that only a desperate (yet composed) mother would. It may not have been intended that way, but I found the scene absolutely heart wrenching- a mother secretly calling out to her son and his desperation to reach his mother’s voice.
The song that Day sings during this scene serves as a clever bridge from the beginning of the movie (when the song was endearingly sung by the mother and son) to the end (when it serves as a tool to rescue the son). But even more importantly it shows an element of Hitchcock’s quintessential style- unpredictability. The beautiful lyrics of the song “Que Sera, Sera” urges the listener to let go of the attempt to predict the future. To watch Hitchcock’s films you need to do almost this. I find myself so caught up in the story that I am urging characters to constantly do things “my way.” By not ALWAYS trying figure out what’s in store for you and willing things to happen, you can go along for Hitchcock’s crazy ride that will undoubtedly employ unexpected sudden twists and turns at every corner.
To be honest, I really didn’t want this film to finish. Near the end when the dad and son are told to quietly exit the embassy and go to a taxi cab, I was secretly excited that there would be more- but alas they found their way out and made it home…. to a comical ending.
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