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Ostensibly a story about the young child of Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day. The kid gets kidnapped to keep his parents quiet. They know something about a plot to assassinate the ambassador of an unnamed country during a performance at Albert Hall in London.
The movie is rich in Hitchcockian incidents. A friendly but opaque Frenchman seems to grill the innocent Stewart -- a doctor from Indiana -- a little too intensely to be merely idly curious. Later the Frenchman shows up in Arab disguise, a knife in his back, and whispers some information about the murder plot to Stewart. Stewart tells his wife -- Doris Day looking very saucy indeed -- but refuses to cooperate with the police and risk his son's life.
Instead the couple try to track down the assassins, buy them off, and get their son back, taking them from Morocco, where Hitchcock has given us his usual tourist's eye view of the customs, locations, and food, to London. There is a hilarious wild goose chase involving a set-to between Stewart and the staff of a taxidermy shop. The staff are more concerned about guarding their half-stuffed specimens than anything else, and they shuffle around protectively holding the carcasses of a leopard and a swordfish. In the course of the scuffle, Stewart manages to save his throat from being cut by the swordfish bill, but is bitten on the hand by a stuffed tiger, the action boosted along by Bernard Hermann's bumptious score. The scene ends with Stewart rushing out the door. Hitchcock ends it with a shot of a lion's head gaping at the slammed door. There is also a running gag, well done, about some visitors waiting around the couple's hotel room in London, waiting for things to be explained.
There are two serious issues that are lightly touched on. One is the relationship between Stewart and Day, which is not as rosy as it ought to be, considered as a bourgeois ideal. She's been a stage musical star for some years and is internationally known. And she's given it all up to marry an ordinary guy who happens to be a doc. That's understandable in, say, a nurse or a flight attendant or almost any woman other than an international star with a promising career in her own right. It isn't delved into, but the edginess is noticeable, as it was not in the original version. It reminds me a little of an exchange between Joe Dimaggio and his then-wife Marilyn Monroe, who had just returned from entertaining the troops in Korea. "Oh, Joe," she gushed, "did you ever see ten thousand people stand up and cheer?" "Seventy thousand," muttered Joe, former hero of the New York Yankees.
The second problem is one of allegiance. Who is of greater social value? One's own young son? Or an unknown ambassador. Do we put ourselves or our loved ones at risk for the sake of national stability? Day is faced with this dilemma in its starkest form at the climax in the Albert Hall. Her solution opts for allegiance to political stability, although her motives are problematic. Does she scream to save the ambassador's life, or does she do so just to release the anxiety that is overwhelming her? (Cf: Alec Guiness falling on the detonator at the end of "The Bridge on the River Kwai.") The photography is extremely good, and the settings can be menacing, even on a quiet street in a residential neighborhood of London. It's mid-day, and Stewart is alone and determined, but frightened too. There are footsteps echoing on Gulliver Street from someone, somewhere. Is he being followed? Is his life in danger? And where the hell is everybody who lives on this street? Hitchcock pays such close attention to location details that we can make out the garden wall bonding of the bricks beside him.
The director had a rare disagreement with Francois Truffaut while being interviewed for Truffaut's otherwise laudatory book. Truffaut argued that the earlier version of "The Man Who Knew Too Much" lacked the depth of the later version. Hitchcock replied, "It seems to me you want me to make films for the art house audience," but finally agreed that the 1930s version was the work of a talented amateur and this version was the work of a professional. No argument there.
This is Hitchcock pretty much near his zenith.


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