The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934 AND 1956)

One of my favorite/only full viewing experiences of a Hitchcock film as an adolescent was the (at the time of viewing) fairly scary 1956 classic The Man Who Knew Too Much.  I recall with fondness a riveting suspense thriller, even though it was probably going on 40-something years of age.

Needless to say, as I’ve been going through Hitch’s filmography I’ve been looking forward to the day where I could view this film with more adult/jaded eyes.  

However before I even attempted to start watching these films in a row (now going on more than one year… people do know me to be long-winded) I discovered this film is actually a remake… of one of his own films (The Man Who Knew Too Much from 1934)!  Having watched both back to back (hence the “3 oz shot” in the title, cause 1.5 oz is a shot and if you multiply that by 2 you get 3…“double shot” would’ve been better in retrospect), what fascinates me more than just the revisit of the 1956 version is why the Master conducted a reboot of one of his classics, what changed the second time around, and if there is a clear victor.

Note: from here on out, the films will be referenced by code names: “Swatch” for the 1934 version, and “Mint Tea” for the 1956 version.  I may explain why, but I reserve the right not too as then you’ll know too much... 

The similar plots and almost identical 2nd act peaks could make a brief plot description to cover both films possible: a couple and their child go somewhere foreign, only to have said child taken away because the dad learns something is isn’t supposed to know.  Thus the parents are put into extraordinary circumstances where they must choose between their child or the potential assassination of a public figure.  Suspense with sly humor ensues (aka duh, it’s a Hitchcock film).

While I’ve already mentioned that the plot is fairly similar in structure, differences are happily plentiful (why else would the Master want to perform a redo?)  One clear difference is visuals, specifically the setting for the first act, with Mint Tea taking place in the temperate climate of Africa while Swatch took place in Switzerland (well that didn’t take long to spoil the code).  Besides locale, Swatch has a certain suspenseful quality that is more effortlessly portrayed due to the grittier atmosphere (i.e. no saturation of colors with 1950s Hollywood production standards like in Mint Tea; the prettiness removes the realism at times).  The remake lacks the much more magnetic villain being played by Peter Lorre in the original.  However the focus in Mint Tea is clearly all on Stewart and Day (proof is only needed by looking at the posters for the films) where attention is almost equally divided between parents and villain in Swatch.  Another major departure is the end of each film, in which the antagonists receive justice via very different methods (Mint Tea wins the day here, as suspense keeps us going whereas a understandably dated shootout scene in Swatch becomes repetitive).  

One cannot overlook the elephant in the room - the fact that Swatch is much older.  Editing and sound are slightly dated (Criterion has a release that may be superior than the release I watched) understandably along with visuals, and humor is much more dated than Mint Tea.  Just as well, scenes that shouldn’t be funny are unintentionally so (I’m looking at you very fight scene with evil dentist).  Technically there is no contest - Mint Tea surpasses not just because of advancements in equipment, but also the precision that Hitch developed over the 20 years since.  This is also shown in character development: while Swatch does appear more taut and focused at times, the film is possibly too rushed, leaving us without much feeling for the parents and their lost child.  In all honesty, all I wanted to do was watch Peter Lorre perform, which is an issue/blessing either because of the character, Peter Lorre’s acting, or (probably) a combo.  (One area where the Peter Lorre character detracts is the reveal: we know he’s the villain when we first see him, but the antagonists in Mint Tea are much more of a fun surprise.)

Though these projects differ, fine similarities exist.  The idea of a (ostensibly) intelligent but innocent husband (doctor in Mint Tea, unknown profession in Swatch) and his wife is intriguing: an everyday man with book smarts but naiveté when it comes to street smarts, especially as a fish out of water.  It harkens to other Hitchcock films with similar main characters like The 39 Steps, Saboteur and the soon to be watched North by Northwest (should call this Hitch-subgenre Man On The Run… better yet something way more original/clever/fun).   Fish out of water

There is scene however that was cut right out of Swatch and inserted into Mint Tea (with some wonderful embellishment of course): the Symphony sequence.  Both have the same music, similar shots of the killer’s weapon (no pun intended) and the key antidote to stopping the killer from fulfilling his duties (hint: it’s loud).  While each scene excels, as it is essentially an update of the scene in Mint Tea, Hitch has a chance to really flesh it out with a wonderful stage, multiple characters, better acting, and of course higher quality sound.  With the backdrop of score taking prominence in the scene (the exact same piece of music in both films) it truly is the operatic and cinematic centerpiece.  

So with all of this in mind, how does this writer lean?  Overall, I generally feel comfortable shouting (as you, for example, when you’re at the opera) that both films should be seen.  However, I also quietly want to tell you, while looking around the room to make sure no one will stab me, that watching the second would be a much better experience, and better so by not watching this film first and spoiling the latter.  

I’ve already said too much…

The Trouble With Harry (1956)

 

It's an exciting time for this writer: the 1930s were unexpected, the 1940s were experimental, but the 1950s have always been regarded in my mind as where Hitchcock's masterpieces originate (they should produce a box set entitled "Masterpieces of the Master" and then pay me). I've of course already been through Strangers on a Train from 1950, but I've never witnessed, at least with these less naive eyes, the quintessential films like Rear Window, The Man Who Knew Too Much (remake of his own lesser classic from the 30s), Vertigo, North By Northwest, and.... The Trouble With Harry (or if it were to be made today, There's Something About Harry).  

Captain Albert Wiles is out enjoying nature, talking to himself and his gun, and apparently trying to shoot a rabbit while also apparently having the lowest of expectations and the poorest of aim ever after hitting three items that consisted of everything except a rabbit.  Two of these items are inconsequential, consisting of a can and sign.  The third however goes by the name Harry, and he is dead.  While the captain attempts to hide the body, he has the worst luck with a seemingly unstoppable parade of people happening on the body.  His luck changes however when for various reasons, no one cares at all for some time, until a local artist with his head in the cloud actually notices the body, but even he doesn't care that much.

Not knowing anything prior to viewing this film, I certainly considered it an oddball piece right away.  First (and foremost it seemed to lack Hitchcock's flair for visuals.  The film contains many long static takes that are actually beautiful, but it's hard to understand the point and departure for the director (there is usually much more movement).  The duality between the setting and the plot could be a reason (i.e. murder in otherwise idyllic setting) which if intentional would fascinating in its own right.  Mundane dialogue appears pervasive at first, which is another uncharacteristic trait of the Master.  However it's not all strange, as black humor is a mainstay of his (though usually in the subtext) and there are some truly funny moments.

While I struggle with finding meaning beyond the black humor, the acting certainly provides a redeeming quality, One stand out is the Captain played by Edmund Gwenn.  Along with (at the time) other no-name actors (Shirley MacLaine, John Forsythe etc.) he provides effective characterization without any star-struck distractions.  Reportedly, The Master believed that a "star" was a hindrance to the plot and the story.  Whether or not he means the development, of or a hindrance for the audience to deal with is uncertain, but he may be right in both regards.  Its true the story certainly doesn't suffer from the lack of star power (Shirley and John would eventually be though).  Another certainty is that it was ahead of its time as I'm not sure audiences would've accepted this type of darkly humorous material.

In the end, I'd sum this up to a friend as Weekend at Bernie's by Hitchcock.  

Rope (1948)

Having almost 10 films by the Master of Suspense under my belt, I had planned to continue on into those from the 1950s and beyond.  However I’ve now backtracked slightly into 40s with Shadow of a Doubt, and this little experiment he performed a few years later.  Rope was a film I had already seen once before, but now I was better able to examine as opposed to being slightly wowed by this unique film infamous for being completed in “one” take. 

Brandon and Phillip have just murdered a supposedly close friend (for those cinebriates out there, they really don’t appreciate that he likes Whiskey, so best to drink fine wine here for your own saftey) and with a warped sense of humor have hid the body at a party attended by the victim’s family and friends.  While Brandon is perfectly comfortable with this willing to risk exposure for excitement, Phillip is struggling with the guilt and hardly has the misguided courage Brandon does.  With a brilliant mentor in attendance who has known the two since they were kids, what on the surface seems a dull get-together for the high class turns slowly into a fairly suspenseful real-time experience, all due to our indirect voyeurism. 

Many older films can’t be completely timeless (poor video quality, clichés the modern audience has come to associate with dated cinema, etc.) but one area where this film stands out is the technique used to hide cuts (Hitch couldn't completely have a seamless take even if he wanted to as the camera wouldn't hold enough film).  This being completed roughly 66 years ago, you can’t help but be in awe of the technique as it is something still not seen often today.  This is not the all-encompassing reason for Rope standing the test of time, but it certainly helps. 

Right away you can see similarities to previous films of the Master of Suspense, including the even more claustrophobic Lifeboat, a very effective paranoid WWII thriller all on the eponymous craft.  Also both involve Hume Cronyn as he starred in that film and wrote this.  Shadow of a Doubt may come to mind with Rope acting as an almost spiritual spinoff, with Brandon and Phillip acting as Young Charley's father and his friend (Another Hume connection as he played that character!) would in another life, carrying out their perverted obsession with murder.

 

For this, my second round with the film, I certainly found issues unseen previously, including the acting by John Dall (who plays Brandon). Philip is certainly a guilt-ridden woose, but understandably so while Brandon’s eager excitement is overly exaggerated in the opening scenes (too much emphasis on stuttered breathing).  All I see is a performer at first, though we eventually understand a slight relevant to the plot as James Stewart’s character mentions that Brandon is always hiding something when in that physical state. 

Also, there are moments where I can't help but not see a good reason for doing it in one simulated take (cuts are made in darkness of a character’s back), except for a few fairly wonderful moments.  One that comes to mind is Brandon swinging the titular rope (murder weapon) as he takes it to the kitchen.  The maid comes out and the door swings back and forth behind her, with one instance showcasing a brief moment of Brandon in ecstasy as he places the murder weapon in the drawer for all to see.  Just as well, because we become so used to a continuous and fluid shot, this technique is effective for the surprising hard cut hard cut in the center of the film during a moment of realization by the mentor Rupert (James Stewart, in his first of many Hitchcock film, playing a great supporting character whose reputation being discussed much before he is onscreen adds to the charisma when he does show up).  Without the ongoing take, the cut would be nowhere near as effective or poignant.  

An experiment to be sure, but overall an effective one that keeps with the Master’s style, and even better showcases the exceptional talents of Hume who can write and act.  It also deftly moves from point to point in conversation and plot, which is fairly impressive in this day and age.

If you don’t like that sort of thing though, the new Transformers film is in theaters now.

Strangers on a Train (1951)

Strangers on a Train (1951)

After a fairly brief hiatus from writing anything on this site (~397 Days, or How I Stopped Worrying And Left For Costa Rica) it’s a welcome experience to start again with Hitchcock Chasers and films by The Master of Suspense himself.  Not only is this exploration important for film history, technique, and understanding Hitchcock’s personality on celluloid intra and inter-picture, but also for the fact that the majority of these films are extremely worthwhile and entertaining on there own.  With this post’s topic of discussion sitting at a pretty 63 years of age, are you really confident you can watch many other movies in the Year of Our Lord 2013 that are even nearly as good?  Within the movie’s first opening minute, you know that Strangers On A Train is certainly going to be exciting, which with the exception of the fantastic The Lego Movie, I’m hard pressed to recall a modern film delivering such a feeling.

You’ll know enough about the premise going in, especially if you’ve seen Throw Momma From The Train: two men meet on a train and through a seemingly innocuous discussion about murdering undesirables close to each person, one of them proceeds to take it seriously.  What you may not know is that instead of a thriller, more of a dark comedy follows as displayed with the almost jovial music covering the film’s opening.  Our main protagonists Guy (straight laced tennis player) and Bruno (excited and slightly flamboyant socialite) appear to lead perfectly happy lives in the upper class, but the latter is clearly starting to teeter on boredom from his comforts.  In this way they are also opposites with Bruno acting as devil’s advocate to Guy’s repressed desires.  There is a creeper in most of Hitch’s films and Bruno certainly fits the bill here.

Without giving it all away, we’re taken on a journey with Guy (appropriate as he’s like an average guy… but probably not intended) as he descends into an unavoidable and inescapable nightmare with Bruno the stalker always on his trail.   Though Guy sees Bruno as a complete psychotic (the original motivator of the murder switch) Bruno is without a doubt kindly following up on a promise he believes they both made.  He also keeps his dark actions fairly lighthearted all things considered, though as time goes the character appears much more disturbed/borderline insane as displayed through sequences revealing his inner psychology.  After all, would anyone sane start to strangle a U.S. Senator’s wife at a formal dinner function?

The supporting characters add relevant pathos, as they are essentially the object of affection from multiple perspectives and opinions such as Guy’s late wife (late = spoiler) and Bruno’s parents.  Just as well, Guy’s girlfriend and her sister (played with precocious gusto by Hitch’s daughter) help showcase some sanity in the movie as they try to assist the much cared for tennis player through his plight and understand what is happening. 

This will vary from other films by Hitch: no clear Macguffin (though a cigarette lighter could be argued as such) and almost a constant duel between two characters throughout.  It’s also difficult to truly appreciate this film’s originality if you’ve already seen the aforementioned Throw Momma From The Train (try and not imagine Danny DeVito saying “Criss-cross”).  However, the fun is truly present throughout, especially with Bruno (played wonderfully by Robert Walker in his prematurely final screen performance) being difficult to completely hate even with his misguided and slightly evil point of view.   Also, we still get the director’s penchant for beautiful cinematography and experimentation (one needs look no further than glasses in the grass).  In this film (if in no other) Hitchock is actually omnipresent, like a little boy on the merry-go-round having a great time as our characters proceed through this ordeal. 

Clearly, he is having much more fun than anyone on the merry-go-round at the end of the movie.