Who better, may one remark,
than the world-class master
of shock in cinema, discov-
ering a floppy tuxedo hand-
kerchief as early as the 19
thirties, in that consensus
niche of awe, Saint Moritz,
for a furtive fertilization
of his harvest of endanger-
ment, to bring to that fore
such a conspicuous yet sec-
ret signal of a stereotype?
The Man Who Knew Too Much -
in a mere 75 minutes of ex-
tremely censored cinema, in
its 1934 incarnation - tugs
one into a spiraling vortex
of complacent complicity in
the prevalence of this mis-
construction. He notices an
adaptive, upright diligence
in males of the floral poc-
ket outpouring, as vigilan-
tes of social protection, a
rôle we see here and there,
today, in cotillion boards.
Who can prefer, being swept
under the rug by a thuggish
liberation program, to that
undying gush of dissidence,
if revived in its image for
several moments, now and a-
gain, of daring effrontery?
The elation of discovery is
always of candid confusion.
Mr Hitchcock played stereo-
type against type, and this
shows us a man with an eye,
who requires to be watched.
Florian Luger
Alfred Hitchcock
director
The Man Who Knew
Too Much
Charles Bennett and
D.B. Wyndham-Lewis
screenplay
Alfred Junge
art direction
Gaumont, 1934©
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