by Elijah Lagarde
In Alfred Hitchcock’s film, The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956), a family is entangled in a conspiracy involving the life of a prime minister and their kidnapped child. They must go to great lengths to reveal the architects of the conspiracy, while dodging the inherent dangers that oppose them. This is a classic Hitchcock thriller with all of his trademark Hitchcock touches: a MacGuffin to drive the plot, the Everyman (or in this case, every-family) in danger, and a grand spectacle for the climax of the film. But as Steven DeRosa suggests in the book Writing with Hitchcock, the film overhauls its original 1934 premise with a more sophisticated and thoughtful remake. I believe that Hitchcock’s remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much defied conventional social and familial archetypes by introducing women as an important part of not only the narrative and its resolution, but are crucial to their relationships with men they are with.
Let us focus on the intro of the film; we are introduced to the McKenna family. Ben McKenna is a doctor, husband, and father. He represents the figurehead of the family. In the audience perspective, we naturally expect guidance and knowledge from him. Sitting next to him is the beautiful Jo and the ever-curious Hank. Neatly seated next to each other on a row bench, they are the American ideals in family form, but we get an undercurrent of contention between Ben and Jo. We see the first hints of this in the form of Hank accidentally pulling down an Arab woman’s veil. Not only does this scene introduce the McKennas to Louis Bernard, but it reveals the patriarchal dominance that Ben is inherited by his status as a man. When Louis is confused over Jo’s name, he explains that her name is Jo, short for Josephine, and nobody knows her by any other name. But we find during the film that she is known by her stage name of Jo Conway. Here, Ben has dismissed his wife’s previous professional life, showcasing his authority as a patriarchal figure. This is a motif that plays throughout the film, most notably with Mr. Drayton and his wife. In fact, the culture they are visiting in Marrakesh follows a patriarchal rule: women are not allowed to remove their veils unless in the presence of their husband. Hitchcock’s Rear Window and its characters L.B. Jefferies and Lisa Fremont come to mind as they reflect the same relationship. Both Jefferies and Ben are dismissive of their partner’s career, but ultimately need their help to overcome the external conflict.
Emotion and logic are the contrasting forces that both Jo and Ben represent, respectively. This is clearly shown in Ben’s attempt to tell Jo of their child’s kidnapping. Rather than dealing with Jo’s reaction with his emotion, Ben confronts this with his doctor’s logic, convincing Jo to take sedatives in an attempt to calm her down. This points to Ben’s lack of emotional connection and empathy. He knew that he could not deal with Jo’s obvious distress of losing her child without some form of assistance. Indeed, the times where Ben does get emotional, it is to his own detriment. His argument within the police station after the murder of Bernard does not convince the police inspector of his innocence, or the shouting of Hank’s name within the church serves him with a smack on the head. What Ben really needed was empathy and emotion; the highlight of which comes from Jo’s scream in the Opera that serves as the perfect foil to the assassination. Even the co-conspirator, Mrs. Drayton, possesses the same emotional instincts as Jo. She effectively becomes the mother to Hank in the third act and suggests milk and biscuits after being ordered to give Hank a sleeping pill. Her character arc culminates into her consoling Hank as the sounds of footsteps inch closer to them. She screams as Ben knocks the door down, reminiscent of Jo’s earlier cry of distress. The main conflicts are solved with the empathy of the women of the film, not the utilitarian decisions that Ben has made throughout the film.
Jo is the pathos in which Ben lacks. Without her, he lacks the necessary firepower to combat the forces of antagonism. He is “The Man Who Knew Too Much” because of what he represents as a patriarchal figure. He may know a lot about being a doctor, a husband, and a father, but emotionally, he is oblivious. Jo is the emotional crutch that Ben unknowingly needs. By the end, the trio is reestablished as a more unified family, with Ben and Jo ultimately sharing the same status of protector.
Works Cited
DeRosa, Steven. Writing with Hitchcock: The Collaboration of Alfred Hitchcock and John Michael Hayes. New York: Cinescribe Media, 2011.
Your analysis of the McKenna family dynamics is spot on, especially regarding the tension between Ben and Jo. This tensions comes from long before Marrakesh. To build on your point, Steven De Rosa’s Writing with Hitchcock highlights how the collaboration between Hitchcock and screenwriter John Michael Hayes was specifically designed to overhaul the 1934 original by injecting these complex and friction-filled familial dynamics. Hitchcock didn’t just want a thriller; he wanted to dramatize the “American Ideal”. By emphasizing Ben’s patriarchal dismissiveness toward Jo’s career, the film creates an internal conflict that is just as dangerous as the external. Ben’s “doctor’s logic” isn’t just a character trait; it’s a narrative wall he builds to maintain control, even when that control is clearly slipping.
I recently had the pleasure of experiencing this film on a grander scale by taking my children to see it at the Apollo with the class. It was such a beautiful moment of creative intersection for us, and the drive home turned into an incredible discussion that offered a fresh perspective across generations. While for the class I’d be more focused on the technical “Hitchcock touches,” my children were able to express the heart of the story.
My seven-year-old, in particular, gave me a perspective that stayed with me: they focused on how a mother’s love goes to any length to be heard. They recognized that while Ben was terrified and stuck in his logical head, Jo’s singing was the only thing that felt safe. To a child, that connection is a lifeline—Hank could recognize her voice anywhere because what was soothing to him in peace became his protection in danger. It’s a powerful irony that the title is The Man Who Knew Too Much; as it turns out, Ben didn’t know nearly enough. He knew the facts of the plot, but he knew too little about the emotional intuition required to actually save his own son. In the end, it was the voice he tried to silence that ultimately brought their child home.
This is an incredibly insightful analysis! I especially loved your comparison between Ben/Jo and Jefferies/Lisa from Rear Window. To expand on your point, it is fascinating how Hitchcock allows the women to use the very professions their husbands dismissed to save the day. Just as Lisa used her fashion-world agility and social grace to infiltrate Thorwald’s apartment, Jo uses her specific talent as a professional singer—her voice. It’s not just her scream at the Albert Hall that stops the assassination, but also her singing “Que Sera, Sera” at the embassy that ultimately locates Hank. Hitchcock perfectly weaponizes her dismissed identity as “Jo Conway” to dismantle the patriarchal silence Ben tried to impose on her. Great read!
Elijah it’s fascinating to see that Hitchcock who is often criticized about his treatment of women, that he made this film to show that feminine feeling is a superior tool for truth than masculine logic. I completely agree that Jo is the pathos. Her emotion especially her singing is what locates Hank. And a child always recognizes their mothers voice. Its a safe place literally what a child hears from the womb. Jo is the Hero in this movie for sure.