The Man Who Knew Too Much Comes Ashore --- Part Two

Gaumont-British trade-showed The Man Who Knew Too Much, along with four other titles, to UK exhibitors in late November 1934. Highest hopes were pinned to a George Arliss historical, The Iron Duke, which saw US release, but others of the group had mostly Brit isles appeal, The Man Who Knew Too Much thought worthy of a crossing thanks to what Variety's London correspondent called "one of the most important casts in some time." Early March 1935 saw trade ads beginning to US-appear, Gaumont advance- promoting The Man Who Knew Too Much along with Arliss, a yet untitled Conrad Veidt vehicle, plus harder sells Jack Hulbert and singing Jan Kiepura. Said ads pushed "Public Enemy No. 1 Of All The World" Peter Lorre as "The Arch Criminal Of All Crime ... Of All Time." Gaumont's release date for The Man Who Knew Too Much, with prints distributed via Fox exchanges, was set for 4/15, this following 3/22 premiere at Broadway's Mayfair Theatre (2,200 seats).

The British cinema, never known for its command of filmic pace, goes in for a blistering style of story-telling in The Man Who Knew Too Much, said The New York Times in its 3/23/35 review. The backhand complement was assurance that this was not your ordinary (read dull) UK import, Hitchcock's staccato violence making for a swiftest melodrama since Warner's Fog Over Frisco. The director had risen above photography and lighting said to be inferior in comparison with Hollywood effort, said the Times' Andre Sennwald, a condescending posture US critics routinely took with regard imports. A follow-up article (3/31) called Peter Lorre "Poet Of The Damned" in accord with Gaumont hopes that his performance in M would be remembered and lure trade to The Man Who Knew Too Much. The Mayfair's third week got further attention for an off-shore show hanging on so long, a Times' 4/7 column titled Meet London's Mr. Hitchcock. Here was occasion for the newly hot director to air views on melodrama and how he'd redefine it. "Antique devices" are out, said the "rotund, many-chinned" Hitchcock as he persevered on a newest, The 39 Steps, a spy successor hoping to out-thrill The Man Who Knew Too Much.

The bar was high for Brit pix beyond urban and sophisticated environs. Despite a common lingo, they carried an onus bad as ones attached to foreign talkies from elsewhere. Brit native and booster of all things from there William K. Everson wrote of barriers to US acceptance of UK product: For the most part, they were too long, too slow, too dialogue-ridden, and too crude technically to match American and the best European sound standards. Everson felt it was 1932-33 before Britain began regaining lost ground. Success for Korda's The Private Life Of Henry VIII in 1933 would demonstrate strides that The Man Who Knew Too Much confirmed (though there had been trade raves for an excellent UK thriller, Rome Express, distributed by Universal in 1933, but it didn't have so much exposure as The Man Who Knew Too Much). Variety's review of The Man Who Knew Too Much acknowledged a paucity of names for the US, but said it ought to please audiences provided they could be coaxed in. There was expected dig at British idiom: A cop walks on and says, "I'd rather be on point duty." That's alright in London, but who in New York knows that what he's trying to say is, "I'd rather be a traffic cop." Such was abiding curse on imports: America's demand that they adhere to our customs and speech, an expectation as unreasonable as it was impossible to fulfill.

New York's Mayfair success was a surprise, with a "very good" $11,000 in its first week, $8,000 "or thereabouts" for a second, that estimate adjusted up when word-of-mouth brought the total to $11,000, equal to the first frame and assuring there'd be a third. The total of four Mayfair weeks, remarkable for an outsider pic with no major names, was trade-trumpeted and led to circuit bookings and willingness of other key cities to have a go. Manhattan huzzahs must not have been heard in Brooklyn, however: their 4,000 seat Fox Theatre took a chance with The Man Who Knew Too Much and a stage show to an "unexciting" $12K for an opener week (larger auditoriums meant greater numbers needed to fill them). A customer complaint to Fox management cited a "shooting and killing" scene in The Man Who Knew Too Much followed immediately by afternoon tea, an "English custom," said Variety. The irate patron wanted a refund for the "abrupt transition," claiming that the picture "had been cut."

Business elsewhere for The Man Who Knew Too Much was promising, Variety by September referring to it as "the first action film from England." A "going strong" combo of Too Much and Columbia's White Lies saw the pair filling in for a withdrawn Bride Of Frankenstein, the chiller's slump in its last two days prompting a bum's rush out of Buffalo's Lafayette Theatre. Peter Lorre build-up was credited with "brisk" trade at the Warner in Pittsburgh, and "critical raves" helped The Man Who Knew Too Much score well in Philadelphia. Further west dates varied. San Francisco acknowledged rhapsodic print response for the Hitchcock thriller, but reviews never pull Joe Doakes into the films in this man's town, said Embassy Theatre management. Lincoln, Nebraska's August play at its Varsity Theatre had The Man Who Knew Too Much playing in opposition to next door Colonial's run of Peter Lorre in just-released Mad Love. PL's novel take on villainy was probably what gave The Man Who Knew Too Much much of success it enjoyed, at least in Middle America play-off.

An Actual Kidnapping
Helped This Booking

Real-life events tied in to enhance Seattle's run. The Tacoma kidnapping of a nine-year-old boy in May 1935 preceded The Man Who Knew Too Much by mere weeks, and the Orpheum capitalized heavy on ways the film linked with ongoing headlines. By June 1, little George Weyerhaeuser had been recovered and The Man Who Knew Too Much was about to open. Playdates coincided with investigation and capture of the gang, our FBI's efficiency not unlike that of London police closing in on Peter Lorre's child-snatching bunch. Was Hitchcock made aware of serendipitous circumstance of Seattle's Man Who Knew Too Much booking? If so, he'd have been at the least amused, if not inspired to fake a similar event when time came to bally 1956's remake. I wouldn't put that past such a consummate showman as Hitchcock.