God I hate that song. Pretty toothless by Hitch's standards, with only one extraordinary sequence—not Albert Hall (which mostly impresses by dint of being shot on location; as suspense filmmaking it's distinguished only via our inability to hear the dialogue), but the scene in which Jimmy Stewart's doctor more or less blackmails his wife into taking heavy sedatives (telling her they're mild tranquilizers) before revealing that their son has been kidnapped.
All right, you will say, but what about the suspense? A booby-trap? I don't think so, here even less than in the other films. Firstly, because the extraordinary serves as a foil for the ordinary, which, left to its own devices, would engender nothing but dullness. Secondly, one must admit, because Hitchcock believes in destiny. . . . Hitchcock cunningly presents us with a well-bred destiny, speaking the language of the drawing room rather than German philosophy.