Summary:
A secretary steals forty thousand dollars and absconds from Phoenix, but things take a turn for the worse after she checks into a motel run by a peculiar young man and his domineering mother.
My Thoughts:
What can I say about a film that has been written about and lauded over by audiences and critics alike for more than sixty years? Probably not much, but I’ll do my best…
“Psycho” is a masterpiece of both filmmaking and storytelling, and it’s also probably one of the most influential films ever made (no hyperbole needed). While Alfred Hitchcock’s career is stuffed to the gills with thrilling, horrific stories (“Frenzy”, “The Birds”) and intriguing mysteries (“Vertigo”, “Rope”), this film is sort of the best of both worlds; it starts off as one thing and morphs into something entirely different. “Psycho” has some of the best subversions of expectations I’ve seen brought to screen, and that’s only looking at this movie from a storytelling standpoint; from a filmmaking standpoint, this film is a technical marvel, and that infamous shower scene is to this day being touted as one of the best edited minutes of cinema history (if you’ve got the time, check out the documentary “78/52”- about the seventy-eight setups and fifty-two cuts used in the scene). This is my personal favorite of Hitch’s films, and I think it’s also the best thing he ever made (sorry “Vertigo”, “Notorious”, “Rear Window”, “North By Northwest”, and “Rebecca”).
I do find it’s difficult to discuss this film without acknowledging the twists that happen near the end, so expect that this review will have spoilers speckled throughout. The movie is over sixty years old; it’s not like you haven’t had time to watch it.
“We all go a little mad sometimes.”
Marion Crane (Janet Leigh, “The Fog”) is a secretary in Phoenix, whom, after stealing forty thousand dollars from her boss, leaves the city to meet her lover Sam Loomis (John Gavin, “Spartacus”) in California. On a rainy night the day after she leaves, Marion checks into the Bates Motel, a small, insignificant establishment not far off the main road. There, Marion meets Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins, “Psycho II”), whom owns the motel with his domineering mother. That night, Marion goes missing, and Marion’s sister Lila (Vera Miles, “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”) hires an investigator named Arbogast (Martin Balsam, “12 Angry Men”) whom helps her to track down Sam; the three of them go looking for Marion.
So, lets talk about the writing and subversion of expectations first. I remember first watching this movie before high school and being absolutely floored that they killed off Marion Crane, who I had assumed was the protagonist, about forty-five minutes into the film (it’s sort of like Eddard Stark’s death at the end of Game of Thrones season one). I’m sure that sort of structure had been followed before (and it’s certainly been replicated since), but when I was a young film watcher, that sort of twist was pretty shocking. What makes that moment even more shocking is the way that Marion’s character changes, ever so subtlety, throughout her journey, and the moment in which she was murdered is also the moment directly after when she started to make a change for the better, only to have her life snuffed out before she can right her wrong actions.
When Marion first steals the money, she does so because her lover, Sam, claims he doesn’t have enough money to marry her immediately; the action of taking the money isn’t planned or thought out, it’s impulsive. Her actions after stealing the money are also impulsive; she does things simply to cover up other actions: she drives as far as she can out of town before stopping the first night, and then when a patrolman stops her and investigates, she knows her car will now be easily tracked, so she buys another car in cash. She’s constantly moving, just trying to stay ahead of those that are chasing her, but when she gets to the Bates Motel and finally has time to sit and process her thoughts as Norman feeds her dinner, her outlook on the situation begins to change; she starts thinking about how she can repay the $700 she used to purchase the car. It’s as if Robert Bloch (author of the book on which this is based) wants you to cheer for Marion to do the right thing, expects you to expect her to do the right thing, before he kills her and you realize that it’s too late for Marion. I still remember the first time I watched this film, my stomach plummeted as Marion’s brand new car sinks slowly into the swamp out back, thinking to myself: what happens now? Where do we go now that our main character is dead and half the film remains?
I suppose since we’re talking about the shower scene already, we might as well talk about the editing. I honestly think that shower scene is one of the most impressive scenes I’ve ever seen brought to screen in terms of editing, but the story behind that scene is just as cool. In 1960, the censor’s power had more or less started to dwindle (they certainly weren’t as strict as they’d been during the 40s and 50s), but those censors still did have some sway (“Psycho” is the first time a toilet was seen onscreen and flushed- how’s that for censorship?). In order to appease the censors, Hitch edited the scene so that the knife is never seen entering Marion’s body; instead, the editing is so frenetic and intense that the scene feels more chaotic and violent than it actually is. Apparently, when showing the censors the film, Hitch refuted their claims saying that they thought they saw a knife entering skin: “You thought you did, but you didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t do the things you told me not to do. I was a good boy.”
That’s Hitch for you: dry, sardonic, and hilarious.
That shower scene wouldn’t be complete without the amazing score that accompanies this movie. The score in the shower sequence is incredibly jarring- loud high-pitched screeching strings eventually devolving into heavy, deep, drawn out tones. At first, it perfectly captures the terror and dread, but as Marion dies and her blood washes down the drain, the music changes and becomes a kind of dreary acceptance of her death. The music throughout the film is amazing, though; it’s not just the shower scene where the score excels. The theme for Psycho is fast-paced and intense; urgent, high-strung, and unsettling; again it fits the film perfectly.
The acting is also amazing. I think Janet Leigh is a perfect Marion Crane, because she’s simultaneously someone whom you can sympathize with and someone whom seems to be hiding something. Leigh is able to convey Crane’s uneasy feeling as she makes her way across the country with stolen money, but the way that her character is written- the way she starts to doubt her own actions- makes her easier to relate to; she’s not a bad person, she just did a bad thing in the heat of a moment (after all, we all go a little mad sometimes, don’t we?). The way that Leigh lures the viewer into sympathizing with her makes it all the more shocking when she’s then murdered in an entirely brutal way.
Bates is, in many ways, a lot like Marion. He is a seemingly innocent man when we first meet him; a little odd, a little sheltered perhaps, but the first impression he gives is far from that of a dangerous man. It’s not until after Marion goes into her room to take a shower, and the camera stays behind with Norman to reveal him removing a picture from a wall to peer through a hole into her adjoining room that we realize Norman might not be who he seems. But even though we’re cued into the fact that Norman might be a little off, the full extent of Norman’s madness isn’t revealed until the end of the film; in fact, we the viewers are lead to believe that Norman’s mother, whom up until this point we’ve only heard off screen, is responsible for Marion’s murder. That misleading information allows us, the viewers, to sort of relate to Norman, because if Norman himself wasn’t responsible for the murders, and instead is only helping to clean up to help protect his overbearing, crazy mother, that action doesn’t seem as bad (sure, he’s still a party to murder, but he’s not the party). Perkins portrays Norman in such a way that he’s simultaneously off-putting and compelling.
Honestly, my only flaw with this movie is the last scene where the psychiatrist just explains to the audience what is going on. The scene is just a five-minute monologue that could’ve been summed up in the psychiatrists opening lines: “I got the whole story, but not from Norman; I got it from his mother. Norman Bates no longer exists. He only half existed to begin with, and now the other half is taking over. Probably for all time.”
Okay, sweet; that’s all we need. Norman is crazy and thinks he’s his mom. The rest of the monologue, where the psychiatrist goes over, in explicit detail, that Norman thought he was his mother and killed only when he had snapped, is pretty unneeded. Still, whom am I to tell Hitch how to do his job? Sixty years ago, maybe that kind of drawn out explanation was needed for the audience to understand, but nowadays it’s a little like hitting your audience over the head with a cartoonishly oversized wooden mallet.
It’s a very small bone to pick with an otherwise practically flawless flick.
Verdict:
“Psycho” is one of the great masterpieces of cinema, one that will forever be replicated and never duplicated (looking at you Gus Van Sant’s remake of “Psycho”). While modern audiences wont find this film as horrifying as some modern horror flicks, I still think the story is undeniably thrilling and intense, and when it comes to the technical aspects, it’s a master class of filmmaking.
Review Written By: