Chilling, thrilling and absolutely remarkable!

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Produced during the period when Alfred Hitchcock created his most gripping work, Psycho is the original archetypal horror movie and an essential piece of filmic history. It's the ultimate spine-tingler, the definitive slasher, and the perfect chiller. In the decades prior to helming Psycho, Hitchcock had delighted in astonishing and scaring audiences. However, never had Hitchcock engaged in full-on, straight-up horror until this macabre riposte to the schlock frighteners of the late 1950s.

Psycho has been imitated often, but never surpassed. This is suitably evidenced by almost 50 years of slasher flicks (like John Carpenter's brilliant original Halloween and the crappy Friday the 13th series) including the film's own sequels (that varied in quality), a TV movie spin-off and, in particular, Gus Van Sant's utterly woeful 1998 remake. Furthermore, this Hitchcock masterpiece is a reason why people these days lock the bathroom door while having a shower.

Psycho is more than the great granddaddy of all slashers; it is also an excellent thriller, a quality black comedy, and a valuable lesson in filmmaking. It's a landmark movie for its application of realistic violence, shock, subtle humour and surprise. Virtually every modern horror film and thriller owes its allegiance to Psycho.

Back in 1959, no-one could believe that the Master of Suspense was going to direct a movie with a mere $800,000 budget in a measly thirty-day period (seven of these days were spent shooting the shower scene, which is packed with 87 cross-cuts in its frenzied 45 seconds) using the crew from his TV series, Alfred Hitchcock Presents. People also couldn't understand why Hitchcock was helming a filmic adaptation of a pulp novel by Robert Bloch which was influenced by the gruesome career of the Wisconsin serial killer Ed Gein. The audience reaction at the time must have been quite similar to the mutual bewilderment when news broke out that Gus Van Sant intended to direct a shot-for-shot remake of this very masterpiece.

Upon release, Psycho was panned by quite a number of critics across the country. Nevertheless people lined up for the movie for blocks (there are stories of queues as long as three miles at drive-in cinemas), it became popular among audiences, and within a few months most critics had changed their opinion. Before long Hitchcock was nominated for an Academy Award, and Psycho was considered one of the best films of the year. In the subsequent decades it was being featured on lists of the best shockers, best suspense thrillers, and, eventually, best films of all time.

All and sundry should be familiar with the straightforward plot of Psycho. If you're unaware of the storyline, surely you've witnessed at least one of the thousands of lampoons and parodies of the acclaimed shower scene. It's hard to imagine anyone not knowing the plot of this masterpiece. For the sake of this reviewer's writing traditions, I'll provide a reasonably brief synopsis.
Marion Crane (Leigh) works as an assistant at a real estate agency in Phoenix, Arizona. She's a struggling working girl, and she's fed up with the way life is treating her. The only way she can see her lover Sam Loomis (Gavin) is if she sneaks out during her extended lunch breaks. Marion wants to marry Sam, but they have insufficient funds to commence a new life together. On a seemingly regular Friday afternoon, Marion's employer entrusts her with an enormous cash sum of $40,000. She's instructed to deposit the money at the bank. However, Marion's instinct tells her that this money could be her last chance at a new life. She steals the money and leaves town. On a fiercely stormy night, Marion stops at the Bates Motel. At this enigmatic location Marion encounters Norman Bates (Perkins): the shy-but-kind manager who's happy to offer her a room for the night and a sympathetic ear. But too long has the Bates Motel been under the authority of Norman's mother, and this night concludes with the immortal shower scene. In the weeks following Marion's murder, her family and friends grow worried and suspicious. Unfortunately for Norman Bates, things escalate when the investigation begins.

Plot-wise, Psycho isn't anything extraordinary. The film's true ingeniousness lies in its edifice. Director Hitchcock and screenwriter Joseph Stafano developed this masterpiece in such a way that it constantly defies expectations and eliminates any sense of predictability. There are two key surprises: the shower scene murder and the final shocking revelation (this ending still shocks me even after watching the film countless times). A viewer who watches Psycho for the first time without any knowledge about either surprise will experience the full impact of Hitchcock's intentions. In fact, the impact is weaker these days because the shower scene is so frequently discussed and so well-known. The greatest shock for a first-time audience member is the early exit of Marion Crane. This is doubly unanticipated because up to this point the script has tricked us into accepting Marion as the main character. When events dispel that illusion, and the point-of-view shifts to Norman Bates, viewers are justifiably baffled. In order to keep this aspect of the film secret when Psycho opened in theatres in 1960, no advance screenings were held, no-one was admitted to a showing after the feature had started, and Hitchcock purchased every copy of Robert Bloch's novel he could find.

To this day, audiences never forget how scary and disturbing Psycho truly is. People still have trouble taking a shower because of it (Janet Leigh reportedly never took a shower ever again after filming concluded). If you're looking for blood and gore, look elsewhere. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or a Friday the 13th entry will be more to your liking. Psycho has a grand total of about two minutes (if that!) of actual violence in it. Yet these are the most unforgettable two minutes of violence in film history. Alfred Hitchcock was a magician and a director. The violence was done with mirrors, trick shots, and general illusions. The viewer comes away swearing they've witnessed more than they've actually seen. For example, at no point in Psycho do we ever see a knife penetrate the skin. The murders are done with quick flashes, expert editing, and realistic sounds (the stabbing noises were actually a recording of Hitchcock stabbing melons with a kitchen knife).
Let's not forget about the music. The film is offered an absolutely riveting score courtesy of Hitchcock regular Bernard Herrmann. Without the chilling sound of Herrman's music the film would lose about half its intensity. Psycho is probably the best instance in cinematic history of music effectively strengthening action and intensity.

Hitchcock purposely made the film in black & white because he thought it'd be too gory in colour! Hitchcock dabbled in cinematic taboos and pushed the censorship envelope with Psycho. In fact this was the first American motion picture to feature a toilet being flushed (up until then movies didn't even acknowledge the existence of toilets). Janet Leigh is also shown in her underwear on more than one occasion, and it's possible to see hints of flesh (mainly belonging to a body double) during the shower scene. The script also features a character speaking the word "transvestite" - a line that survived the censor only after a Herculean struggle on Stafano's part.

Anthony Perkins' perfect performance as Norman Bates is a brilliant mix of sincerity, charisma and impenetrable insanity. In the Robert Bloch novel the character of Norman Bates was a fat and balding middle-aged voyeur. To make the character more sympathetic, screenwriter Stafano reworked Bates in order for Perkins to suit the role.
Janet Leigh was nominated for an Oscar. Her performance is also quite extraordinary.
According to various actors who worked with the Master of Suspense, Hitchcock was a director never particularly concerned with the acting in his movies. Apparently he was more of a technician. Hitchcock (known more affectionately as "Hitch" to his collaborators) knew precisely what he wanted actors to do, and he expected them to do it. Most of the acting in Psycho is in fact quite perfunctory. Janet Leigh was the one who got an Oscar nomination, but it's Anthony Perkins' indelible performance that everyone remembers. Perkins delivers one of the cinema's most frightening and extraordinary performances. Perkins became so identified with Norman Bates that it changed the trajectory of his career. For years following Psycho, Perkins shunned talking about the part until he finally made peace with Norman in the 70s, and at long last returned to play the role in sequels.

Alfred Hitchcock's name has become synonymous with Psycho. If Hitch's name pops up in conversation, people will usually associate him with Psycho or Rear Window or Vertigo or The Birds. Hitchcock's Psycho is so incredibly influential and unspeakably brilliant. Many believe that John Carpenter's Halloween was the mother of the slasher genre. It became responsible for the Scream films and many other modern slashers. Yet, as important as Halloween was to the horror genre during the 80s and 90s, John Carpenter's thriller didn't invent this brand of terror...it re-invented it by paying tribute to one of the most frightening films of all time: Psycho. Not only did Halloween star Jamie Lee Curtis (Janet Leigh's daughter) but the character name of "Sam Loomis" was re-used.

Visually rich, unbearably intense and absolutely terrifying, no-one has ever done it better than Hitchcock and no-one ever will. As the film's shocking revelation is revealed, I always get goosebumps. These are the consequence of a combination of several elements: the shocking imagery, the sound, and the haunting music. Several argue that Psycho is Hitchcock's best movie. In my opinion that honour goes to Rear Window, although it's incredibly close.
Today, Psycho still holds up amazingly well. With the possible exception of Halloween and perhaps Scream, no latter-day horror/thriller has been capable of generating as many goosebumps as Psycho. The black and white photography is perfect for the film's tone and mood - colour would have blurred the nightmarish quality. The painstaking way in which Hitchcock composed every scene is evident in the quality of the final product. This is the most notorious title in the Hitchcock canon. It moves from one memorable scene to the next. It rattles along at a brisk pace, and before you know it the film is over. This was my introduction to Hitchcock and I've been viewing more of the director's work ever since.

Comments

AgentLexi

Posted : 1 year, 1 month ago at Oct 19 8:14

Excellent Review. :D

Reminds me, I need to re-do mine.