TITLE: Archive Review: Psycho (1960) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 9:52:00 PM ----- BODY:
Dir: Alfred Hitchcock

(SPOILERS) It’s hard to imagine a film so nearly encapsulating a whole genre, but Psycho is just a few feet of film away from being the perfect thriller. Contemporary movies with twists and surprises are somehow unsatisfying compared to the depth of trickery in this film. Unfortunately, it is now impossible to watch the movie with the naiveté of its first viewers. Can one imagine not knowing that the “psycho” of the title is actually this affable and timid Norman Bates? Is there any one who doesn’t think of the “Shower Sequence” when they hear the name of this movie? With the possible exception of Jaws is there a more familiar snippet of music than Bernard Herrmann’s shrieking strings?

Even knowing these things—the shock of the main star’s murder a third into the picture—there are still surprises, both in the story and the powerfully crafted film itself. Unless one it totally spoiled, there is still the mystery of finding out more of Norman’s mother. What is it that gives her this brash strength and homicidal thirst? Why can’t Norman leave her? How does he know to dump a car in the bog?

But say this is the fiftieth time one has viewed the film. There is the faultless acting, cinematography and scoring of this movie. Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is vulnerable as we are introduced to her in her white bra. But as she becomes a thief—something that appears wholly uncharacteristic and unplanned for her—we find her paranoid and cunning in black undergarments. She is now craftier, but retains discomfort, fear and a bit off our sympathy. Hitchcock immediately drags us into a sub-story of her paranoia as a Highway patrolman (Mort Mills) follows and talks with her. We are afraid because she is afraid. We are nervous because she is nervous.

Believing that Janet Leigh’s acting is the unsurpassable height of the film, we are quickly disarmed with Anthony Perkins’s Norman Bates. He is a sleek and polite boy-man. He flirts with Marion, but in the way a schoolboy flirts with a college girl. She is out of his league, but he persists. It isn't aggressive; it's even a bit sweet. And then we get a glimpse of something adult when Marion suggests he put his mother in a home. He takes the form of a watchdog, with the perfect balance of force and subtlety. Marion knows not to follow this line of questioning, but she is not entirely put off by him. He could easily redeem himself to her affections.

It's impossible to talk about this movie without mentioning the "Shower Sequence." It may be enough to say that it is, to this day, one of the most suggestive and violent sequences ever put onto film. It is brief and frantic, told by images, sound and music in a way that could never be conveyed in words or the documentary reality preferred in so many lesser films. It is the essence of a horror film and has never been duplicated.

The brilliance of Hitchcock is that even though he casts such an unforgettable and stark scene early in the film, we are still compelled to continue watching. Perhaps this is because of the unfolding plot. Very likely, it is the strangeness of Perkins’s character. If we offered our sympathies to Marion, the amateur thief, we are compelled to sympathize with Norman, the amateur accomplise to murder.

Hitchcock, like all artists, is always learning, always experimenting, and always drawing from his past experiences. In Psycho he may draw too heavily on the psychological exposition of his 1945 film Spellbound. As the movie draws to conclusion, Hitchcock inserts an unnecessary and distracting explanation. (Perhaps he learned from Psycho that it is not necessary to explain all things, as ambiguity is essential to 1963’s The Birds. )

Through a psychiatrist, everything about Norman is explained and somehow everything is less terrifying. If only—dare I say—he would have cut this scene from the movie, choosing to instead move from the apprehension of “Norman’s mother” to the police officers delivering a blanket to Norman. We understand what we need to understand without being patronized by a character who was never part of the story. But Hitchcock still gives us that last perfect scene, as Norman sits in the blanket and grants clemency to a fly. If only Hitchcock would not have granted clemency to the psychiatrist, Psycho would have been perfect.

****1/2 of *****

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