Art by Rodent
Writing about Psycho is not a task that I'm new to; if you ask me to explain everything that I love about this movie, I could go on for much longer than what would be deemed appropriate. For all the great movies I've discovered since first seeing it, there are still times when I feel like Hitchcock's iconic classic may be my favorite film of all time. Certainly, I know it better than any other movie; I've seen it countless times, on the big screen, in my home, with friends, scene-by-scene during a summer course at a local university. Hell, I've read a whole book on it. I'd say that at this point I know Psycho inside and out, but with a movie of this quality, I don't have any doubt that there's always more to discover.
I suppose I'll always have a deeply emotional attachment to Psycho (and yes, I realize this is a very strange film to be emotionally attached to), since without it, I never would've been set down the path to cinematic enlightenment that it began me on. Obviously, it takes a very special movie to do this, and Psycho is just that - a triumph of thrills and suspense matched by some very unsettling things to say about human nature.
Everyone knows the story - Marion Crane is a young secretary who steals $40,000 from her employer in order to pay for her boyfriend’s alimony payments and their marriage. On the run from the police, Marion hastily checks into the Bates Motel and meets its proprietor, Norman. Following their dinner conversation, Marion retires to her room for a sin-cleansing shower, and the twist that follows is well-known even to those who have never seen the film. This first act is perhaps the finest 40 minutes of Hitchcock’s career.
After Marion’s grisly demise, her boyfriend and sister are tasked with unraveling Hitchcock’s darkest and most chilling mystery. Of course, it is the film’s shocking Shower Scene that preserves its legend; Psycho single-handedly birthed the entire slasher genre and changed cinema forever. A significant turning point in the director’s career, its black-and-white cinematography (shot by the camera crew of Alfred Hitchcock Presents) was a far cry from the showy, bold Technicolor spectacles that Hitch was directing throughout the 1950s. And the level of violence and sexuality depicted in the film was unprecedented in a mainstream Hollywood movie and paved the way for much greater degrees of edginess in American cinema.
But enough about the vast influence of this great movie. On its own, Psycho is still a masterpiece - with a small budget, Hitchcock turned a grisly potboiler into the most thrilling movie of all time. There is something intriguingly sinister about the film's premise, and after countless viewings it never ceases to draw me in every single time.
Much of the endless appeal of Psycho's narrative relies on Hitchcock's gift for manipulating his audiences. One of the most stunning displays of directorial sleight-of-hand I've ever seen comes not long after the famous Shower Scene, when Norman is finishing his clean-up job by sinking Marion's car in the swamp. I'll never forget my astonishment when I realized that I actually wanted that car to sink; in a single scene, Hitchcock subverted my sympathies away from the young secretary that I had been following for the past 45 minutes to this strange, quirky young man who now also happens to be an accessory to murder. It is at this point when Psycho really begins to tread into disturbing territory. I no longer knew a whole lot about the protagonist, and only once it's too late did I discover the film had morphed into a portrait of a hideously diseased mind.
And speaking of dear Norman, no look at Psycho is complete without delving into this great character. Perkins' performance belongs up there with the all-time greats; his quirks and ticks contribute to his development as one of the most enigmatic characters in all of Hitchcock, so when I finally discovered the truth about him I knew I was in the presence of one of the most horrifying of all movie villains.
The "human nature" aspect of Psycho has become, on recent viewings, one of my favorite things about the film, yet this is rarely commented on. Maybe that's because most of the credit for it belongs not to Hitchcock, but to screenwriter Joseph Stefano. After the financial and critical failure of Vertigo, it's probable that Hitchcock was none too eager to delve further into "deep themes". Yet Psycho can be read in a number of ways. The deepest layer I have yet found is the idea of an escape from society - many of the principle characters seek a way to better their unsatisfactory lives in some way. Marion tries to escape her dull existence as a secretary to marry her boyfriend, Norman wants to get away from his isolation but cannot leave his "mother", Sam wants to build a better life with Marion but must give his ex-wife alimony payments. Yet all of their efforts fail once they are caught up in the web of madness found within the Bates Motel. This reading of the film is best summed up by Norman's great quote in the motel parlor with Marion: "I think that we're all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch."
The other major theme of Psycho that I find most interesting is one that seems to turn up in many of my favorite movies: the notion of personal duality. Not only are most of the main characters seeking escape from their "private traps", but they also each hide parts of themselves (often their dark selves) from the rest of society. Marion lies to steal money and dodges the probing suspicions of a police officer and a used car dealer, among others. Norman secretly keeps his mother's corpse in the fruit cellar and kills women who come to his hotel, but outwardly he appears boyish and charming. Even Sam and Lila put up a false front when investigating the Bates Motel. The film seems to suggest that all of us have inner selves capable of amorality lurking within.
Does all of this sound a bit depressing? Don't be fooled; there's plenty of humor to be found in Psycho. Dark comedy has always been a specialty of Hitchcock's, yet for some reason it took longer for me to find it in Psycho, perhaps due to the film's naturally sordid subject matter. However, it is precisely because of this that Hitchcock's trademark gallows humor is put to such effective use in the movie.
So not only is Psycho immensely enthralling and gripping in a way that perhaps no other movie is, but it also possesses a great deal of commentary on the human condition, a quality for which the film rarely receives the recognition it deserves. And it's funny, too. Combine all this with impeccable direction, an unforgettable slashing string score, and one of the most terrifying villains in film history, and what more can one ask for? The result is a near-flawless work of art, and a film that I'm honored to have nominated for the MoFo Movie Hall of Fame. ~ by Hitchfan97
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And also very pleased to see The Apartment recognised. I love that movie.