Blogging By Cinema-light: Don't Make a Scene: Psycho (1960)

The Story: For all the gymnastics Alfred Hitchcock puts the cinema through in Psycho—the crazy angles, the precipitous dolly-shots, and the jagged, ginzu-hack editing of the shower murder scene, the scariest move—the most disturbing—maybe the penultimate shot before the end. And it's a simple, relentless trucking move forward, one of the earliest inventions of the cinema, at least when someone figured out how to put wheels on a camera.

Add to that the subtle acting of Anthony Perkins—the self-contained quick eye movements, the hint of a smile, the worried-mother furrowed brows. That final smile that lived on in other people's films.

Hitchcock, after making the blockbuster North By Northwest for M-G-M, went back to his Paramount contract to fulfill its last film and had been noticing the large box-office of small budget horror films (I strongly suspect they were made by William Castle as he didn't consider them very good) and thought "what if someone made a GOOD one?" And about that time, he read the reviews for Robert Bloch's book "Psycho" and decided that would be his next project.

The studios he approached with the idea wouldn't finance such a horrific project, but Hitchcock figured "why not? If they can make a success of a low budget horror film, so can I." So, he mortgaged his house, bought the film rights, decided to make it in black-and-white (lest it be too gory—besides Castle did it!) and filmed it with his television crew from "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and made the film as he wanted. He filmed on the Universal Studios back-lot (cheaper that way) for a Paramount Pictures release. And to toss in a stunt akin to William Castle's little theater pranks, he based his ad campaign on a stipulation: NO one would be seated in the theater after Psycho had begun. It was a strict rule—after all, anybody coming in 40 minutes into the film would wonder where Janet Leigh figured into all of it. Such a thing only created "buzz" about the film, and as long as it got curious people into theaters, what could it hurt? At least he wasn't flying skeletons around in the theater or wiring peoples' seats with joy-buzzers as Castle had.

So, William Castle begat Alfred Hitchcock making Psycho. But, there's another "begat" in the process. I think Psycho begat "The Kubrick Stare"* where one of his protagonists would lower their gaze while addressing the camera with a stare, a grin, a look of horror, or triumph, or of malevolence. And it started with Anthony Perkins and the penultimate shot of Psycho.

One could look at the history of cinema as one long chain of innovation in dramatic communication from The Great Train Robbery to the present day. Everybody borrows from someone. Some just borrow more artfully than others.

SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!

If you haven't seen Psycho (and the film is 64 years old! There's gotta be a Statute of Limitations SOME-time!), then read no further because the rest of the article is going to spoil ONE of the surprises in Alfred Hitchcock's first out-and-out horror film. But, one has to say, the culture is so festooned with Psycho references that if you are capable of being surprised, then I'd like to sub-let the rock you've been hiding under for the next four years.

No. Truly. All kidding aside. From here on out, this post is going to be spilling beans just like Bush's elderly great-grandmother, Lima (and she uses a walker!).

So, if this post spoils Psycho for you—don't say you weren't warned!

The Set-Up: The disappearance of apparent embezzler Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) leads her lover (John Gavin) and sister (Vera Miles) to her last known location, the Bates Motel, run by Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) and his invalid mother (Virginia Gregg). Fearing the worst, Marion's sister explores the Bates house and is attacked by a mad-woman, who turns out to be actually Norman Bates. Norman is institutionalized for Marion's murder, but, now his personality is completely taken over by the persona of his dead mother, whom he also murdered years ago.

Action.

INT. NORMAN'S DETENTION ROOM - (NIGHT) The walls are white and plain. There is no window. There is no furniture except the straight-back chair in which Norman sits, in the center of the room. The room has a quality of no-whereness, of calm separation from the world. The Police Guard has placed the blanket on Norman's knees. Norman, as we come upon him, is lifting the blanket, unfolding it. His face, although without makeup and without the surrounding softness of the wig, has a certain femininity about it, a softness about the mouth and a kind of arch womanliness about the brows.

Calmly, Norman places the blanket about his shoulders, as if it were a cashmere shawl. CAMERA REMAINS in a position so that our view of Norman is a FULL ONE. When the shawl is in position, and Norman is settled, we HEAR, OVER SHOT, the voice of his mother, coming from the calm of his thoughts.

MOTHER'S VOICE (O.S.) It's sad... when a mother has to speak the words that condemn her own son... but I couldn't allow them to believe that I would commit murder. (A pause)

MOTHER'S VOICE (V.O.) They'll put him away now... as I should have... years ago. He was always... bad. And in the end, he intended to tell them I killed those girls... and that man.