Reviewed by Brett Schummer
May 1/14
Original Score: 5/5
May 1/14
Original Score: 5/5
Alfred Hitchcock stabs a hole in the thriller genre with the psychological horror flick Psycho.
This adaptation of the 1959 novel of the same name remains atop the lists of "Greatest Films Ever" for many critics. The film tells the tale of bank secretary-turned-thief Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) as she steals $40,000 and finds herself under the residence and acute watch of motel owner Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins). Her flee from the authorities draws the attention of her concerned sister Lila Crane (Vera Miles) and her regrettably broke boyfriend Sam Loomis (John Gavin), who in turn decide to chase her down the rabbit hole into an entangled mess.
There's not much about this film I can say that a quick Wikipedia search wouldn't easily top. The cinematography is top notch, the editing is excellent, the acting is good, the suspense is suspenseful, the direction is directed.
I like how this film furthers Hitchcock's interest in the theme of windows. In Hitchcock's other work (especially Rear Window) this theme is notable, and Psycho is no exception.
When you examine the window scenes they almost always relate to spying, or a sense of intimacy. Take the intro of the film for example, the film opens after the title sequence to show Phoenix, Arizona. The camera slowly draws in on a single window and into the scene. The blinds are shut in the apartment of Marion Crane and Sam Loomis, and it is clear to the audience that the two were making love. Introducing the characters in this setting immediately creates a sense of vulnerability that quickly makes the characters relatable to the audience (I won't even mention the fact that there's an uneaten sandwich on the nightstand). This sense of intimacy is always shown through spying beyond a window/vale and continually adds to the vulnerability throughout the movie.
Take the scene where Norman is peeping on Marion through a hole behind a painting. In this scene, we once again see Marion dressing in an intimate setting. This time Norman is looking beyond and peering into Marion's room, and essentially her inner being/self. The audience knows she's vulnerable and feels a little disturbed watching her.
There's not much about this film I can say that a quick Wikipedia search wouldn't easily top. The cinematography is top notch, the editing is excellent, the acting is good, the suspense is suspenseful, the direction is directed.
I like how this film furthers Hitchcock's interest in the theme of windows. In Hitchcock's other work (especially Rear Window) this theme is notable, and Psycho is no exception.
When you examine the window scenes they almost always relate to spying, or a sense of intimacy. Take the intro of the film for example, the film opens after the title sequence to show Phoenix, Arizona. The camera slowly draws in on a single window and into the scene. The blinds are shut in the apartment of Marion Crane and Sam Loomis, and it is clear to the audience that the two were making love. Introducing the characters in this setting immediately creates a sense of vulnerability that quickly makes the characters relatable to the audience (I won't even mention the fact that there's an uneaten sandwich on the nightstand). This sense of intimacy is always shown through spying beyond a window/vale and continually adds to the vulnerability throughout the movie.
Take the scene where Norman is peeping on Marion through a hole behind a painting. In this scene, we once again see Marion dressing in an intimate setting. This time Norman is looking beyond and peering into Marion's room, and essentially her inner being/self. The audience knows she's vulnerable and feels a little disturbed watching her.
The idea of a window or vale being the key to the intimate or vulnerable moments is encapsulated in the shower scene. The audience watches as Marion closes the door to the bathroom, undresses (this time undressing in contrast to earlier when she dresses), and pulls the shower curtain across. The audience is with Marion in this intimate moment, going past the veil and watching her in her most vulnerable moment. At the same time, the audience knows Norman had been spying on her. When Norman's Mother comes in, she pulls the curtain aside and stabs Marion to death. This symbolism of throwing the curtain open is equivalent to throwing open the shutter and revealing you had been spying. Once the wall of intimacy is broken, the main character is killed, along with any privacy they once had.
Along with the initial death, Hitchcock follows up Marion's death scene with a shot of her clenching onto the curtain. This reinforces the concept of the veil of intimacy, as she clenches the last connection she has to it in her dying actions. Once she does finally accept death, she releases the curtain, falling to the ground, thereby providing closure to the character.
This concept holds up for Norman's character, as he is paranoid of people staring into the window of the house. The window in which his mother sits is a window into his inner mind, representing the divide between the mother and himself. It is very intimate and personal to him, and he tries very hard to preserve that privacy. In characters discovering what lies beyond his window, he is effectively destroyed.
One other thing I feel I must touch on is the editing of the shower sequence. It has come to my attention that other reviewers have been quick to criticize the realism of this sequence. I feel it's very important that I stress the insignificance of the realism of this scene. Had Hitchcock played a wide shot in which Marion is stabbed, there would be no tension or horror in the matter. Had Hitchcock provided direct penetration in the stabbing, there would be no horror once you've seen a stab.
In horror, the thrill lies in the suspense, the fear of the unknown. Showing a direct stab would have diffused any tension. It would have been far too cathartic, giving a release where the audience can let out a long breathe. By not showing a stab, you get no satisfaction and are still left holding your breathe, until the final cathartic conclusion, where you can finally sit back and say "wow." It's very similar to a roller coaster in the sense that if at any point you have a release of squeezing the bar in front of you, you've probably rode the ride before, and are not fully engaged. It's only when you pull back into the loading dock where you started when you can finally say "ahhh" and reflect on the ride.
Wow, that was a mouth full, and my points are horribly elaborated. Clearly this film is just an enigma. There's so much going on. It gets five stars.
Along with the initial death, Hitchcock follows up Marion's death scene with a shot of her clenching onto the curtain. This reinforces the concept of the veil of intimacy, as she clenches the last connection she has to it in her dying actions. Once she does finally accept death, she releases the curtain, falling to the ground, thereby providing closure to the character.
This concept holds up for Norman's character, as he is paranoid of people staring into the window of the house. The window in which his mother sits is a window into his inner mind, representing the divide between the mother and himself. It is very intimate and personal to him, and he tries very hard to preserve that privacy. In characters discovering what lies beyond his window, he is effectively destroyed.
One other thing I feel I must touch on is the editing of the shower sequence. It has come to my attention that other reviewers have been quick to criticize the realism of this sequence. I feel it's very important that I stress the insignificance of the realism of this scene. Had Hitchcock played a wide shot in which Marion is stabbed, there would be no tension or horror in the matter. Had Hitchcock provided direct penetration in the stabbing, there would be no horror once you've seen a stab.
In horror, the thrill lies in the suspense, the fear of the unknown. Showing a direct stab would have diffused any tension. It would have been far too cathartic, giving a release where the audience can let out a long breathe. By not showing a stab, you get no satisfaction and are still left holding your breathe, until the final cathartic conclusion, where you can finally sit back and say "wow." It's very similar to a roller coaster in the sense that if at any point you have a release of squeezing the bar in front of you, you've probably rode the ride before, and are not fully engaged. It's only when you pull back into the loading dock where you started when you can finally say "ahhh" and reflect on the ride.
Wow, that was a mouth full, and my points are horribly elaborated. Clearly this film is just an enigma. There's so much going on. It gets five stars.