 What do Tony Soprano, Christina Crawford,
and George W. Bush all have in common? You guessed it --
domineering mothers. The mother figure has provided our
stories with many fine moments, starting with that Oedipus
guy who bedded his mother, only to stand in front of Athens
reports delcaring “I
did not have sexual relations with that woman!”,
or something like that. Such a vein of intrigue wouldn’t
have escaped from the master of mystery himself, Alfred
Hitchcock, and his take on the subject appeared in 1960
in the groundbreaking suspense film Psycho.
Psycho starts with the story of Marion
Crane (Janet Leigh), a real estate secretary and secret
paramour of Sam Loomis (John Gavin). Sam is short of dough,
and in order for them to be together permanently, Marion
needs to score some cash. In the very next scene, Marion
finds herself in possession of $40,000 clams, and is asked
to deposit the money in a bank. She, however, embezzles
the money and flees to California to deliver it to her
lover, oozing guilt the entire way.
Engulfed in a rainstorm, Marion finds her temporary refuge,
a seedy, off the road motel, and the irrepressibly creepy
Norman Bates, expertly played by Anthony Perkins. She
rents a room, he offers her dinner, and they discuss their
trapped lives while surrounded by taxidermic birds (you
gotta love Hitch’s sense of humor).
And then, Marion decides to take a shower and the true
intent of the movie is revealed. Much has been said and
written about one of the most famous scenes in cinematic
history. All I will say is that years after first seeing
this scene, I still think about it while taking a shower.
It’s that jolting.
Missing Marion, her sister Lila (Vera Miles) and Sam
conspire with a detective (Martin Balsam) to discover the
whereabouts of the beloved girl. The rest of the movie
plays out as a whodunit, but frankly, I couldn't care less
about these people. All I want to do is to return to the
Bates motel. Bring me back to Norman. Bring me back to
Mother. Hitchcock does, and it gives the horror genre a
new mark.
 Yes, the acting is superb. Janet Leigh and her gang pull
off great performances, but if you want to be honest, it
is Anthony Perkins that steals the show. His Norman is
an accomplished mix of pathos and terror. In the parlor
scene with Marion, Perkins portrays both Norman’s
sense of helplessness and his menace; he is both a young,
confused man and a brewing evil. Norman stutters, changes
the sheets weekly on the bed, and has his mother as his
best friend. What could be more scary than that?
In fact, it’s Hitchcock's pure cinematic genius
that truly makes this film terrifying. While today’s
slasher movies show it all, Hitchcock decided that the
scarier thing to do was to not show the violence, but instead,
have us create it in our minds. So  while dear Marion showers,
you actually never see the knife plunging into her body,
but you swear you do. That play to the imagination means
that you leave the film with those visions intact, to play
out, when you are in the shower, alone. Even years later.
Now that’s psycho!
In fact, I put Psycho up to the true
test. Last night, I popped Psycho into my DVD player around
11 PM. I was all alone in my townhouse, with only a bowl
of popcorn and a remote to keep me company. I wanted to
see if Psycho, nearly fifty years later, would be able
to scare the hell out of me.
Let’s just say that I didn’t take a shower
that night. In fact, I believe I left some lights on in
the house. Actually, I think I popped in Mommie
Dearest... or the Sopranos... just
to feel safe enough to fall asleep.
And then, my phone rang. It was my mother, checking up
on me. I screamed. Thanks, Hitch.
 Presentation
My fear of watching older black and white movies is that
they tend to be grainy or lose some of their details when
put on DVD. Have no fear! This presentation is crisp and
clear. The new edition makes for an illustrious transfer,
capturing every dark place, shadow, and luminous glare.
You can easily see the individual water rivulets in the
shower, the slashing knife, the swirling blood down the
drain. The sound is impeccable. Listen to the stabbing
(Hitchcock preferred casaba for that noise), the scream,
the shrill violins. Excuse me while I shudder.
Extras
Okay, here is where you hit pay dirt. There aren’t
too many extras on the DVD for Psycho.
But what is there is magical. The making of documentary
is a full 90 minutes! That’s an hour and a half of
recounting the making of this classic movie, by star Janet
Leigh and writer Joseph Stefano . This is a treasure trove
of  movie buff’s trivia. For example, did you know
that Psycho was the first film that featured a bathroom
with a toilet, and horror upon horrors, it was flushed? Or
that Hitchcock went to such great lengths to preserve the “surprise” of
his movie that no patron was allowed to enter the movie
after it started. Or that Janet Leigh could never shower
again after watching the movie. Or that the orchestra is
all strings to produce that thrilling shrill music that
heightens the scariness. This documentary is fantastic.
Also included is a “trailer” they refer to
in the documentary. It’s a whimsical Hitchcock on
the Psycho set, teasing the audience into
wanting to see the movie.
The End Result
Yeah, this movie holds up almost fifty years later. Hitchcock
knew what he was doing when he made this movie. Things
like fear, murder, and psychosis have no sell by date,
and Psycho is a prime example of that.
Guess I better take my long needed shower now.... but just
in case, I’m bringing a knife with me.
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