SilentDawn’s review published on Letterboxd:
SPOILERS IN THIS. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN PSYCHO YET, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? GET ON THAT FREAKING NOW!
Part Two of Rolling Fog, Creepy Passageways, Murderers Lurking In The Dark: My Own Halloween Challenge
It's time I tackled THE review, and It only took a halloween challenge to have me attempt it. Now, I've "reviewed" Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece before, but it was more of a gushing list of adjectives than anything else. Personally, I've always felt that a film THIS incredible shouldn't even be reviewed, but experienced over and over again. Yet, I've seen some wonderful takes on Hitchcock's film, and I figured I'd try it out. Just testing the waters here.
Psycho is one of the most influential films in the small history of my cinema addiction. When I was 10, I walked into a video store (remember those?) and asked for two films, John Carpenter's Halloween and Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. That very night, a late and chilly October evening, I was forever shaken and disturbed. Changed, definitely for the better. I distinctly remember going to bed without using the bathroom, mainly because I was still recovering from the iconic "shower scene." Throughout that night, which I believe was a Friday, I spent my time in bed thinking both about the scary imagery as well as contemplating the film-making on display. That night, I was given my film-addict badge, and I've been hooked ever since.
Okay, now to talk about the film. Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho is perfect. If there ever was a film that could be labeled as perfection, a piece of art without flaws, I would nominate Psycho without a shadow of a doubt. While some would refute that nomination, probably using the psychiatrist scene as a rebuttal, I could easily knock them down. While I'm kinda starting backwards, I have to address this issue. First off, how many people really knew much detail about Norman's condition? Do you think that every movie-going citizen (in the 1960s mind you) was an expert on multiple-personality disorder? If they didn't have that scene, how would the audience have been able to see Lila's reaction to the news about Marion? Plus, It's a scene that flows with piercing honesty and bluntness. After the pure horror and potent shock of that climax, It's a breather before going in for the final kill.
Alright, let's go back to the beginning. The film opens on a wide view of Phoenix, Arizona, with the camera fading and tracking into an illicit and smoldering hotel room that reeks of empty promises and desire. Here, the audience meets Marion (expertly played by Janet Leigh) and Sam Loomis (played understated by John Gavin). The opening scene is one of the many perfect moments in the film, constantly setting up characters, their arcs, and progressing the story in a wonderful pace, all while adding on new layers. I always love how for 1960, this was some sensual and sexy stuff. It's still sexy today, and that is thanks to the performances and Hitchcock's leering eye, but it isn't even comparable to anything on TV or in film today.
The opening act, complete with an awesome Hitchcock cameo, powerfully and subtly builds on the main story and the characters that traverse the landscape. Basically, Hitchcock is beginning this story in a way that will show and reveal common themes, but not give away anything to come. He shows us this world, one full of lies, corruption, deception, greed, and he fills his characters with these attributes. Yet he still brings empathy and likability to them, which is genius when in hindsight, most of the main characters are deplorable people.
Yet, It all changes with Marion's arrival at the Bates Motel. First off, I love how Hitchcock reveals the motel. There's no dramatic music, no quick cuts; just a house, a motel, and a woman hopped up on greed and stuck in a rain storm. The editing, while even more awe-inspiring and pristine in later sequences, is magnificent in the first views of the house. The shots of Mother in the window, the massive house dwarfing the repressed feelings of the characters, the quiet lighting on the side of the motel; it all adds up to a few seconds of silence before a primal scream that is about to be unleashed.
Then, Norman comes down. Ah Norman. In my eyes at least, he's one of the great characters in the history of film, and it's a fact that this point that it's also one of the finest performances of all time, performed sublimely by Anthony Perkins. The conversations between Marion and Norman, especially in Norman's motel parlor, are steamy and effortlessly engaging. Alfred Hitchcock gives us two character, both that we don't know much about, and he lets them dig at each other, revealing passions, disappointments, dreams, and inner rages. In spite of every scene being amazing, the parlor conversation might be my favorite in the whole film.
After that, we get the shower scene. Yeah, I shouldn't even have to describe it. Scary, terrifying, brutal, impeccably framed, gorgeous, bone-chilling; It's the most iconic sequence of all time. It's simply one of the best. Yet, in spite of the visceral reaction that happens during every re-watch, the scene is also one of the finest mind-fucks of all time. Basically, the first time I saw this, I thought "Now where is this film going?" So, the main character (so it seemed) is dead, we have this guy who has a killer for a mother, and now he's going to have to clean up the body?
And folks, that's only the end of the 2nd act. Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho then switches to a mesmerizing character study of THE psychopath, a man so terrifying and insane that he makes Hannibal lecter look like a routine burglar. This act, while just as tense and beautifully shot, is messier and creepier. It's an act that the audience doesn't necessarily want to follow, mostly because the film goes to uncomfortable lengths to make the audience root for Norman, regardless of how he actually is.
Personally, every horror film has to have a "kicker." If you don't get what I'm saying, hear me out. In Black Christmas, the end-twist is the "kicker", in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the finding of a certain someone in a freezer is the "kicker." Basically, every horror film needs to have a line or an action that drives home the current arc and state of both the story and characters. In Psycho, it's the finding, by the local Sherrif no less, that Norman's mother has been dead and gone for more than 20 years. I get shivers just thinking about it, because as soon as that line is uttered, the audience realized that they've been had, but they don't know what's been taken. It's some scary shit in a film that's about to get even more fucking scary.
When Lila and Sam Loomis reach the Bates Motel, It's the start of the greatest horror climax of all time. Only Halloween comes close, and that's mainly because they both bring the same amount of earth-shattering terror. As Lila searches the house for Marion, the film builds and builds to a fever-pitch of utter dread. While Lila is searching for Marion, the audience knows that if she finds something, It won't be Marion. The genius irony and play with narrative in regards to what the audience knows and what the characters know is something of an immaculate construction.
Yet, It's when Lila enters the fruit-cellar that the film goes from classic status to LEGENDARY, HISTORIC STATUS. Seriously, the fruit-cellar status is just indescribable in its beauty and its alarming horror. The editing in this sequence is the finest in the film. Yes, even more than the "shower scene." The constant cuts between Mother's corpse, the swaying light, and the physical fight between Norman and Lila is something to behold.
Then, after the psychiatrist scene (which I already discussed), the final blow is delivered. As the camera zooms into the expression of Norman, already long gone, the audience feels that terror building and building. However, as the wicked smile appears, and the trunk is revealed, It's almost as if Hitchcock wants us to laugh; not just at the absurd journey that these characters have been on, but the fact that this all started because of money. Don't get greedy, otherwise you'll be murdered with a knife while you're taking a shower in a shady motel which is run by a shy boy controlled by his mother. Whoa.
Well, after all that, I haven't even written about specifics.
Here we go.
Alfred Hitchcock's direction, is quite simply, flawless. Beautiful, calculating, bursting with creativity, and importantly simple; his achievement here culminates in the finest film that he ever directed. The performances, mentioned somewhat above, are all uniformly excellent. The cinematography by John L. Russell is stark and lush, bringing a feel that represents the overall themes hidden throughout. The editing by George Tomasini is formidable, and it might be the best editing achievement in film-history. The score by Bernard Herrmann is SPECTACULARLY ICONIC, elevating every single frame into an explosion of image and sound. Truly, his soundtrack is a masterpiece in and of itself. The costume design, the production design, the makeup, the writing; EVERYTHING is of a staggering and extraordinary level.
Just check in, you won't regret it.