Psycho is a brilliant masterpiece, unharmed by its age, the spoofs, and the gorier flash of modern horror movies. We all know the infamous shower scene, with its shrill, staccato strings, and yet this movie is as shocking now as when it first came out. Hitchcock knows that suspense is not about showing the grotesque, but telegraphing out the events leading up to said violence. That is how this picture achieves its longevity: it does not show the newest, grisliest, most realistic deaths ever filmed up until that point in time, but rather it reveals the timelessness of evil as a wolf hiding in sheep's clothing. It shows how simply such evil can creep up on any one of us, a well-intentioned wrongdoing that escalates and escalates until it completely consumes us. And all from a desire to do good.The acting by all parties is superb, but Anthony Perkins is simply unparalleled. His nervous habits, his innocent persona, his sometimes subtle, sometimes shockingly violent changes in demeanor--all interwoven in an unforgettable and painfully believable performance. He is able to garner your sympathy at once and you never want to doubt him for a second. The other actors stood their ground quite well. The most memorable part of Janet Leigh's acting was her piercing, powerful eyes as she drives away with the stolen money, staring down the camera and defying us to say she made the wrong decision. But she only has herself to convince, and she cannot do it.
There is so much in this movie for filmmakers to love. Hitchcock, the consummate showman, peppers it with needlessly difficult shots as if to prove his master status. A low shot showing Arbogast ascending a staircase, with the ceiling visible and even focused on, then the camera lifts up weightlessly to that same ceiling we saw, and sits there, perching down as if a bird watching the ensuing events. From that same spot where we know no rig resides. Other shots are beautiful in their own right, yet more subtle in their genius. The shifts in view when a character stands up or sits down, the close-ups, the resistance to editing. Bernard Herrmann's score is a perfect companion, and stays in the mind of any who have (or even haven't) seen this film. And yet none of these aspects are the best part of the movie.
In fact, Hitchcock's brilliance lies in the overall structure of the film. He sets it up as a typical mystery thriller about Marion Crane stealing $40,000 and running from the cops. We relate to her because she does it for love. As she runs, the paranoia infiltrates her entire being. Her actions become suspicious and the net tightens ever closer. The anxiety is palpable, even putting Polanski to shame, until she gets to the Bates Motel and, after a short discussion with Norman, decides to return the money. Feeling cleansed of her mistake, she gets in the shower and then ... is killed. Hitchcock knows that none of her feelings and changes in character make a difference in the end, because she is not the main character, but he doesn't want the audience to know that. And so he directs it as such. A third of the way into the film, Hitchcock switches main characters on us. Where he succeeds is in getting us to immediately sympathize with Bates. When he tries to sink her car in the swamp and hide the evidence, our heart skips a beat because the car stops sinking. Will it stay visible? Eventually it sinks, but aren't we twisted to want this man to get away with murder? The murder of a character we grew to love and respect, no less.
The movies does have its flaws. Some edit-heavy scenes, some dated special effects, some meandering dialogue. Much has been said about the ending with the psychiatrist. Many critics despise it, considering it to almost ruin this perfect film with its banality and overtness. But I do not have such qualms with it. I think it wraps up the story nicely and it humanizes Norman Bates by explaining in scientific terms without judgmental bias what happened to his mind. Hitchcock has always loved the psychology and motivations behind his characters, and suggesting that this part should be removed would be dismissive of Hitchcock's own interests. I agree that it is a bit blunt, but not without merit and not so bad as to warrant such ferocious antagonism. It grounds the film in reality, distinguishes Bates from pure evil, and gives our hearts a chance to beat more slowly.
For the past couple of years, both Psycho and Vertigo have shared for me the title of Best Hitchcock Film. Vertigo started with the title, but recently, Psycho had been edging ahead. But now I feel a strong desire to watch Vertigo again and give it another shot because it opens itself up much more readily to significant analysis. Either way, these two films are without a doubt his best, and by far my favorite of them all.
IMDb link: http://imdb.com/title/tt0054215/