Happy Halloween month horror fans! It’s Slick Dungeon here and I wanted to kick the month off by reviewing one of the all time classics of not just horror but all of cinema. We’re taking a deep dive into one of the earliest slasher films, helmed by the master of suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock. I am, of course, talking about the iconic and masterful film Psycho.

We’re going to dig pretty deep into this one, and this is the kind of movie that is ruined if you hear spoilers about it before you see it, so please, for your own sake, if you have not watched this film, give it a go before you read this review. There will be a heavy dose of spoilers so be forewarned!

A bit of Background

Psycho is based on a novel by the same name written by Robert Bloch. Alfred Hitchcock’s last film had been a full color, big budget, star studded thriller, North by Northwest. Like most of Hitchcock’s films that one is a classic and well worth watching. But in all of Hitchcock’s career there is one film most associated with him. It was shot in black and white and on a lower budget. It still had star power in the form of Janet Leigh but there was a lot less fanfare and attention brought to this film before its release. The film was shot by the same crew who filmed Hitchcock’s television series Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

At first, when the film was released, this was a critical failure because the subject matter was highly controversial. But box office does wonders for a film and audiences could not get enough of it. This caused a bit of critical reflection and eventually the movie went on to earn four Academy Award nominations, including one for Hitchcock as director and one for Leigh as supporting actress. Sadly the film did not win any of the awards but this film stands the test of time as it is still the film most associated with Hitchcock and is hands down his most popular film.

We’ll get into some of the reasons the film has had such lasting impact below but there were a few factors that set this film apart right from the beginning. One of them was a genius marketing move made by Hitchcock himself. Outside of theaters where the film was screening Hitchcock placed signs telling the audience that it was “Required that you see Psycho from the very beginning.” The cutout then has a big blank space where the theater could write in the time of the next show. And most genius of all were the next couple of paragraphs on it.

“The manager of this theater has been instructed, at the risk of his life, not to admit to the theatre any persons after the picture starts.

Any spurious attempts to enter by side doors, fire escapes, or ventilating shafts will be met by force.

The entire objective of this extraordinary policy, of course, is to help you enjoy Psycho more.“

Alfred Hitchcock

In addition to the sensational nature of the marketing materials, the controversial topics depicted in the film, the brilliance of the acting, directing, and screenplay there was one other major factor that made this film so successful and so iconic for so long. In case you haven’t guessed it, that was, of course, Hershey’s chocolate syrup. We’ll get into why that was below.

Just as Hitchcock would do, I must now warn you spoilers follow below as we get into the review of the actual film. If you have not seen the movie, “It is required that you see Psycho from the very beginning!” Go do that and then come back to read below if you haven’t yet.

It’s about Misdirection

If you look at the entire body of Hitchcock’s work you’ll notice a couple of themes featured prominently. First and foremost is the idea of an innocent person accused of crimes they didn’t commit. Coming in a close second is an impulsive crime committed by an otherwise good person on the spur of the moment. At the outset of Psycho we’re meant to believe what we are watching is the consequences of an impulsive act and what might lead from there. It ends up going where no one expected.

The very first moments of the film start with a soundtrack so striking as to be unforgettable. It builds an atmosphere of tension and anticipation and brings the audience into the film already on edge.

After the title sequence we are shown what amounts to a fairly bland and boring city view. The juxtaposition of the striking music followed by the mundane is meant to remind us that intense and horrific things can happen in the most common of places. We then see the words Phoenix, Arizona on the screen, giving us a location for where we assume the events of the film will unfold. We then see the date of Friday, December the Eleventh on the screen. Again Hitchcock is leading us into the ordinary here. There’s nothing special about this date. It’s not starting us on Christmas day, or New Year’s day or any other date that has any particular significance. It only stands out if you happen to have a birthday or wedding anniversary or something like that associated with it. For the vast majority of us, this would be a completely boring, standard day. If it seems like I am making a big deal out of how commonplace the date is, you would be correct. Part of Hitchcock’s genius is making the mundane into the memorable. Most of the events in his best films stand out because you can envision them happening to the biggest star, anyone in the audience, including yourself.

The camera pans away from some of the more interesting tall buildings in the shot to a smaller, square building which looks like any typical hotel you could find in any typical city in America. We then see the time of Two Forty-Three PM on the screen. And once again, this is a completely mundane time. It’s not the start or end of a work day. It’s not even lunchtime. It’s just a time that passes for all of us, virtually unnoticed most of the time.

The first sign of anything possibly out of the ordinary is when we zoom into the window of one of the rooms in the building. On the bed is Janet Leigh. She’s wearing a lacy bra and next to her is a shirtless man. While we don’t see anything explicit, the implication of sex is quite obvious. This could be normal. Perhaps the couple is on vacation or newly married. But Hitchcock is only interested in the normal insofar as it makes sense for the background of an extraordinary story.

The shirtless man comments that the woman never ate her lunch, further implying sex. The woman says she needs to get back to the office because it bothers her boss when she takes extended lunches. The man suggests the woman call her boss and take the rest of the afternoon off. The woman tells the man checkout time is 3 pm. And she states they are at the sort of place that is not interested in you when you come in but rather when you check out. This implies a pretty sleazy type of motel for the time. We also find out the man is going to catch a flight.

Soon, if it wasn’t obvious enough, we find out the couple is not married. The man is named Sam and this is a bit of a lurid love affair. He’s divorced and in debt but clearly in love with the woman. We learn her name is Marion. She wants to either cut off the relationship or have it be a more respectable one where Sam meets her family and they have dinner together.

She wants to get married but Sam doesn’t think he can afford to give Marion a good life. Marion leaves with the question a bit unsettled. It’s pretty clear this couple would be together and married if Sam just had enough money.

We next see Marion go into her office. Again this looks utterly mundane. Just a common office where people do everyday business. In fact, the only interesting thing about this building is the man you can see just outside the window. This is where Alfred Hitchcock makes his cameo for this film. When some directors do this, it’s really annoying but Hitchcock always managed it in an understated style that just works. All he does is stand there and only people who know who he is will even notice it.

Inside, Marion mentions she has a headache to her coworker. She then asks her coworker if there were any messages. Again, they’re boring messages. We do pick up one vital piece of information which will be important later. It’s just that Marion’s sister is going to be gone for the weekend. Another mundane fact, but something that will be important.

After a moment Marion’s boss walks in with a client. A wealthy oil tycoon is going to buy a property for his daughter’s wedding. And, this guy is filthy rich. To the point where he not only flirts with Marion but also flashes money in her face, saying he never carries more than he can afford to lose. The wad of bills amounts to $40,000. Marion’s boss points out a cash transaction of that size is irregular. The man doesn’t seem to care.

You’ll notice here that the most unusual thing in the movie so far is the cash itself. Everything else is just a boring day. And, it’s one of the few things that could change Marion’s life.

Marion’s boss tells the client they’ll put the money in the safe and deposit it on Monday. He then whispers to Marion he doesn’t actually want the money in the office over the weekend. He tells her to take it to the company’s safe deposit box. Marion puts the cash into an envelope and puts the envelope into her purse. She tells her boss she wants to go straight home after depositing the money because she has a headache. The client tells her she can go home because he and Marion’s boss are going drinking.

The boss agrees and Marion heads out after telling her boss she’s going to spend the weekend in bed. She tells her coworker much the same.

I’ve seen this film in theaters several times and the next scene is where the first gasp from the audience always happens. We see Marion once again, this time wearing a lacy black bra. More importantly, the envelope with the money is on the bed. She didn’t deposit it. What’s more is Marion is packing up her suitcase. She’s clearly planning to head to Sam with the stolen money.

And here is where the mundane begins to fall into the extraordinary. The money is a huge temptation for Marion and she’s committed an impulsive act. It’s still not too later for her to decide to turn back but it could mean losing Sam.

As the audience we’re now ready for a crime thriller chase film. We’re waiting so see how far Marion will spiral and if she’ll be caught by the authorities.

We see her drive out of town. As she does so, she thinks about the things people will say about her, including Sam’s reaction. While distracted in this way, she sees her boss and the client walk past her car at a stoplight. She nods to them and the boss looks at her with a bit of a puzzled expression.

The audience assumes at this point, this little incident is what will likely lead to Marion getting caught. She clearly lied to the boss and he knows it. Although, he doesn’t yet know about the stolen money.

She drives further and we get more of the iconic soundtrack ratcheting up the tension.

Then we see Marion’s car pulled off to the side of the road in yet another typically boring spot. It’s the kind of place you could drive past thousands of times and have no memory of it.

A police car pulls up and asks Marion what she is doing there. She explains she pulled off to the side of the road because she was tired and fell asleep for longer than she meant to. And in a major bit of foreshadowing, the officer says there are plenty of motels in the area and she should have gone to one of those.

Marion acts extremely suspicious but the officer does let her leave. This certainly feels like a narrow escape for Marion but we’ll find out later getting arrested would probably have been the best thing for her.

She drives further until she finds a used car lot. She buys a newspaper and sees nothing about herself in it. However, the cop from before is watching from across the street. Again, this feels like it will be a movie where Marion is playing a cat and mouse game with the law.

Marion seems to almost pressure the car salesman into selling her a car as fast as possible. To say she was acting weird would be an understatement. At this point, she could still walk away without any major consequences. She could decide not to buy the car and just return with the money with no one the wiser. But she’s panicked by the presence of the cop and hasn’t been thinking straight since she saw the money in the first place.

She does buy the car, paying $700 cash for it, and just makes it off the lot before the police officer can really question the salesman.

Marion continues driving and imagines what the cop and the salesman must be saying about her. She hears voices of her coworker and boss as well. Since this is called Psycho the voices here play a bit of a duel role. On the one hand these are reasonable things for anyone in this situation to imagine. But on the other hand, we start to wonder if the Psycho or person who is losing their mind here might, in fact, be Marion.

It gets to be later in the night and it starts to rain pretty hard. Rather than pulling off to the side of the road this time, Marion makes the fateful decision to pull over at the next motel she sees. The Bates Motel.

When we first see the motel, again it is mundane. It’s a tiny little place with a few rooms and an office for check in. The sign is nothing special and it’s no surprise there is a vacancy here.

Marion tries to check in but there is no one in the office. She goes outside and we see the first abnormal thing about the place. There is a little house just up the hill from the hotel. The style is foreboding and doesn’t match the rest of the hotel. There are lights on and we see the silhouette of a woman walk across the room.

Marion honks her horn to get someone’s attention. Someone does come out of the house. This is a young man named Norman Bates played by Anthony Perkins. He immediately apologizes for not hearing her in all the rain.

By the looks of him Norman Bates is as boring and mundane as can be. He’s friendly and genial and freely admits to how little business the hotel gets. The highway was moved so the hotel now sees almost no customers. Norman makes Marion sign the register which was common practice back then. She signs the book with the fake name of Marie Samuels. Did you notice how she put Sam’s name in there? It’s a small detail that comes up again later.

Bates hesitates for a moment and gives her the key to cabin one, the closest to the office. He shows her the room and we get the first hint of something strange going on. He can’t seem to even bring himself to say the word bathroom. It’s a bit of an odd tic but not overly concerning. Still, Marion, thinks it’s odd and she has no hesitation saying the word for Norman.

Norman then asks Marion if she’d join him for dinner. This could seem odd and creepy but given the circumstances it’s not that strange. Obviously Norman doesn’t see a lot of people and talking with someone is probably a welcome distraction. And while Marion is pretty, Norman has been acting so “aw shucks” innocent it doesn’t seem like he has any ill intent. This is further reinforced when Norman says he was about to eat anyway and Marion probably shouldn’t go driving in the pouring rain. To make it even more innocent the dinner he is offering is about the most boring and mundane meal possible. He’s offering her sandwiches and milk. It kind of makes you wonder what grown man would eat sandwiches and milk for dinner but again, nothing feels nefarious here. We’re in the world of the mundane.

Marion agrees to join him, probably more to get him out of the room than for any other reason. Once Norman is gone she looks for places to hide the money. She decides to put the money in the most mundane object anyone can think of. She wraps it up in the newspaper she bought at the car dealer. She’s wrapping up the extraordinary in the ordinary which will turn out to be the perfect metaphor for the whole film.

Mother Dearest

Just after she does this, Marion hears the voice of a woman, presumably Norman’s mother yelling. She doesn’t seem to approve of the idea of Norman inviting a woman to eat at their house. Norman argues back but ends up leaving the house with the sandwiches.

And here is where the movie starts to take an unexpected turn. This starts when Norman says his mother, “…isn’t quite herself today.” Marion tells Norman that since he fixed a supper they might as well eat it and gestures to the open door of her room. Norman takes a step towards there but then backs up.

The way Anthony Perkins plays this is perfect. Norman seems like he has to be innocent. He’s got an overbearing mother and while his first, natural impulse is to go into Marion’s room he doesn’t. Is this because of his mother or because he’s too sheltered or because he doesn’t want to do anything improper? In the end it doesn’t matter because he’s doing what would be the innocent thing to do. This is quite the contrast from Sam who we first see perfectly comfortable in a cheap motel with his shirt off.

Norman invites Marion to eat in the office instead. But then he decides eating there feels too officious and takes her back to the parlor.

Things start to become decidedly unordinary in the parlor. It’s full of dead, stuffed animals. Then, Norman just watches her eat instead of joining her. He tries awkwardly to make small talk. This is fine until he talks about how his hobby is taxidermy. Norman is happy to stuff birds but says he couldn’t bring himself to stuff dogs or cats or anything other than birds.

Marion mentions its a strange hobby and Norman says it’s uncommon too. Much like the money in the newspaper, the uncommon is wrapped up in the common here in the person of Norman Bates.

Marion says a man should have a hobby and Norman says its more than a hobby. A hobby is supposed to pass the time, not fill it. She asks him a little about his life and when she asks if Norman goes out with friends, his answer is decidedly odd. He says, “Well, a boy’s best friend is his mother.”

Norman changes the subject to Marion and seems to understand she’s running away from something. Then Norman says one of the creepiest things in the whole film. “I think that we’re all in our private traps. Clamped in them. And none of us can ever get out. We scratch and claw but only at the air, only at each other. And for all of it we never budge an inch.”

Marion replies that sometimes we deliberately step into those traps. Norman says he was born in his and doesn’t mind it anymore. Marion tells him he should mind it and Norman answers that he does but he says he doesn’t.

Marion kind of tries to get Norman to stand up to his mother. Norman’s next comment is decidedly disturbing. He says, “Sometimes when she talks to me like that, I’d like to go up there and curse her and leave her forever, or at least defy her but I know I can’t. She’s ill… She had to raise me all by herself after my father died. I was only five and it must have been quite a strain for her… Anyway, a few years ago, mother met this man. He talked her into building this motel. He could have talked her into anything. And when he died too it was just too great a shock for her. And the way he died… “

He goes on to say it was too great a loss for his mother and she had nothing left. Marion says, “Except you.” And Norman’s odd answers continue when he says, “A son is a poor substitute for a lover.”

Marion asks him why he doesn’t go away. Norman says he can’t because she’d be alone up there. He then says he doesn’t hate his mother but he hates what she’s become. He hates the illness.

Marion then asks if it wouldn’t be better if if Norman put her someplace. This is an obvious euphemism for what was known at the time as an insane asylum. We’d probably call it a mental health institution today. This sets Norman off.

He leans in and says, “You mean an institution? A madhouse? People always call a madhouse someplace don’t they? Put her in someplace.”

Marion apologizes and says she didn’t mean it to sound uncaring. Norman’s response continues to be very strange.

He says, “What do you know about caring? Have you ever seen the inside of one of those places? The laughing and the tears, and the cruel eyes studying you? My mother there? But she’s harmless. She’s as harmless as one of those stuffed birds.” The comparison to the birds will come back as utterly disturbing by the end of the film.

Marion again tries to apologize and says she meant well. At this point Norman starts to seem off the hinges.

He says, “People always mean well. They cluck their thick tongues and sharke their heads and suggest oh so very delicately… Of course, I’ve suggested it myself but I hate to even think about it. She needs me. It’s not as if she were a… a maniac… a raving thing. She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?”

I’ve watched this movie more times than I can count and every time Anthony Perkins delivers that line, I get chills down my spine. It’s so menacing yet so understated. It’s the longest conversation in the film so far and it’s gripping.

Hitchcock used to say if you film two people having a conversation at dinner it’s boring. But if you have the same two people having a conversation at dinner but show the audience a bomb strapped underneath the table it’s thrilling. At this point in Psycho it seems like the bomb is either Norman or his mother.

Marion admits she has gone mad and that even just one time can be enough. Marion tells Norman she is tired and going back to her room because she has a long drive back to Phoenix. She stepped into a private trap and wants to pull herself out of it. She also says she is going to leave at dawn. Marion also slips up here and says her last name is Crane, which is not what she put on the register.

Norman waits until she leaves and confirms on the register that it’s not the same name. We then go into full creepy mode as Norman moves aside a painting where he’s able to look into Marion’s room while she changes.

Marion does some quick math on a notepad to figure out how far in the hole she is. She then tears that up and flushes it down the toilet. It’s a little unclear why she does this. Maybe she thinks she can replace the money without anyone noticing or maybe it’s just because she doesn’t want to get caught if she does change her mind and go to Sam like she intended. Either way, it comes up again later int he film.

The Iconic Shower Scene

There are a few scenes in cinema history which are absolutely unforgettable. There’s the moment when Dorothy steps out of her destroyed house into a world of color, there is Rhett Butler saying, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” there is Orson Welles whispering, “Rosebud” and there is the shower scene from Psycho.

Janet Leigh, who was a big start at the time, and one of the main reasons people came to see Psycho in the first place gets in the shower. As she is showering, the silhouette of a person in a dress with gray hair tied back in a bun comes into view. This person pulls back the shower curtain and the camera shifts its focus back to Marion. We see her murdered with a knife.

There are a few extraordinary things about this scene. To this day, people swear they see the knife penetrate Janet Leigh’s body and that they see more of her body than censors at the time would have allowed. They are a little less convinced of it now, but at the time, people also swore the blood swirling down the drain had to be real.

The reason people think all these things is because of the quick cuts, shifting angles, and menacing music used in the scene. It comes down to the fact that Hitchcock was a master filmmaker. And part of that mastery was using the right tool for the right job. The reason the blood looked so real at the time was because Hitchcock had a can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. They watered it down a bit but this was part of the reason Hitchcock chose to shoot in black and white. He didn’t want to show tons of blood in color. And the chocolate syrup worked perfectly.

The other really striking thing about this scene is we’re only about 45 minutes in and they main star of the film was just killed. This was utterly unheard of at the time. Absolutely no one expected this, especially not after the whole build up of Marion running away with the money. What in the world was the rest of the movie going to be about?

Here’s where it Gets Interesting

At this point the whole film shifts perspective. We’re now following Norman more than anyone else, even though several characters are interested in Marion’s whereabouts. Norman cleans up the crime scene, mops up the blood, gathers all of Marion’s belongings and puts them, and Marion’s body, in the trunk of her car. And he very nearly misses the most important item in the room. The very last thing Norman gathers up is the newspaper with the money in it. He doesn’t even open it to find the money. It’s literally too mundane for him to care about. And it might be argued this is what gets Norman caught later in the film. After he’s done the cleanup, Norman drives the car to a swamp. He pushes it into the swamp and there is a moment where it almost doesn’t sink. Thankfully for Norman it eventually does go to the bottom and the car disappears from our sight.

About a week later, Marion’s sister has finally figured out that Marion is missing. She does the most obvious thing possible, she goes to confront the boyfriend, Sam. We know Sam is completely innocent of any crime here but Lila is sure Sam must know something. While she is confronting Sam, a private investigator named Arbogast shows up. He’s been hired to track down the money.

Arbogast goes up and down the coast looking for any sign of Marion when he eventually happens upon the Bates Motel. Norman starts out just as genial and friendly as he did with Marion. But Arbogast can see past the nice guy routine pretty quickly. And with just a little bit of poking around, Norman’s answers to questions start to become inconsistent. Furthermore, Arbogast notices on the hotel register that Marion signed in with the last name of Samuels. He is able to match the handwriting up and he’s pretty sure Marion was at least seen at the Bates Motel.

Arbogast gives Lila a call and updates her on the situation and lets her know he’ll be in touch soon. Arbogast then makes the fatal mistake of going back to the hotel. He learned that Norman’s mother lives in the house by the motel and Arbogast figures she might have seen something. So, without Norman’s permission, the private investigator goes into the house. The same figure we saw in shadow stabbing Marion, does the same thing to Arbogast. And we can assume Norman disposes of the body in the swamp once again.

Meanwhile, Sam and Lila are waiting for Arbogast’s call. Lila is understandably worried and while Sam asks her to be patient, he also knows things are not looking good here. Eventually Sam takes the initiative and goes to the Bates Motel where he knows Arbogast was last seen. In the window of the house, he sees the silhouette of an elderly woman. Sam plays it smart and he and Lila go see the local sheriff to tell him about the missing people. The sheriff is pretty dismissive but he does mention that Norman’s mother and stepfather died in a murder suicide involving strychnine. The sheriff also somewhat resaonably assumes Marion just left with the money.

Lila and Sam are still suspicious and not knowing what else to do, they go back to the Bates Motel. They feed Norman a line about being a married couple and get checked in. Sam and Lila then plan to distract Norman while Lila goes to talk with Norman’s mother. But, this doesn’t work out too well as Norman catches on and knocks Sam out cold.

Meanwhile, Lila has made it into the fruit cellar of the house where we know Norman threatened to put his mother earlier in the film. Lila finds what looks like an old woman in a rocking chair but when she turns the chair, it’s the mummified remains of Norman’s mother. This is a scene that still makes audiences jump in theaters to this day. Immediately after, Norman shows up, in women’s clothing, with the same knife we can assume he used to kill Marion. There’s a bit of a fight but Sam comes to and rescues Lila just in the knick of time.

Ten Boring Minutes of Cinema

The scene then cuts to the police station. Here, we find out from a psychiatrist what exactly is going on with Norman Bates. It turns out Norman’s mother was impossibly overbearing. And at a certain point Norman had it with her and decided to kill her and her lover. But because he felt so guilty about this, he started taking on the personality of his own dead mother.

In all honesty it’s kind of a long and boring scene and I’m not sure the explanation truly holds up. It’s probably the least talked about scene of the movie and while it does provide an explanation, it’s not nearly as engaging as the rest of the film. It probably needs to be there but it definitely brings us back to the mundane.

The very end, however, does give us a close up shot of Norman as he’s thinking in the voice of his mother and that part is pretty compelling. You definitely get the impression we have not heard the last of Norman Bates (or his mother).

Long Term Influence of Psycho

Taken as a whole, Psycho is a brilliant film. It twists audience expectations in a way that had not been seen previously and there are great films which come later that echo a lot of what is found here. The whole Scream series owes a great deal to Psycho and even more recent movies such as X make direct mentions of the film.

Whether or not this is actually the first slasher film is highly debatable but it’s the first one with such mass appeal and one of the few that truly stands the test of time. About the only way to ruin this movie is to have it spoiled for you, or have sequels made of it, or to do a remake. And… yeah all of those things have been done.

Still, this film stands out as one of the greats and I can’t imagine a 100 best films list that doesn’t have this movie on it. I don’t think you can really overstate how influential this movie is. It’s perhaps not perfect but it is damn near close to perfect. If you have never watched this movie then I hope you are not reading this right now because I would hate to be the one to spoil it for you. But if you have seen the film, you know just how good it is. There is an entire subgenre of horror that flat out would not exist if not for this film. For that reason alone, Psycho is one of my favorite movies. And, if you are ever in a place where you can watch it with a live audience, do yourself a favor and go. You’ll be able to spot anyone who has never seen it because their reactions will still happen right where the movie wants them to more than sixty years after the initial release. That’s good filmmaking and great for Halloween.

Suspiciously yours,

Slick Dungeon