People always mean well! They cluck their thick tongues and shake 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… 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?

Psycho is so unfathomably genius that I find it difficult to know where to begin. Even this simple line of dialogue can be picked apart and analyzed to no end. In Psycho, Alfred Hitchcock tells a story like never before. He tells what is probably the most compelling narrative of all time, combining terror and trepidation, suspense and suspicion, interest and insanity. This movie is so jam-packed with iconic characters, scenes, set pieces, and lines of dialogue that just imbue with unparalleled cinematic brilliance. I find it so interesting how Alfred Hitchcock tells a story here, using three different perspectives. First, it is Marion Crane’s point of view as the film follows her absconsion. The film opens on a sunny day in Phoenix and we get a very cut and dry announcement of the date, time, and location. This scene is very real and you must take it at face value, because later much more dramatic things will happen and all semblance of realism and straight, sharp corners will be lost. In this scene, we are introduced to a relationship she is pursuing with a man named Sam who she loves very much, but is being kept apart from due to financial issues involving Sam’s alimony. So when she has the opportunity to fix this, she does. $40,000 is taken in the first act, and I found Marion’s escape to be riveting (although compared to the other two acts, it’s like paint drying… that’s how good this movie gets). A great scene was the excellently written interaction between the owner of the money (a slimeball is the only accurate way to describe him) and Marion. So for a variety of reasons, she embezzles what would be, in 2021, over $350,000. Calling in sick, she is actually driving out of the city when we get our first hint of suspense. She sees her boss who notices her and almost comes to talk to her, when she speeds off. We get more suspense when she gets pulled over by a cop and switches out her car at a dealership as fast as she can. The dialogue here is all excellent, the suspense authentic, the acting fantastic, and what’s amazing is that none of this will matter soon. Because Marion will be dead.

Before we talk about said death, I’d like to take a moment to talk about how light is executed in Psycho. The themes in Psycho are in general fantastic, and it would take an entire review to cover them all. But my favorite theme was the motif of darkness. One example of this is Marion’s shifting clothes and belongings. Before she takes the money, Marion’s bra, purse, and a few other things are white. But when she steals the $40,000 and runs away, they all shift to black, symbolizing how her once angelic personality is turning to a more guilty, flawed one. Another example is the opening sequence I talked about. The introduction to the Phoenix landscape (a gorgeous shot, by the way) is entirely bright using white tones, but we zoom in on a hotel room devoid of much light, using a darker aesthetic. This is a metaphor for how while most of the world is happy and bright, Marion’s life isn’t. And this continues for her. The driving scene is one of the most metaphorical in the whole movie, combining many visual motifs. The rain makes the view incredibly murky, blurring reality as we shift into a far more subjective portion of the film. It does this while the day turns to night, symbolizing how Marion doesn’t recognize the wrongness of her actions. And like I said, the darkness keeps following her. It occurs here, it happens when a police officer pulls her over and his sunglasses are very dark while the rest of the world is quite bright, it appears at the Bates motel with the metaphor of the continually off “open” sign. And the “light vs dark” color scheme with clothing occurs with Norman, too, this time about how the world sees him. Talking to Marion, and later Sam and Lila, his clothes are closer to a white color, symbolizing how they don’t suspect him of anything. But later with Arbogast, and with Sam and Lila once they begin to suspect him, his clothes get much darker. And the blood in the shower scene is black, too, instead of red (partly since it’s in black-and-white, but think beyond that). Now consider the metaphorical ramifications of that! Once you’re done, we can keep talking about this masterful scene.

The shower scene in Psycho is by far the most iconic scene Hitchcock has ever done. For good reason. There’s absolutely no way for words to do it justice. You must, MUST see the film… if only for this sequence. People often compare this and the crop duster scene in North by Northwest as the two best scenes made by Hitchcock. And to that, I laugh, because it doesn’t even come close. And that’s coming from someone who gave North by Northwest five stars. The editing and the cinematography here are some of the best I’ve ever seen, but the true standout is the score. It quite literally makes you feel anything and everything. This is my favorite score of all time, surpassing Arrival, because it evokes emotions like wind blows leaves: effortlessly, efficiently, and beautifully. It is thanks to the score that the shower scene comes as close to purified terror as anything can possibly get. But in order to fully appreciate the scene, you must first backtrack and explore what is easily the most interesting character in all of cinema. Norman Bates. Janet Leigh is excellent and every supporting performance here is without fault, but Anthony Perkins gives (and yes, I’ve thought this through) my favorite performance of all time. Just writing that is mind-boggling for me, but I really believe that it’s true. His performance can go from quiet and quaint to angry and psychotic to calm and collected like a car goes from 0 to 60. And that’s not even mentioning the character of Bates himself. Norman Bates is as good of a character as it gets. He’s truly one of the most complex people I’ve ever met, off the screen or on it. While the shower scene is without a doubt more cinematic, the conversation between Marion and Norman is possibly the most entertaining scene Hitchcock has ever done. You know I love good dialogue, and dialogue that moves forward absolutely everything-- story, character, tension-- I might as well go ‘mwah’ like a chef. Just listen to this and tell me it isn't phenomenally written development. It absolutely chills you to the bone. And have I mentioned how genius it is that Marion’s last name is Crane? Plus, it’s even more tragic that this conversation changed Marion’s mind about running away. She plans to go back to Phoenix, and before the killer shows up, her shower could be viewed as a morally cleansing one, using an entirely white color palate as opposed to the darker color palate I talked about before.

After Marion’s demise, Hitchcock shifts over for about twenty minutes to Norman’s point of view. He finds Marion’s dead body and seems to feel a mix of shock and guilt. Guilt for his mother. He cleans up the mess his mother has made. Hitchcock takes his time showing us this process, the scene must take around ten minutes and he doesn’t hesitate to show us every second of it. It’s much more subtle than the shower scene, but this too is one of the most cinematic parts of the film, in my opinion. He eventually pushes Marion’s car (with her and her belongings in it, including the $40,000) into the pond. For a moment, the car stays afloat. Norman looks nervous, not wanting anyone to find out about this incident. And then, the car sinks and Norman can’t help it. He smiles.

We then switch to our third perspective of the film. Sam and Marion’s sister, Lila notice Marion’s absence and hire a private investigator, Arbogast, to figure out the problem. (Arbogast is played by the same man who played the foreman in 12 Angry Men, something I took pleasure in as 12 Angry Men is probably the only film I prefer to this one). He quickly tracks down Norman Bates and after having a conversation with him, he only grows more suspicious (said conversation is yet another example of fantastic dialogue and even better acting from Anthony Perkins). I love the quote, “I guess I just have one of those faces you can’t help believing.” But soon after, Arbogast is killed by the same mysterious figure who murdered the woman he is-- was-- investigating. Sam and Marion do some investigating themselves, and soon decide that they should talk to someone about this second disappearance. The deputy sheriff they visit informs them of a truth that caught me, them, and I’m sure the rest of you (unless you’re one of those geniuses who solves every movie mystery there is and has no fun ever) off-guard. Norman Bates’s mother has been dead for nearly ten years.

There is perhaps no relationship in all of cinema that is more interesting to me than Norman Bates and his mother. The conversations between them are so psychologically disturbed, and yet so enrapturing. The voice-over work on Norma Bates (still puzzling over that name, by the way… my working theory is that while Norma was still alive she was so protective of her son she named him after her in every way but one letter) is excellent, and arguably the three ladies who voiced Bates’s mother did a finer job than several of the supporting actors. I can’t talk about these interactions enough so I’ll avoid failing to quench that never-ending cycle until I’m not writing a review I want people to actually read in the near future. I will say this, though: the way these conversations manage to be both interpersonal and intrapersonal is absolutely profound.

So anyway, Norma Bates has been dead for nearly ten years, so what on Earth did Sam see in the window (oh yeah, he went to check in between Arbogast’s disappearance and the visit to the sheriff), and what have been these two (or is it three) conversations between Norman and his mother? The climax of Psycho does not match the excitement of the shower scene, nor does it try to. Rather, it’s approach to disturbance is much slower and subtler. Sam and Lila go to the motel, where Lila tries to talk to Norman’s mother while Sam distracts Norman at the front desk. It doesn’t work for long, and Norman knocks Sam out after growing suspicious and agitated. Lila sees Norman coming and hides behind the stairs (in a great, iconic shot only proving how amazing the cinematography is in this film), going into the cellar she finds there. She finds Mrs. Bates turned around in a chair, and calls to her. She doesn’t respond, like she didn’t to Sam when he tried a few days earlier. So Lila turns the chair around, and finds a mummified corpse. I’ll tell you, I am very easily jump scared, and this made me shoot out of my seat and turn on as many lights as I possibly could. But I do believe it’s quite scary even for someone who’s not me… in fact, Hitchcock put the skull he was planning on using in Janet Leigh’s dressing room without telling her, and put a recording device in the room in order to measure the scare factor of the skull. That’s a neat little tidbit, even though it’s more than a little mean of Hitchcock if we’re all being honest here. Genius, but mean. Anyway, once you get past the jump scare (something everyone else probably did a little faster than me), the twist starts to settle in. She’s really been dead this whole time, and Norman has been preserving her body. You don’t get a lot of time to process, though, because then Norman bursts in wearing his mother’s clothes and holding a cleaver, and tries to murder Lila like he did Marion and Arbogast. Sam subdues him and we cut, shocked, to the police station.

I’ve recently been made aware that the “psychiatrist explains” scene is people’s least favorite in the film. And I can understand that. Actually, I probably agree with that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love the scene. I totally agree with my friend Zack, about how it lulls you into a false sense of security only for the final scene to scare you again. Plus, the exposition could not have been more natural. The psychiatrist is a great actor and the writing has a perfect amount of dramatic flair to it. The best part, of course, is what we learn during the scene. It’s only then do we realize just how emotionally disturbed Norman has become. Killing his mother and her lover, and developing a split personality of his ‘Mother.’ ‘Mother’ killed Marion, and ‘Mother’ talked to Norman and kept him company. Only, now ‘Mother’ has taken over completely. It’s very disturbing to hear, but the most disturbing thing is the last scene.

Norman is sitting in a jail cell, and the voice over of his now-dominant personality, ‘Mother,’ could not be creepier. “I’m not even gonna swat that fly,” he-- she-- proclaims. She wants them to see how harmless she is. She insists that Norman did it, not her. It’s insanely creepy. And as the film fades to the car being towed from the swamp, and the words “The End” being shown, the movie for a split second interlaps Norma’s mummified corpse with his face. It’s without a doubt the scariest image I’ve ever seen. And in that moment, you realize something. You realize that Norman Bates is a psycho.

--HELPFUL LINKS--
First, I loved this video essay about how Hitchcock manipulates his audience via changing perspectives in Psycho.

Another video essay I adored was this video essay about called “Understanding Psycho: The Uncanny.”

I know linking these is probably futile, but lastly I’d like to recommend this analysis of Psycho that I borrowed a lot from and somehow was scared more by than the film itself (probably because I watched in the evening rather than the bright day I made sure to watch Psycho in)-- Psycho: Renegade Cut.

I also put Psycho on a variety of lists, including my Hitchcock ranking, every ‘My Favorites of…’ list (viewable in my list directory), and my favorites list. This is both my second favorite film of all time and my 400th rating, two massive milestones. I hope you enjoyed this review, comment your thoughts down below… Juror out.