Lock Them Bathroom Doors, Kids

Rating: 10/10 (8 February 2017)

Psycho, one of the best horror films of all time, has become irretrievably embedded in popular consciousness. Few are unaware of the iconic shower scene and the shrill string instrumentation that accompanies it, whether they have seen the film or not. The production values are, without exception, exemplary, even though the film was made on a comparatively small budget and largely with a television crew.
The expressive and natural performance of Anthony Perkins in the role of Norman Bates launched his career and dogged him for the rest of it on account of his subsequent typecasting. Janet Leigh as Marion Crane convincingly betrays an increasing sense of alarm at her immoral behaviour and her helplessness at preventing it. Bernard Hermann's score, which adds tension throughout the film, even to seemingly innocuous scenes, has been rightly singled out for praise, not least from the director himself. I doubt whether a better reproduction of the sound of stabbing someone with string instruments is possible. The music for the main credits sets the tone for the film, foreshadowing the drama, danger, and violence that punctuates it.
The cinematographer uses black and white film to its full advantage. The result is, in my opinion, as impressive as the film's score. The lack of colour robs the film of vitality and warmth, creating a sense of dread in the viewer. Shadows and darkness provide cover for illicit deeds or an elegant way of framing images. In a memorable scene, the long shadow of various birds of prey makes them appear alive and even more frightening, as if they were ready to attack the character or, by extension, the viewer who shares her perspective.
The shower scene deserves a special mention. The scene occurs in the middle of the film, at a point when viewers have become absorbed in the story, forgetting, if only slightly, that what they are watching isn't real. Shooting the scene from the perspective of the killer was a stroke of genius. A tranquil scene of a woman enjoying a warm shower greets the viewer. The woman even begins to hum jauntily. Immediately the viewer feels as if he shouldn't be spying on this woman, much less pulling back the shower curtain. Soon they see themselves stabbing her relentlessly and viciously. Hitchcock grants the viewer no respite as the murder is shown from a multitude of angles. The jarring montage of violent images frightens and disturbs. Indeed, one would be forgiven for looking around the room afterwards to see whether there are any murderers lurking in the shadows. The dissonant strings, at once, accentuate the helpless cries of the woman and the violent rage of the killer. The scene concludes with a close up of the lifeless eye of the woman. The eye may signify the viewer's vicarious participation in the murder through watching it, confronting him with his perverse enjoyment of the gruesome scene.
Psycho does have its flaws. The exposition at the end of the film is superfluous as the climactic scene provides the same information, obviating the awkward insertion of an ad hoc monologue. The scene in which a character falls down stairs, which, to be sure, would have thrilled contemporary audiences with its groundbreaking special effects, has not aged well. The clumsy and conspicuous use of special effects shatters the illusion, reminding the viewer that he is watching a film. The deputy sheriff's lack of interest in investigating the theft of $40 000 beggars belief.
The virtually unrivalled excellence of the bulk of the film, reaching its apogee during the shower scene, transcends any residual imperfections. Psycho, through its elevation of the horror genre and its inspiration of subsequent generations of filmmakers and film enthusiasts, is surely deserving of its place in the canon of American cinema.