Psycho review

Rating: 10/10 (22 October 2003)

Scream all you want, Psycho is the greatest horror flick of all time. Much of the praise is due to three ingenious elements directed by the great auteur Alfred Hitchcock: camerawork, editing, and sounds. Cleverly, our sympathy for first-half protagonist, Marian Crane (the beautiful Janet Leigh-mother of Jamie Lee Curtis), shifts towards a creepy commiseration for antagonist (?), Norman Bates. Both characters are indeed psychotic, though on different levels. We feel for Crane, knowing that her misdeed-scamming her boss out of $40,000-is wrong; and we're just as sure to be annoyed when an ominously curious state policeman tracks behind.
Indeed, several could relate to Marian Crane, having had the feeling of splitting from the real world and all its dilemmas before, or merely Arizona, in her case. Crane's destination is Los Angeles, assumingly comparative to the numerous venturing for more glory and escapism. On her way she decides to spend a night at an off-road dive; it's raining hard and who needs more with another pesky trooper? Rather than using the typical fat, old, balding loner from the Psycho novel, Hitchcock and screenwriter Joseph Stefano employ a relatively more normal, attractive personality to exemplify the Bates Motel manager. With that, Anthony Perkins sets off one of film's greatest performances. For much of the second half, mama's boy Bates becomes the character we are more concerned about.
The cinematography in Psycho is as creepy as the plot. Shot in black and white, not because Hitchcock had to, but because he wanted to, our two main characters are followed in medium shot thoroughly at every step. Every reaction is recorded to its highest definition, from Bates searing eyeball scheming on his guest's undergarment, to Crane's multiple changes of expression when the pursuing officer veers right. Psycho is a non-stop showcase of vigorous zooming and follow-framing. What makes this formalist approach to film-making so great is its unconventionality. Alfred Hitchcock was keen on every detail, providing a window for viewers to snatch every bit.
Hitchcock also provided psychological clues to the story in his score, perhaps one of the top three to five greatest ever composed (even Busta Rhymes wanted to `Gimme Some More'). The screeching violin play chillingly reflects the screeching sounds of birds, symbolism often found throughout Psycho. Even the sudden clash of windshield wipers during Crane's stormy drive to Los Angeles is a conceivable preview to what lay ahead.
Perhaps nothing is more impressive, however, than the editing. Oftentimes the first thing mentioned about Psycho is the notorious `shower scene.' Aside from changing the entire landscape of the film, from a quickly-paced protagonist goal to a slower-moving character study, the scene contains a barrage of amazing edits. In this horrific slashing scene, we miss nudity and contact-gore if you will-yet, to much of our delight. The pacing of this classic montage is more attractive, in essence, because of its unpredictability. And with Hitchcock, why expect nothing else?

5/5 stars