"Psycho" Revisited

Alone, and semi-bored, I found myself flipping channels Sunday afternoon on the old, semi-obsolete Philips television set I brought with me here to Ohio. I'm not much of a channel flipper, as the interminable exercise normally gives little benefit; today, however, was an exception.

I found the Alfred Hitchcock masterpiece "Psycho" playing on Turner Classic Movies, and while this is certainly not the first time I've seen the film--indeed, it is forever enshrined in my top 20 films--watching it again, in my current disposition and with all the knowledge I possess on Hitchcock and the film, was an immensely satisfying experience.

But first: the film.

What immediately struck me about "Psycho" this time around was Anthony Perkins. Perkins was a hot, rising actor in the late 50s, and he was even hailed by many as the next James Dean, due in no small part to the innocent sexuality he effortlessly exuded in his roles that drove the ladies oh so crazy. It was this characteristic, however, that would make him so appealing to Alfred Hitchcock, who wanted to cast an actor of Perkins' exact stature for the role of Norman Bates.

Though Perkins did accept the role, he was haunted by the decision, fearing that it would forever tarnish his career and lead to the ever-dreaded typecast. And it did, as Perkins was never able again to shake the image of the tormented, psychotic Bates.

But what performance to lose your career over! Perkins is flat-out riveting in this movie, creating an uneasy yet driving mood that pulses each scene he's in with the same horrified, caged fear of the stuffed birds that adorn Bates' office. While Hitchcock famously hated method actors, Perkins has an undeniable method to the madness of this performance, as his hollow eyes gaze longingly for passion, his face ticks with nervousness and shyness, and all the subtleties of his face--laughs, smiles, chuckles--just add to the coiled tension.

It's a brilliant performance, and while Hitchcock's direction has claimed legendary status, Perkins work deserves equal praise.

Not that the praise for the direction is misguided, mind you, as this film alone could establish Hitchcock as one of the greatest directors in the history of celluloid. Upon receiving the script for his next project, Hitchcock would immediately draw storyboards for each and every scene, and "Psycho" reflects this obsession with detail. Every scene features perfect framing, as Hitchcock is capable of placing the camera in choreographed places that progress the story AND enforce the subtle themes he is known for.

Consider, for example, the scene between Perkins and Janet Leigh, where she eats a sandwich Perkins has prepared for her. Beyond the weird, alluring chemistry between the two leads, Hitchcock shoots the scene with such consistency, allowing the actors their space while still examining the stuffed birds that adorn Norman Bates' office.

Not the whole film is straight-forward, though, as Hitchcock still uses virtuoso technique in several scenes, such as the thrilling crane shot through the Bates' house, which stops above the second-floor staircase as Bates carries his mother down the steps, or the twisting shot that examines Bates' paranoid face as he is questioned by a private investigator about Marion Crane's disappearance, giving him the appearance of a bird; or, the brilliant usage of lighting throughout the film, how Bates' face is constantly shown in a half-light/half-dark dichotomy, or the BRILLIANT lighting in the final, shocking climax where we discover the truth about Bates, as the swinging light bulb in the fruit cellar swings to and fro while the camera focuses intently on Momma Bates.

With Hitchcock's film, we get beautiful settings, excellent performances, and tightly controlled plots, but what films like "Psycho" display is that there will always be little, precise subtleties that will keep us watching these films into the future, and I look forward to the times of this future where I can enjoy films in the same way I enjoyed watching "Psycho" yesterday.