First, a plug for the Tates Creek Branch of the Lexington Public
Library. They're
the ones who make our Classic Horror Film Club (or, the Scoobies, as
I affectionately refer to us) possible. They provide us with a place
to watch these great films, the means to watch them, snacks, drinks,
and the movies. A tip o' th' hat, please, to everyone there who
makes this possible. Check them out at
http://www.lexpublib.org/location/tates-creek-branch. When you get
to their site, scroll down the page to see info on our film group,
and a link for additional info.
And, now, on to the show. Last night's classic was Alfred
Hitchcock's Psycho (1960). It had been many a year since I saw it,
and I'd forgotten just how good it was.
Soon after it began, the room around me faded as the Master's hand
took over. I slipped inside the film, or it slipped inside me, not
really sure which. I could have been anywhere. My basement, on a
beach, who knows? Didn’t matter. I was entranced, under the spell
of the movie. All the elements came together beautifully, flowing
into one masterwork.
From the beginning, we’re given a feeling of something not quite
right, as the camera shot swoops down toward an open window in a
hotel, and we peer inside, voyeuristically, to see a man and woman
putting themselves together after a lunch-hour rendezvous.
Soon, we’re led on a trip with a woman on-the-run. We feel for
her. She’s not a bad person, just someone who’s made a mistake.
We want her to be okay, to straighten things out. This could be any
one of us in trouble. Hitchcock always puts that element of danger in
there, involving us intimately with the people in his films. There’s
always the feeling of “This could be me.”
I can’t tell you much about the plot, as that would spoil the
unveiling of everything. But, most anyone knows the story, even if
they’ve never seen Psycho. Our woman-in-trouble eventually ends up
at… the Bates Motel, run by Norman Bates, a name more famous even
than Hannibal Lecter, or Darth Vader. “The highway doesn’t stop
here anymore,” Norman tells guests, a hint of sadness/madness in
his voice. I need to spend some time watching other Anthony Perkins
films, because I want to see what else he’s capable of. His
performance was so finely tuned and nuanced as the twitchy but nice,
demonic but possessed Norman, that I see him as just that character.
A man whose “… best friend is his mother.”
And, here’s one of the (among many) interesting things about
this film. It is nearly impossible to fit into that box we call
‘genre’. Is it horror? Well, yes. There are classic horror
elements (can anyone say ‘shower scene’?). Is it drama? Yes, and
I don’t mean drama the way it’s thrown around today, as in
“There’s way too much drama in my life”, I mean drama as a
movie with a serious frame of mind. Is it a thriller? You betcha.
Mystery? Yup, as in what’s she gonna do next? What’s he gonna do
next? I think the truly great films are those that you just can’t
categorize all nice and easy.
To think that Hitch achieved this beautifully suspenseful film
with suggestion, implication, and innuendo. All the now-famous scenes
happen with no blatant sex or violence. Everything happens by means
of illusion. Mr. Hitchcock is a magician. While we’re looking over
here, he’s doing something else over there. Was that? Did I just
see someone stab her many times? Maybe, maybe not. In that opening
scene that looked so clandestine, so explicit, did that couple make
love? Well, they could have. Or not. This film is proof that the most
powerful films are those that get inside your head and manipulate
your thoughts and emotions.
Psycho also produces conflict within us, the viewers. Norman’s a
nice guy. Twitchy but nice. Lots of twitchy but nice folks running
around. He’s got a tough job, taking care of this old motel long
after most people would’ve given up and moved on. He also takes
care of dear old mom. And, yet… he’s capable of some really bad
things. So, here we are, sympathizing with this guy who’s doing bad
stuff. Yeah, that’s some serious film work there – acting, plot,
writing, and directing. And, here’s a poignant bit of trivia for
you. This was the last time Big Al would get a Best Director
nomination for the little golden guy. Never got one an award, until
he got the Irving
G. Thalberg Memorial Award in 1968 for producers.
Only
one part that didn’t quite fit, near the end. My band of Scoobies
all talked this over last night. We get a long dissertation on
Norman’s psychosis that’s heading toward boring and unnecessary.
Coulda been left out, or at least shorter. Most likely, that was put
in after some consideration so the masses would “get it”.
Sometimes, though, we’re capable of putting things together on our
own. And, sometimes, it isn’t necessary to fill in all the blanks.
A little mystery helps to make a good mystery. Just didn’t feel
like a Hitchcock moment. Other than that, Psycho is nothing less than
stellar. Watch it, get scared by it, enjoy it. And, don’t let
Norman get you.
'til next time... Adios.
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