PSYCHO TAKE TWO
F ew films are as culturally Motion Picture Production Code, the horror film – deemed the first slasher by some – faced backlash from the very beginning for its sexuality and violence (an unmarried couple in bed, a woman in the shower, a peeping Tom, multiple dead bodies, a crossdresser and – worst of all – a toilet flush). After Paramount Pictures refused Hitchcock’s usual budget, he decided to produce and finance the film himself, heading across Hollywood to Universal Studios, where the Bates Motel and mansion were built. ubiquitous as Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho has grown to be. Released in 1960 after the erosion of the Based on Robert Bloch’s 1959 novel of the same name, Psycho follows Marion Crane, a secretary who steals $40,000 from her employer to give to her lover, only to be murdered while making the journey to him. She stops at the Bates Motel during a storm, where she meets proprietor and taxidermist Norman Bates, who (spoiler alert) disguises himself as his mother to kill the women he desires. Hitchcock shot the horror on black & white film to save money, using 35mm cameras with 50mm lenses – a close match to human vision. Inviting audiences into Marion’s perspective, thereby increasing the suspense, this format was swapped out only a handful of times throughout production. During the shower scene, for instance, cinematographer John L Russell instead used a long lens; this – plus manipulating the shower head – ensured the camera
TAKE TWO
We revisit Alfred Hitchcock’s horror tour de force 65 years after its release, dissecting its ubiquity
WORDS KATIE KASPERSON IMAGES PARAMOUNT PICTURES
stayed dry despite being pointed directly at running water. Considered one of cinema’s most iconic, the shower scene required some meticulous storyboarding and editing. Shot over seven days, the final frame count rests at around 60, and the scene only lasts about 180 seconds. These three minutes are largely responsible for the film’s initial controversy, as star Janet Leigh was thought to be naked (she was wearing pasties and stockings) and is stabbed to death by a shadowy stranger. Colour wasn’t an issue, so Hitchcock used Hershey’s chocolate syrup in place of stage blood. Stabbing sound effects were created by piercing a melon with a knife. Speaking of sound, Hitchcock originally designed the shower scene as silent, but for Marion’s screams. Composer Bernard Herrmann, however, pitched Hitchcock
The Murder ; he was so impressed that he nearly doubled Herrmann’s salary. The screeching, staccato string music became an essential element of the film – and many others since – only amplifying its intensity. Dissected by countless film historians and (now) lauded by critics, Psycho sits among Hitchcock’s most highly regarded projects. Viewed as taboo in 1960, the film was censored in several countries, although it was eventually accepted and embraced as a cultural touchstone. Referenced in everything from Billy Joel’s We Didn’t Start the Fire to Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and inspiring its own TV spinoff, Psycho ’s enduring legacy is a testament to Hitchcock’s unwillingness to abandon his visions – a steadfastness that more filmmakers would do well to emulate.
A LASTING LEGACY Psycho gave the world iconic imagery like the shower sequence (left) and the Bates Motel (above)
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