Psychose

...from the first time I saw it at age 14 until today whenever I run across it.

This is the rare example of a much-ballyhooed film that is truly deserving of all the hype surrounding it. It would have been nice to have experienced the film without any knowledge of the plot twists. Unfortunately, for most viewers, the big surprises are not possible since so many of the scenes are part of our popular culture.There were, however, so many unexpected surprises.

The opening scene with Janet Leigh and John Gavin in the hotel room was amazing and (pardon the cliché) so real. Hitchcock and Janet Leigh did a brilliant job of pulling us into Marion Crane's story, that of a woman in love with a divorced man who might as well be married considering his heavy financial obligations that leave him unable to marry in a practical sense even though he can in a legal sense. He doesn't even have a proper home - just a room in the back of the store he owns.

Marion is then seemingly set up as the center of the movie as she thinks she has found a solution to her problems - a felonious one. Then the focus is skillfully shifted to the Norman Bates character as the "protagonist" victimized by his insane mother (or so it seemed) and then the focus is shifted once again to Marion's sister's search.

The movie was adapted from a novel so some of the original audience would have been familiar with the plot of the book. In the novel, Norman Bates was a middle-aged man. I think it was a brilliant stroke to have the Norman of the film as a man in his twenties, a boy who never grew up in a man's body. Anthony Perkins is so identified today with his role of Norman Bates that it was surprising to see how endearingly he played him in the early scenes. And he did one of the best stammers I've ever seen in a movie when he was being questioned by the private detective (Martin Balsam) who is also searching for Marion. I also wasn't expecting to see how protective the local sheriff and his wife were of Norman when they were being questioned about him and his mother. You could tell they didn't want somebody (Norman) whom they thought had been dealt a bad hand to have anymore publicity and scrutiny than he already had.

This film is mentioned in the documentary "Moguls and Movie Stars" as an example of how films were becoming more like TV as the 60s began - spartan art design and a script that was bold in the amount of sex and violence it had, even if the vast majority is implied. You have to be impressed by the versatility that is Hitchcock. Making movies in England? No problem. Making movies in the American studio system? No problem. Modernizing to deal with the evaporation of the production code? Again, no problem.

Weird factoid - for you TCM fans out there Robert Osborne is credited as "man" in Psycho, although I don't remember him ever mentioning it. The only person it could possibly be unless he never comes close to having his face on camera is the parson as the sheriff and his wife are exiting church. See what you think.

Most modern-day horror films make the killer to be an absolutely inhuman, grotesque, unimaginable monster in order to scare the audience out of its wits. Most of the time, however, these stereotypes create a generic murderer a raving, ranting, clearly demented psychopath. One of the few memorable cinematic killers that does not adhere to these restraints and cliches is, of course, Anthony Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter, whom manages to effectively cause the audience to recoil without such drek as the aforementioned devices.

Anthony Perkins' skillfully crafts his performance as Norman Bates, avoiding a ranting, raving, drooling, murder-happy, manic characterization; instead his performance as Norman is subtle, creepy, cool, and unsettling. He is brilliant; from his quiet conversations with Marion Crane amidst the stuffed birds, to his weasling wimpiness when confronted by Arbogast, his performance is so exact that it chills the viewer, all without the unnecessary disturbing images prevalent in more modern films (read The Cell, Henry: Portrait of A Serial Killer).

Perkin's fine performance, a tight script, and Bernstein's classic score make Psycho a film that is now and will always be remembered as one of the pinnacles of the horror genre.

What can you say about a film that's been talked about to death? Just this: If you've never seen it, you owe it to yourself to do so, not because it's a way of paying homage to the one true master of modern film, but because it's so fun to watch.

Janet Leigh plays a bored office drone who decides to steal some loot from her boss's obnoxious client and parlay it into a new life with her all-too-distant boyfriend. All is going more or less according to plan until she stops in at the wrong motel, where she befriends a friendly if somewhat nerdy desk clerk only to find it causes problems with that clerk's possessive mother, who as her boy explains, "is not herself today." I'll say she isn't, and so would Leigh's Marion Crane, who maybe should have put up that "Do-Not-Disturb" sign before taking a shower.

You can feel the decade literally shifting out of '50s and into '60s with this one. Even the opening shot, where the camera looks over a Western U.S. city in the middle of the afternoon and zooms in on what looks exactly like the Texas School Book Depository overlooking Dealey Plaza. Norman Rockwell touches abound, like the decor of the motel, but look at what's going on around it. People dress well, they still wear fedoras and jackets, but in their tense conversations and hooded gazes you can feel the culture just ticking away like a time bomb waiting to explode.

Most especially, there's Anthony Perkins, who plays motel clerk Norman Bates in a very oddly naturalistic way, complete with facial tics and half-swallowed words, not the polished image one expected to see then. Just compare him with John Gavin, who plays Marion's boyfriend in the standard-actor-of-the-day way. Perkins manages to be so weirdly magnetizing, even in small moments like the way he stumbles on the word "falsity" or notes how creepy he finds dampness to be.

He shines in bigger scenes, too, like his tense chat with Martin Balsam's boorish but diligent private detective character, Arbogast, who along with Perkins and Leigh delivers a landmark performance. The way both actors play out the awkwardness in their conversation makes you literally sweat. Then again, you're always uneasy around Norman. You definitely feel wary of him right away, but you find yourself liking him, too, even when he's busy covering up "Mother's" misdeeds. Not since Bela Legosi played Dracula did you get a horror movie with such a compelling central figure.

If you are sampling the many other comments here, be sure to look up Merwyn Grote's. He makes an interesting, compelling case for how director Alfred Hitchcock used his television series as a template for "Psycho." Certainly "Psycho" looks more like early 1960s television than any of the more sumptuous fare Hitchcock had been bringing to screen at the time. Not only is it in black-and-white, not color, but the sets; a ramshackle motel, a mothbally old house, a couple of cheap looking bedrooms, a bathroom in a used-car dealership, are deliberately low class.

It's thrilling to see Hitchcock move so effectively outside his normal element, and move things along with such clinical detachment and low-key technical finesse. Thrilling, too, to realize this is one of his most accomplished products; made by a man who was experienced enough to know how the game was played, and daring enough still to break the rules; indeed, start a whole new ballgame.

Is it the best Hitchcock movie? It's definitely one of his best, right up there with "The 39 Steps" and "Strangers On A Train" and "Sabotage" and "Shadow Of A Doubt." He only once again came close to making as good a film, with "The Birds," while Janet Leigh and Anthony Perkins never escaped the greatness they helped create here. Poor John Gavin had to quit the biz entirely, and became an ambassador.

Often imitated, parodied, referenced, and analyzed to death, "Psycho" still isn't played out nearly 45 years after it came out. You owe it to yourself to pay a visit to the Bates Motel; Norman has a room ready.

I saw this movie as a teenager when it was first released in the 1960's. The promotional hype for the film ensured you did not have a clue what it was about and people who had seen the movie were asked not to reveal the ending. You went to see it anticipating something scary and thats what you got. Even 30 years later I still remember sitting in a dark theatre with my heart pumping and everyone, and I mean everyone, screaming their lungs out.

The movie set a new and very high standard in horror movies which I don't believe has ever been equaled. The characters were great, the direction perfect and the music, which I thought was absolutely fantastic, made this a classic.

I still get scared when I see it on TV.

Getting into Hitchcock's Psycho, 57 years after its original release is like assisting to a masterclass of sorts. We can now identify what made this little lurid tale into a classic. Hitchcock himself, naturally, but now we know the first director's cut was a major disappointment and that Alma Reville - Hitch's wife - took over, re edited and the results have been praised, applauded and studied ever since. Janet Leigh's Marion Crane created a movie landmark with her shower scene. Bernard Herrmann and his strings created an extra character that we recognize as soon as it reappears under any disguise but, what shook me the most now in 2017 is Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates. His performance has evolved with the passing of time and its effect has remain as chilling, as moving, as funny and as real as it was in 1960. It's interesting to watch Gus Van Sant's 1998 version with Vince Vaugh as Norman Bates. If you look at the film, shot by shot with Berrnard Herrmann's strings - it's pretty fantastic. - Play it in black and white if you can. The problem and it is a monumental problem, we wait for Janet Leigh and Anthony Perkins, if the casting of Anne Heche was really bad - not a hint of Janet Leigh's humanity, the casting of Vince Vaughn was incomprehensible. Not just not credible for a moment but annoying, very annoying. Anthony Perkins brought something profoundly personal to Norman Bates and as a consequence we connected with his sickness. We felt for him. Okay, sorry, I didn't mean to go there but I felt compelled to because I saw again Psycho (1960) ad Psycho (1998) at 24 hours from each other and realized that the main flaw of the 1998 versions is the absence of Anthony Perkins.