SPOILER ALERT! The plot of the movie will be discussed. And,
sorry, this is a long post. There is just so much to say about this brilliant
film.
I want to start out by thanking my father. He took me to see
movies like this one, and Dr.
Strangelove, while other parents eye-fed their children a steady diet of
cartoons. Don’t get me wrong, I believe moms and dads should monitor what their
kids watch. I just think quality should be the primary standard for viewing. And,
when it comes to quality, it’s hard to beat Alfred Hitchcock’s works. My father
loved his movies and the TV show, Alfred
Hitchcock Presents. When I was nine years old in 1960, he wanted to treat
my mother to a movie after a visit to the unemployment office after she lost
her job. So, we went to downtown Philly to see this shocker.
It seems everyone recognizes Bernard Herrmann’s screaming violin musical score. Even the opening music has a frantic, unnerving tempo as we see
lines slicing through the credits, immediately foreshadowing the violence to
come. The names of those participating in the making of the movie are torn apart, suggesting the dissociative personality of the killer we will meet. We are told that the story is set in Phoenix (the name of a mythological bird which is reborn out of its own ashes, which resonates with what Norman Bates does by stuffing dead birds and and physically and psychologically resurrecting his mother's corpse). We are given the exact time of
day to the minute. It almost feels as if we are about to watch a documentary,
or at least a retelling of actual events. This verisimilitude makes the horror
to follow more startling. The camera creeps along and enters a bedroom, like a Peeping Tom. But we are looking through the lens of the camera so we are the voyeurs. Our first view of Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is in a
hotel room on a weekday in the afternoon as she squeezes in time with her
lover, Sam Loomis (John Gavin). He is leaving for the airport, indicating the
lack of permanency in their relationship. She is wearing a white bra and slip. Instead
of a white wedding gown, she wears undergarments of that color, emphasizing
that she is having sex without the benefit of marriage. And marriage and
respectability is what she tells Sam she wants. He says “respectability” is
work, which implies that casual sex is easy. So, given the time in which the
movie was made, Marion ’s
premarital intimacy is deviant behavior, despite her desire to make the relationship respectable. We as an audience judge her, but Hitchcock is setting us up to judge ourselves for our darker tendencies. Aren't we, attending a showing of a film entitled Psycho? We are drawn to the underbelly of existence.
Sam is divorced and must
pay alimony. He has to make good on his father’s debts. He has a low income job
at a hardware store. He says he will marry Marion (her name implies she is the “marry
in’” kind) when he is in a better financial situation to support them. So, Marion's marital investment in Sam is dwindling. After
returning to work from her lunchtime rendezvous, her co-worker, Caroline (Patricia Hitchcock, the director's daughter) offers to give Marion tranquilizers that her mother gave her to calm her about her wedding day. This an example of an untrustworthy mother who is meddlesome, which mirrors Norman Bates's situation later. There is a painting of a desert behind Marion ’s
desk. As was said, the setting is in Arizona .
Does the desert hint at Marion ’s
barren life? Or, does it point to her infertility, thus indicating that her
biological clock is ticking since she has no children? Can it be morality has a
difficult time growing within her? Maybe the painting points to all of these
things. There is a second painting that Marion later passes by which depicts the opposite climate, one with trees and a river. One would think it is hopeful. But, the shadow of Marion's head is cast right under the surface of the water. It is a foreshadowing of what is to happen to her.
When her boss, George Lowery (Vaughn Taylor) gives her
custody of $40,000 in cash to put in the bank, she fakes a headache, goes home,
and packs a bag, ready to go to Sam with the money that she thinks will bring
her happiness. It is interesting that the man, Tom Cassidy (Frank Albertson),
who brings the money says he will use his wealth to help his daughter get married and settle down. Marion is surrounded by other getting married and who have money, which leads to her committing her crime. Instead of depositing the money the camera shows it in an envelope sitting on her bed, which suggests it will help Marion's romantic quest. By the way, while she is packing, she is
now wearing a black bra and slip, indicating her criminal activity. While she is dressing there is the image of the showerhead in the background, another foreshadowing of what will take place. Her boss
sees her in her get-away car. She drives into a desert area that resembles the painting over her desk. It's as if she is entering a lifeless place to die. The suspense increases when a
policeman, looking scary behind sunglasses,
finds her asleep on the side of the road on her journey to Sam. He says it would be safer for her to check into a motel. He couldn't be more wrong. She acts
suspiciously, and he follows her to a used car dealership. She is in such a
hurry to leave, she almost forgets her luggage. She imagines what the policeman
and car salesman are saying about her curious behavior, as her paranoia increases.
Up to now, and
we’re not very far into the story, the focus is on Marion . We think the narrative will be about
her and the money she took. But, the opening is a red herring. She drives us
into the actual center of the story. There is a terrible rain storm at night, which foreshadows the later shower scene. Marion
can’t see the road clearly (and figuratively, she is unable to visualize what
is the right path to be on). And boy, does she make a wrong turn. She has
definitely “gone off the main road,” as Norman
says, in more ways than one. She stops at the Bates Motel. Norman Bates
(Anthony Perkins - how could he have not been nominated for an Oscar?), appears
as the boyish, innocent-looking proprietor of the establishment. Compared to her disappointing boyfriend and intimidating men so far, he seems harmless. He tells her
that there are twelve rooms and twelve vacancies. Even though he says they
moved the highway, the lack of visitors is a reddish flag. He says that it is a
“dirty” night outside, not a “bad night,” which adds a repressed sexual connotation to his
speech. She registers under a false name. It is at this point there is a subtle
hint that there’s something not right with Norman (even though his name suggests the
word “normal.” Of course, in the end he is neither woman “nor man,” but both in
the same body. And, “Bates and “baits” are homophones – which implies he is
trying to catch someone, with his innocent appearance). He turns to the keys
hanging on the wall. It appears he will pick a higher numbered key, but he
hesitates, and instead chooses number one, the room next to the office. He says
that way she can be in touch easily if she needs anything. When he shows her
the room, He says it's "stuffy," which also connects to Norman stuffing birds. He points to the bathroom, but is unable to say the word, showing his
prudishness. But it may really be his trying to submerge an unconscious knowledge that the place can be a murder chamber.
He invites her
to the family house, which looks like a Gothic castle, behind the motel. It
suggests the place where Frankenstein tried to bring the dead back to life,
which we learn Norman ,
in his own way, has been doing. Marion can hear Norman supposedly arguing
with his old mother in the house. Marion
hears her say, “Go tell her she’ll not be appeasing her ugly appetite with my
food … or my son!” The writing, especially the dialogue, in this film is so
meaningful (again, how could Joseph Stefano not be nominated for his adaptation?).
We see here the oedipal connection between Norman and his mother. “She” is
showing disgust about satisfying an “appetite” – translate that to mean sex. “She”
is also jealous of Marion .
So, they can’t eat at the house, and Norman
brings the sandwiches back to the motel. One of the film’s great lines is
uttered by Norman
when he says that his mother “isn’t quite herself today,” or any day, as we
learn. Marion offers her room to satisfy, literally,
and in Norman ’s
mind, symbolically, their appetites. His mother’s influence prevents him from
“entering” her space. They go to eat in the parlor (said the spider to the fly)
behind the office. Norman
says it would be too “officious” to eat in the outer room. Wrong word.
“Officious” means meddlesome. Is it a Freudian slip, indicating the influence
of his mother trying to insinuate herself into his “date” with Marion ?
The exchanges between Marion and Norman in the parlor are
very revealing. Marion
admits that she is “looking for a private island … where I can be alone and no
one can find me.” Norman
responds by saying, “No one really runs away from anything. It’s like a private
trap that holds us in like a prison … we’re all in our private traps, clamped
in, and none of us can get out. We scratch and claw, but only at the air, only
at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch.” Norman here has great insight into his
predicament, admitting that he can’t psychologically escape his prison (like a
caged bird?). Marion
then reflects on her situation when she says, “Sometimes we deliberately step
into those traps,” as she has done getting involved with Sam, and stealing the
money. When Marion notes how badly his mother
treats him, Norman
says, “It’s not like my mother is a maniac or a raving thing. She just goes a
little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?” To which,
Marion replies,
“Sometimes, just one time can be enough.” Stefano said in an interview that he
saw Marion ’s
act of stealing as a “mad act.” So, Norman
is really talking to the audience about how there is madness in all of us.
However, in his brief statement, Norman
shows the self-denial of the severity of his illness.
When Marion suggests
putting his mother away, we see some of Norman ’s
madness. He becomes angry at the thought of putting his mother in a ‘madhouse,”
and seems to know way too much about these places, suggesting he has looked
into them, or that his mother investigated the possibility of committing him at
one point. He says he couldn’t just leave his “mother,” either. If he did, in
her room, “it would be cold and damp up there like a grave.” This statement reveals what actually happened to his mother and again shows his desire to resurrect the dead. He says, “I don’t hate my mother.
I hate what she’s become. I hate her illness.” Which, of course, is his illness. He tries to reassure Marion,
and himself, that he is alright, by offering the arrested development statement
“a boy’s best friend is his mother.” He then admits that a son is a “poor
substitute for a lover.” In these sentences, we have Norman ’s oedipal crisis.
Hitchcock tends to implicate the audience in the
wrongdoings he depicts on the screen. He indicts the audience for what happens
in The Birds. In Rear Window, we join James Stewart in his voyeurism. Here, when Norman surprises us by being a pervert and looks through his peephole at the undressing Marion , the camera is the proxy for the voyeur in each of us. (The painting cover the aperture is "Susannah and the Elders" which appropriately deals with voyeurism and sexual blackmail). If you are attracted to a beautiful woman, you become frustrated when the lens points back to Norman , and we are
deprived of seeing the nakedness of Janet Leigh’s voluptuous from. Later when Marion ’s sister, Lila
(Vera Miles) investigates the house, she is startled because she thinks she
sees someone watching her. But, it is only her own image in a mirror. Or, does this image suggest that she should be
frightened, since we, the audience, are there, stalking her? Or, maybe the
mirror, always a symbol of our “other” self, is reflecting back to Lila that
she, like everyone, has the potential to be both victim and perpetrator of dark
deeds. Maybe just entering this “haunted” house takes us, as it did Marion , down the road
that should be less traveled.
The famous shower scene shows the killer’s face in the dark,
since we are not supposed to know the murderer’s identity at this point, even
though the suggestion is that it is the jealous mother. But, as we learn later,
it is Norman
dressed as her, and it is his own guilt over allowing himself to be aroused by
this woman that turns him toward the mother part of himself. Marion
is a threat that may seduce Norman
away from his attachment to his mom. Thus, the only way the matriarchal aspect
of his personality allows him to “penetrate” her naked body is with the phallic
substitute of a knife blade. A person’s sexuality is revealed in a shower, but
also the individual’s vulnerability, stripped of protection, the noise of the
cascading water masking any sound of approaching danger. The shower head
appears like a cold eye, perhaps another symbol of the voyeur, looking down on
its victim. She reaches for the shower curtain, a last-ditch attempt at shielding
her vulnerability. But, the quick snapping of the curtain pulling away from the
rings as she falls has the ring of a life cut short. Life flows out of Marion after the attack,
literally, in the form of blood, mixing with water, an image of fertility washed away, reminding us of the earlier dessert images. The life-sustaining liquids
go down the drain, which is replaced by Marion ’s eye, telling us that all we have
left is a lifeless corpse. The dead eye may be an indictment of us as voyeurs who participated in Norman's visual exploitation of her. It is also ironic that Marion dies soon after she admitted that she
was going to return home, make things right, and confess her wrongs. She was
going to reveal her crimes, which Norman
cannot do. It’s as if the shower represents her desire to “come clean.”
When Norman realizes
what “mother” has done, he goes to Marion ’s
room. He is shocked, and backs into the wall, knocking down a painting of a crane. A crane is a wadding bird, which means it is found in marshes, which is where Marion Crane winds up. The fallen picture, of course, symbolizes another dead feathered creature,
in this case a “Crane,” that has to be dealt with. We again are made to identify
with Norman , as
he cleans up the room. We think at this point that Norman is innocent, and all he is doing is
protecting his mentally ill mother. Whereas Marion was symbolically baptizing away her sins, Norman
is cleansing away the evidence of a crime, and psychologically covering up his deadly deed. He washes the blood off of his hands,
but, like Lady Macbeth, one can’t rinse away true guilt. He unknowingly
throws the money, wrapped in a newspaper, into Marion ’s replacement car. When the automobile
hesitates in its submersion into the swamp, we share Norman ’s anxiety. (The license plate shows "NFB," which stands for Norman's initials. The middle name is Francis. It's possible it can refer to St. Francis of Assisi who was the patron saint of birds). The pause in the car
sinking hints at the possibility of confronting the crime. But, we, too, want to distance
ourselves from the murder and share in Norman ’s
relief when the vehicle is covered by the muddy pond (clear water and blood have been
replaced by the obscuring dense, cloudy liquid of the bog). Haven’t we all done something
we felt was wrong, and tried to cover it up, even pretended it never happened,
burying it in our subconscious?
Lila joins with Sam to find out what happened to
her sister. They encounter Milton Arbogast (Martin Balsam), a private
investigator who was hired to find the missing Marion and the money by the firm where she
worked. Arbogast says they want to keep it quiet, hoping the money will be
returned, and there would be no pressing of charges. This is a convenient, one
could say contrived, plot device to keep the action focused on the principals, and not involve the police. Arbogast
stops at the Bates Motel in his quest for Marion .
He catches Norman in a lie about not admitting that
Marion stayed
at the motel. He asks him to look at her picture “before committing yourself.”
This statement is darkly funny, given the fact that Norman should, indeed, be committed to a
mental institution. The PI checks out the Bates’ house. We have an overhead
shot (again to hide the face of the killer) and we see “mother” come out of her
room, wielding a knife. “She” slices at Arbogast, and there is an almost
surreal bit of editing that conveys the feeling of the victim’s falling down
the steps, followed by the raised knife plunging into the PI. We see Norman soon after at the swamp again, which lets the
audience know that Arbogast has joined Marion in
Norman ’s
literal and figurative cover-up.
Lila and Sam investigate after the PI, who told them about Norman ’s mother living in the house and who, according to Norman , had talked to Marion , goes missing. They learn from the
local sheriff, (John McIntire) that Norman ’s
mother was dead. She was part of a murder-suicide ten years earlier when she
poisoned her lover and herself. Sam and Lila check into the motel. While Sam
interrogates Norman ,
she checks out the house. Norman ’s
mother’s room has been kept to look as if she lives there, even down to the
human indentation in the bed. It shows the extent to which Norman tried to keep his mother alive in his
head. Sam’s pressuring about Marion , the PI, and
the mother results in Norman
temporarily knocking Sam out. Norman goes to the
house, and Lila heads to the fruit cellar where Norman carried his mom (“Do you think I’m fruity?”
we heard her say to her son – we’d have to give a big “yes” to that one). It is
an appropriate place to put his mother. In Gothic stories, there are
subterranean passages, because physically, and psychologically, scary actions
are hidden from the literal and figurative light of revelation. Lila sees the
shape of “mother” sitting in a chair, clothed in a dress. When Lila spins her
around, the audience sees mother’s corpse, with empty eye sockets. Lila,
recoiling in horror, screams. We hear the slashing Herrmann music, and she hits
the hanging light bulb. The movement of the light on the dead woman’s face makes
it appear as if the eyes are blinking, alive, which they are to Norman . Bates appears
dressed in his mother’s clothes, wearing a wig, wielding a knife. Sam stops him
from duplicating the deed on Marion ’s
sister.
At the police station, the psychiatrist (Simon Oakland)
provides what many have said is an overlong, obvious analysis of Norman ’s mental illness.
He does inform us that it was Norman who killed his mother and her lover. The
horrible crime of matricide was too much for the son to bear, and that is why
he had to keep his mother alive to escape facing the guilt of his terrible
crime. We last see Norman ,
talking in his mother’s voice, looking motherly as he/she shrouds
himself/herself in a blanket. Her internal voice says it was Norman who is the
monster, not her. She won’t even harm the fly which has landed on her hand. Norman then stares
sinisterly into the camera, as his mother’s skeletal face is briefly
superimposed onto his. The last image is that of chains pulling Marion ’s car out of the
swamp, as if resurrecting the unspeakable acts thought buried forever.
In the end, Norman can represent our reflection as we look at him in the last scene, the way we would look at a mirror. When we really look ourselves what do we see?
Next week’s movie is Repulsion.
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