The ALFRED HITCHCOCK Thread

[flickchick85]

Great reviews. Both of these are two of my favourites, especially Dial M For Murder, which is leagues above A Perfect Murder. Dial M was intelligent. A Perfect Murder was just dumb.

Here's The Thirty Nine Steps 1978 remake on YouTube. It has the full movie, so you can watch it when you want. They've labelled it incorrectly though, because the remake is The Thirty Nine Steps, not The 39 Steps like the original.

Thanks, I'll definitely be checking that one out once I'm done with this.

10.) Spellbound (1945)

Alfred Hitchcock, Salvador Dali, Ingrid Bergman. Those three names are really all you should need to know this is a must-see, but they’re hardly all it has going for it. Sigmund Freud died in 1939, and it was in the 1930’s that American psychologists started employing his ideas in their work. His death seems to have only made his work go even more mainstream, so one could say that by 1945, Freud-mania was in full swing. Spellbound was the first major motion picture to explore the concepts of psychoanalysis, though they do so in a very rudimentary and escapist manner. However, unlike Marnie, this doesn’t use those rudimentary concepts as an excuse for playing out Hitch’s most misogynistic fantasies on screen. On the contrary, this one uses them in a rather light-hearted fanciful psychoanalysis-based romance…or at least as light-hearted as romance centered around murder and mistaken identity can be. Apparently, producer David O. Selznick was the big Freud fan, and enlisted Hitchcock to feature his ideas in film. Hitch basically took the very base concepts and let his imagination run away with them, and you can tell he had fun doing so, running straight into the arms of surrealist painter Salvador Dali. Spellbound centers around interpreting dreams, and the key, extended dream sequence at the heart of this movie is built upon Dali designs. What beauties he created! That dream sequence, along with some of Hitchcock’s most eye-catching camera angles in general, makes this, in my view, his most visually stunning film outside of Vertigo.

The film starts off at Green Manors psychiatric hospital in Vermont, where Bergman’s Dr. Constance Petersen and the other residents await their new director, as their current one, Dr. Murchison (Leo Carroll), has been asked to retire after having an episode of nervous exhaustion. And of course, the replacement comes in the form of Dr. Anthony Edwardes, played by young, hot Gregory Peck, so what’s not to like? Except it becomes apparent quickly enough that this Dr. Edwardes is an imposter, an imposter who doesn’t even remember his own true identity, no less. Dr. Petersen’s the one who figures this out, but as she has already fallen for the fake Dr. Edwardes, when he goes on the run after the real Dr. Edwardes is found dead, she follows him, determined to get to the truth.

In my review of Under Capricorn, I mentioned how Hitchcock seemed to have more reverence for Ingrid Bergman than his other lead actresses, which shone through in the characters he had her playing. Dr. Constance Petersen is exemplary of that notion. Here’s a woman who’s a fully-fledged psychiatrist in 1945, who remains unflappable when her patients threaten violence toward her or when her male co-workers make a pass at her (in ways that would definitely get them sued for sexual harassment in 2019, btw). And when she starts to put the pieces together that her new crush may not be who he says he is, she keeps her cool. And when even HE is convinced that he’s a murderer, she basically tells him to shut the hell up and stop jumping to conclusions...in a kinder, more romantic way, of course. The only real not-so-feminist thing about her is how quickly she falls for “Dr. Edwardes,” a man she just met, but A.) It’s Gregory Peck so the audience ain’t exactly blaming her, and B.) there’s something a bit meta about it all because on their first “date” she goes on a diatribe about how the fairytale romances sold in movies and TV are so unrealistic that they create false expectations and can lead people into madness…and then she proceeds to fall into one of those very fairytale romances herself. It’s like the movie is telling you, “see, we know this is unrealistic, but just roll with it!” This is further fortified by the other characters constantly making jokes about how Constance is going mad herself, but she never takes them seriously, and she never loses her conviction. In fact, Constance serves as the audience’s pillar of truth, because really, ALL the evidence, including his own memories, points to the fake Dr. Edwardes being a murderer, and literally the only reason we don’t believe it is because Constance is telling us not to. The movie has sold the fact that this lady knows what she’s talking about, and even if people are telling her she’s “blinded by love,” we’re gonna listen to her, dammit. There’s a great bit where she’s staking out a hotel lobby in trying to find her runaway "Edwardes," and she gets the information she needs from the hotel security officer by taking advantage of his sexist assumptions about her. People are underestimating this character at every turn, even (spoiler alert!) the true villain, whom she defeats using – I kid you not – logic. The movie tricks you into thinking she’s made a mistake by showing her hand too soon and letting on that she knows he’s the killer before telling anyone else, he’s got her at gunpoint, and she’s cool as a cucumber, explaining step-by-step how killing her would actually make things even worse for himself. It’s just glorious to watch, and Bergman sells that intelligence and confidence as no one else could.

Another aspect that stands out about this film and adds to that surreal vibe, is that this is one of the very first uses of the theremin in film scoring. The theremin is an electronic instrument made iconic by sci-fi films of the next decade like The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Thing (from Another World). Composer Miklos Rozsa’s use of it here made quite an impression, as he won an Oscar for this film, and rightfully so. The eye-popping visuals, the escapist, fairytale-esque take on the story and concepts, and the unique score combine to make for a very dreamlike experience that feels very unlike any other Hitchcock film, and when you add one of his smartest and strongest heroines on top of that, you have what has essentially become one of my favorite “comfort” Hitchcock films.

 

[Neno_Kos]

The Lady Vanishes is underrated movie. I enjoyed heck out it.

 

[ComicChick]

great review @flickchick85 i really do believe you've found a niche and some followers here.

you should totally have your own review thread, blog, something. they're very well written!

 

[flickchick85]

great review @flickchick85 i really do believe you've found a niche and some followers here.

you should totally have your own review thread, blog, something. they're very well written!

Thanks CC!

 

[flickchick85]

9.) The 39 Steps (1935)

Here’s a British Hitchcock film that feels like a Hollywood Hitchcock film. The pinnacle of his British career, the 39 Steps may as well be considered the prototype for all of Hitchcock’s Hollywood spy capers. It’s got the “wrong man accused” thriller element, the mysterious MacGuffin, the comedic banter between the protagonist and the love interest he’s dragging along with him on the run, a love interest who would most certainly classify as a “Hitchcock blonde” – all elements that would become staples throughout his Hollywood career, through films like Saboteur and North by Northwest. This is that spy caper model in arguably its purest, most streamlined form.

This film wastes no time diving right into the plot. Robert Donat stars as Richard Hannay, a Canadian staying in London for a bit, attending a demonstration of “Mr. Memory,” a guy with – you guessed it – extraordinary memory abilities, at a downtown music hall when gunshots are fired and the place goes nuts. Hannay finds himself comforting a seemingly frightened woman who convinces him to take her back to his flat. There it’s revealed that she is actually a British spy, those gunshots were for her, and she’s still being pursued by assassins after uncovering a plot to steal sensitive British military data, a plot that she says involves the mysterious “39 Steps,” but does not elaborate on who or what that is. That night, she is killed right there in Hannay’s flat, but not before warning him to flee and giving him a destination in Scotland to find an ally. Hannay sneaks out of the apartment where more assassins are waiting, boards a train to Scotland. On the train he learns via the newspapers that he’s being fingered for the woman’s murder and is considered a fugitive, and also, while hiding from authorities, he sneaks into the train compartment of Madeline Carroll’s character Pamela, and before you know it, she’s getting swept up into the adventure. Cue banter, romance and intrigue.

The reason this film works so well is the economy of storytelling – despite its somewhat episodic nature, at 86 minutes, the film moves at a fast clip, and not a single one of those minutes is wasted – and the reason it’s such a memorable classic comes largely down to the cast. I’ll be honest, I usually find romances in these old movies to be a bit of a bore, due to how generally sexless they are thanks to the restrictions and taboos of the times. The 39 Steps is a rare exception to that, as Donat and Carroll play off each other so brilliantly, their chemistry is fire, and it didn’t take long for me to be actively rooting for them to get together. I honestly don’t need a plot here – I’d watch two hours of these two just bouncing off each other in a heartbeat. I kinda wish there was a sequel just so I could see more of them. But I suppose that’s the sign of a great movie. It delivers on everything it promises, yet leaves you wanting more. Thankfully, in the case of the Hitchcock spy caper, there would be plenty more to come in his Hollywood career. But only The 39 Steps has the magic of Donat and Carroll (who would soon after this go on to have a successful Hollywood career herself), and that makes this one a unique and special experience.

 

[ComicChick]

at one time, Carroll was the highest paid actress in the world. i did know that fun fact!

and this is from her wiki page:
The director [Hitchcock] wanted to re-team Carroll with her 39 Steps co-star Robert Donat the following year in Secret Agent, a spy thriller based on a work by W. Somerset Maugham. However, Donat's recurring health problems intervened, resulting in a Carroll–John Gielgud pairing. In between the films she made a short drama The Story of Papworth (1935).

 

[flickchick85]

at one time, Carroll was the highest paid actress in the world. i did know that fun fact!

and this is from her wiki page:
The director [Hitchcock] wanted to re-team Carroll with her 39 Steps co-star Robert Donat the following year in Secret Agent, a spy thriller based on a work by W. Somerset Maugham. However, Donat's recurring health problems intervened, resulting in a Carroll–John Gielgud pairing. In between the films she made a short drama The Story of Papworth (1935).

I did not know either of those facts! That 2nd one makes me sad we were robbed of another team-up for them.

 

[ComicChick]

i know really random trivia, but am very novice in the amount of movies i have seen

but! at least i'm working on it. and i'm still a big fan of your reviews flick. i still think you should make youre own thread eventually, and maybe copy these over to it too. you make me want to learn to write better reviews but i'm not sure i have it in me lol

 

[flickchick85]

i know really random trivia, but am very novice in the amount of movies i have seen

but! at least i'm working on it. and i'm still a big fan of your reviews flick. i still think you should make youre own thread eventually, and maybe copy these over to it too. you make me want to learn to write better reviews but i'm not sure i have it in me lol

Thanks, CC. I'm thinking I'll probably do that once I start on the next director I do. And I'm enjoying your "At the Movies" reviews so far too!!

 

[flickchick85]

8.) Rope (1948)

Rope is one of those movies that may seem simple at first glance, but is, at least from a technical standpoint, actually anything but. In fact I’d say it’s one of Hitchcock’s most notable technical achievements, one that really pushed the presumed boundaries of the medium at the time. And that ain’t because it’s his first color film. But I’m obviously not ranking these films on a “technical achievement” scale; that Rope also happens to be tense and riveting for every single second of its 80-minute runtime, doing so much with so little plot, is why it earns a spot so high on my list. And when I say “so little plot,” I mean it really does have very little plot – two students have just strangled their fellow Harvard classmate to death, hide the body in a wooden chest in their apartment, and host a dinner party with the body still there just to experience the thrill of getting away with. That’s it, that’s the plot. Where the “technical achievement” part comes in is that it is very famously one of the earliest examples of the “one take” film in Hollywood filmmaking. The film takes place in real time and is set entirely in one apartment, and though it actually does contain several hidden cuts, each take was at least 10 minutes long, and it gives off the appearance of all being shot in one take. This means it required countless rehearsals, moving set pieces and complicated and precise camera blocking to pull off. Not to mention some seamless editing at carefully chosen points to sell the illusion. And yes, the filming style is highly impressive and does make the film stand out, but honestly, I get a little sick of that being the go-to talking point whenever this film is brought up. Rope is so much better than just a filming technique. Hell, Hitchcock employed the same filming techniques the very next year in Under Capricorn and, despite me believing it to be underrated, the fact is barely anyone ever talks about that one at all. The reason people still talk about Rope is because, filming technique aside, this film simply grabs you.

It’s based on a play by Patrick Hamilton, and you can tell because it’s set in one location and driven entirely by the characters and dialogue, but it’s easy to see why those characters and dialogue appealed to Hitchcock because it might as well have come straight out of his head. For example, it deals in taboos, which he always loved - there’s some serious homoerotic subtext going on with these characters, and he made it as explicit as possible for the times. It’s fascinated with the idea of the perfect murder, which of course he liked to dabble in as well, and this film actually reminds me of Dial M for Murder in ways beyond that, which I’ll get into in a minute. It’s also centered around a definite sociopath, and y'all know Hitch never met a sociopathic character he didn’t want to immortalize on celluloid! But seriously, John Dall’s character Brandon is a real piece of work. He and Farley Granger’s character Phillip are the ones who murder their classmate David, and they do it as an intellectual exercise after being enthralled by their former teacher’s (Jimmy Stewart) lectures on Nietzsche and the Ubermensch – essentially to assert their superiority over their “weaker” classmate. It’s Brandon’s idea to throw the dinner party and serve the dinner to their guests on the trunk that their dead classmate’s body is contained in as a pure ego stroke, and even to invite their former teacher to enhance their intellectual victory by get away with this right under his nose. As the evening goes on, Phillip becomes more and more unsettled by what they’ve done and what they're doing, while Brandon remains cool as a cucumber, like a proper sociopath.

I mentioned this reminds me of Dial M for Murder, not just for being a dialogue-heavy chamber piece based on a play, but also because the character of Brandon is handled in a similar way as Ray Milland’s villainous husband in that – he’s essentially the protagonist in that he’s the main character driving the plot, but the tension still comes from the will-he-get-away-with-it factor because we want to see him caught. Rope adds to that tension with the wildcard Phillip character who seems like he could break down at any minute – his nervousness makes us nervous, despite us also wanting them to get caught. It’s an interesting tightrope. Dall and Dial M’s Milland both play their characters with such exquisite narcissism and hubris that we can’t wait to see this all blow up in their faces. And of course, Brandon’s plan to assert his intellectual superiority eventually backfires because Stewart’s character Rupert actually does begin to catch on and figure out that something seriously fishy is going down, and the joy of watching this little exercise unravel is deeply satisfying.

 

[Dark Raven]

Great review FlickChick. Rope is an excellent movie.

The plot is actually based off Leopold and Loeb , two real-life wealthy psychopathic students who did the exact same thing of killing someone and then trying to get away with it in the way they did.

Hitchcock definitely does play up the homosexual subtext between the two. He has Farley Granger play that piece on the piano by Poulenc, who was apparently a gay composer.



Also, I like the way Hitchcock makes use of the metronome in that scene. It's like a ticking time bomb about to explode, ramping up the tension as James Stewart digs deeper with his incessant questioning.

 

[flickchick85]

Great review FlickChick. Rope is an excellent movie.

The plot is actually based off Leopold and Loeb , two real-life wealthy psychopathic students who did the exact same thing of killing someone and then trying to get away with it in the way they did.

Hitchcock definitely does play up the homosexual subtext between the two. He has Farley Granger play that piece on the piano by Poulenc, who was apparently a gay composer.



Also, I like the way Hitchcock makes use of the metronome in that scene. It's like a ticking time bomb about to explode, ramping up the tension as James Stewart digs deeper with his incessant questioning.

Oh damn, I didn't know the play was based on a real murder. That's interesting. Seems those two have inspired multiple works of fiction, including that Murder by Numbers movie with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Gosling. Well Rope was waaaay better, ha!

And yeah, love that ticking metronome, and the way the music speeds up too.

Lifeboat's about to come on TCM, y'all!

 

[Dark Raven]

Oh damn, I didn't know the play was based on a real murder. That's interesting. Seems those two have inspired multiple works of fiction, including that Murder by Numbers movie with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Gosling. Well Rope was waaaay better, ha!

And yeah, love that ticking metronome, and the way the music speeds up too.

Lifeboat's about to come on TCM, y'all!

They could have a Marvel version of it with Leopold Fitz and Jeph Loeb.

 

[flickchick85]

7.) Rear Window (1954)

The last and best of his chamber-pieces on my list, Rear Window is one of those universally heralded Hitchcock classics. And it’s a small-wonder why, as it’s arguably his most broadly-appealing film. It’s got the murder mystery, thrills and suspense in spades, but it’s also got the comedy and the charming romantic couple at the center of it for those who prefer his lighter fare. It’s all meshed together seamlessly in one lean, mean effective package with a plot as simple and brilliant as they come – A photographer (played by James Stewart) confined to his apartment due to a broken leg takes a voyeuristic interest in spying on his neighbors and comes to suspect one of them has murdered his wife. It doesn’t get much simpler than that. But what’s brilliant in this setup is how the glaring vulnerability of our protagonist is built right into that premise. Stewart’s character Jeff is confined to a wheelchair for the duration of the film. So as his suspicions start to track and we become more convinced this particular neighbor is in fact a murderer, the more we fear for our protagonist’s safety because we know he’s in absolutely no position to defend himself should the potential murderer learn of Jeff’s interest in his activities. So the tension is there from the moment that premise is presented. What's also there in that premise is the humor. Jeff can't move. He's bored. And it's actually not a leap to think he WANTS this murder to be real just to alleviate his boredom. The movie mines this situation for all the suspense and comedy it's worth.

Another aspect that makes this film standout so well is the colorful collection of characters assembled, and how they’re used to flesh out our protagonist and his lady love Lisa, a good-natured wealthy socialite played by Grace Kelly. Jeff and Lisa are an odd couple to be sure, but their relationship is used to inject some genuine romance and levity into the proceedings and it works like a charm. We get to know the neighbors through their perspectives. Jeff has nicknames for the neighbors he’s been spying on, like the dancer with several gentlemen callers he refers to “Miss Torso,” or the single middle-aged woman dubbed “Miss Lonelyhearts.” He and Lisa view these characters in different ways, and the screenplay by John Michael Hayes (who would subsequently work with Hitchcock again on The Man Who Knew Too Much, The Trouble with Harry and To Catch a Thief) rather cleverly uses these different views on their neighbors to further flesh out Jeff and Lisa as characters and give us insight into what makes them tick, and what is and isn’t working about their relationship. Aside from the main plotline of the traveling salesman who may or may not have killed his wife, the other neighbors all have these little background subplots going on that we get glimpses of through Jeff’s POV, they run in parallel and intersect with Jeff and Lisa’s story, and they all get various resolutions by the end. And speaking of Jeff’s POV, this premise obviously presents Hitchcock with plenty of opportunities for POV shots, and he of course takes advantage.

All off this primarily works to give this film an unusual amount of life. This apartment complex feels like a living, breathing character in the film through its tenants, and therefore ends up being one of the more memorable settings in a Hitchcock film. That lively backdrop, combined with the streamlined plot, the thrill of the chase as Jeff tries to investigate and convince those around him of his suspicions, the growing suspense of our disabled protagonist unwittingly provoking a murderer which is only further exacerbated when Lisa takes a gung-ho approach to the investigation, and the amusing dynamic between Stewart and Kelly, creates one of the tightest, most well-rounded pieces of entertainment in Hitchcock’s filmography.

 

[Dark Raven]

Great review FlickChick.

I probably would've put Rear Window a little higher. One of the neighbouring windows that fascinated me most was the one with the piano and seeing people hosting that kind of evening soiree. I think Rear Window is one film to watch on a summer evening.

I hope you don't put Psycho at #1 just because you feel you have to, if it is indeed your #1.

BTW have you seen this?

 

[flickchick85]

Great review FlickChick.

I probably would've put Rear Window a little higher. One of the neighbouring windows that fascinated me most was the one with the piano and seeing people hosting that kind of evening soiree. I think Rear Window is one film to watch on a summer evening.

I hope you don't put Psycho at #1 just because you feel you have to, if it is indeed your #1.

BTW have you seen this?

That cat is precious, and naturally seems to have a good face for watching horror.

And yeah, I think I could even enjoy Rear Window without the murder plot, as the voyeuristic stuff is entertaining enough on its own.

Fear not, Psycho is not #1 on my list. Let me put it this way...the top 3 you'd probably most suspect to be my #1 are actually the next 3 on the list.

 

[Black Narcissus]

 

[flickchick85]

6.) Psycho (1960)

Is there a more famous, more spoofed, more referenced Hitchcock film than Psycho? The next two films on my list may give it a run for its money, but I doubt it. Hitchcock basically invented the slasher film with this movie, but aside from birthing a whole subgenre, it gave us what may well be the most iconic scene ever made, and in filmmaking terms, was a bold trailblazer in multiple ways. So much of the film seems to be ingrained in public consciousness – the shower scene, Marion Crane, Norman Bates, the Bates Motel, that Bernard Hermann score – that it’s hard to look past all that context and just look at the film as a film, but one thing is clear no matter what: Psycho is a movie that came to f*** with its audience. And hopefully have fun with them, too. For all that this is looked back upon as a masterpiece, one of the most important films in cinema history and analyzed to death for its filmmaking techniques, Hitchcock himself claimed the movie was intended to be “tongue-in-cheek” and was dismayed to see that some people took it so seriously (in context, he was referring to the people who were offended by its darkness and violence at the time, not so much film scholars). Because honestly, this is a movie that just wants to have some trashy grotesque fun at its audience’s expense. And boy does it ever. You know that “I came out to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now” meme? This is basically that in movie form. It's one of the earliest examples I can think of a movie that intentionally fools its audience into thinking it’s one kind of film, then takes a turn and becomes something else (something aggressively more sinister) entirely. I’ve personally always been a fan of early twists like this, even though they don’t always work. But in Psycho, it most certainly works.

The film opens as a kind of crime thriller drama, introducing us to Movie Star(!) Janet Leigh as Marion Crane, a woman who’s frustrated her boyfriend Sam Loomis (John Gavin) won’t marry her due to his debts, so she ends up stealing $40,000 from her job and goes on the run, intending to drive from Arizona to California to meet up with Sam. The film takes great care in getting us invested in Marion – despite her criminal act, she’s portrayed as a sympathetic character, who did what she did out of desperation, and before long, she’s already regretting it and resolved to return the money. We follow every step of her journey, as she pulls off the road and falls asleep, only to have a skittish encounter with a state trooper, then to a dealership where she trades in cars and escapes to secluded motel. We are with her as she tries to decide what to make of the oddball proprietor of the motel, Norman Bates (a brilliant Anthony Perkins), who spends a bit too much time pontificating about his mother in their nice little dinner chat. And we are with her afterwards when she resolves to drive back to Arizona in the morning, return the money and face the consequences of her actions, but not before taking a shower to wash herself clean of her misdeeds and begin anew. All in all, Hitchcock’s care and attention paid to Marion Crane’s inner life and motivations makes her one of his most memorable, fleshed-out heroines of his filmography. Or, she would have been. Because it’s in this shower scene where the audience is slapped in the face with the shocking and horrible realization that Marion Crane isn’t our heroine at all – she’s the victim. Spoiler alert: Norman Bates is the titular psycho and true star of this film. Yep, less than half-way through the film, 47 minutes into it in fact, our Movie Star(!) is brutally murdered in the shower because she just happened to stop a hotel run by a murderous psychopath (and his mother?), and all bets are officially off. The film becomes an unsettling journey into the life and psyche of one Norman Bates, his relationship with Mother, and the aftermath of what we’ll come to learn is merely the latest in a long line of murders (further complicated when other interested parties - including Marion's sister played by Vera Miles - come looking for her). Suddenly all that drama with Sam and the money feels like one big misdirect - prepping us to have the rug pulled out from under us by the actual premise of the film. It is both surprising, and perhaps a bit disappointing from a modern perspective, that Hitchcock managed to create one of his most well-rounded heroines for this film, while her sole purpose all along was to die for the shock value. Admittedly, shock value is a big part of Psycho’s appeal, and while that whole gag may feel like a pedestrian and clichéd move now, it was bold, unique and fresh at the time. In fact, I’d argue it became cliché in subsequent decades precisely because it was so brilliant in Psycho.

On the technical front, Psycho also stands out from Hitchcock’s other work. His TV show, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, was in full swing at this time, and after Paramount’s reluctance over the content of the film, Hitch was forced to co-finance Psycho himself and film it on the cheap, which meant using his TV crew instead of his usual movie crews. This resulted in a marked aesthetic difference from his prior work, but it’s a difference that I very much believe works in the film’s favor. For one, it’s shot in black-and-white, which was no longer the standard at the time (Hitch himself had been shooting in color for 6 years at that point). The camera angles and framing are also notably more stark and intimate. These elements combine to create a decidedly more eerie, claustrophobic feel, especially once we get to the Bates Motel, and it effectively makes the audience feel like they’re trapped there like one of the victims. And I can’t talk about this movie without spending time on that shower scene. As an editor, this is a particularly big scene for me. When you take classes on film editing, you inevitably get hammered over the head with Kuleshov, the guy who basically invented and demonstrated concept of using the cutting of two images together to activate a viewer’s imagination to fill in the blanks and draw connections, and Eisenstein, one of the guys who first implemented that in a narrative sense. And yes, watching Eisenstein’s work, I can certainly grasp the effectiveness of this concept on an intellectual level, but I think the shower scene in Psycho is one of the early examples of this where I really felt it. Viscerally. There’s no actual violence shown in the scene. We see a knife being swung repeatedly, we see Janet Leigh screaming and turning her head, hands struggling, blood trickling toward the shower drain. We see a shower curtain tangling in hands. These images are cut together so manically, and paired with Bernard Hermann’s shrieking dissonant score, that the result is an absolutely brutal murder that isn’t seen, so much as felt. It’s an iconic, seminal piece of filmmaking craft that demonstrates the power that image and sound combined are capable of and the impact they can have on a viewer. And the film's surprises don't end with the shower scene. When Hitchcock made Psycho, he was at the height of his fame. Not only had he made multiple hits at this point, but he’d also spent 5 years in people's living rooms, thrilling and surprising them every week on Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Audiences knew him, and he knew exactly what they wanted from him. There was a relationship there. A challenge. Psycho might as well be considered an interactive film, because with this one, their expectations were essential to the experience, and Hitchcock rose to that unspoken challenge and played the audience like fiddle.

 

[Dark Raven]

Great review FlickChick.

Who would you say that audiences thought the "psycho" of the movie's title was before they realised it was Norman Bates? Or what did they think "psycho" referred to? Did they think it was Marion Crane in any way?

Also, I can't remember how the film started. Did it have credits in the beginning? If so, who was billed first? Was it Janet Leigh? Or was it Anthony Perkins or Vera Miles? I would've thought that if either of the latter two were billed first, it might give it away that Janet Leigh wasn't as big a character or that Perkins was the main character. However, if he were stuck in there amongst the many other names and billed lower down, he could just seem like a random person of no particular importance that Leigh encountered.

 

[Dr.]

Who would you say that audiences thought the "psycho" of the movie's title was before they realised it was Norman Bates? Or what did they think "psycho" referred to? Did they think it was Marion Crane in any way?

In terms of how the narrative unfolds, I suppose the mysterious Mrs. Bates would have been the initial prime suspect.

 

[Dark Raven]

In terms of how the narrative unfolds, I suppose the mysterious Mrs. Bates would have been the initial prime suspect.

Well I think she was the suspect all along, because audiences did not know Norman and her one and the same but thought she was a separate person.

But since Hitchcock bought up all copies of the book from which it was adapted (so people couldn't read the plot beforehand), I'm wondering what audiences thought the film was about when they first went into the theatre to see it. Since it was focused on Marion Crane and seemed to be about her, did they think that Norman was just an incidental character at a place she stayed at temporarily and that after she left the motel it would just follow her for the rest of the film and forget about him? And if so, who or what did they think the "psycho" of the movie title was about?

If Perkins had top billing though and seemed to be the star of the film, it would've made it obvious the film was probably focused on him. That's why I wondered if there were even any opening credits at the start as I couldn't remember.

 

[Dr.]

If Perkins had top billing though and seemed to be the star of the film, it would've made it obvious the film was probably focused on him. That's why I wondered if there were even any opening credits at the start as I couldn't remember.

The opening credits (available on YouTube) have Anthony Perkins getting top billing. Janet Leigh is listed last. But it’s one of those specialized (so-called) “and-as“ credits. So in terms of which actor was given prominence, it’s a toss up.

 

[Dark Raven]

The opening credits (available on YouTube) have Anthony Perkins getting top billing. Janet Leigh is listed last. But it’s one of those specialized (so-called) “and-as“ credits. So in terms of which actor was given prominence, it’s a toss up.

I think they should've done it like a Marvel movie with no opening credits so that you wouldn't know how main a character Perkins was to avoid ruining the surprise. With him right at the top it seems like the film is probably going to be about him.

 

[flickchick85]

Great review FlickChick.

Who would you say that audiences thought the "psycho" of the movie's title was before they realised it was Norman Bates? Or what did they think "psycho" referred to? Did they think it was Marion Crane in any way?

Also, I can't remember how the film started. Did it have credits in the beginning? If so, who was billed first? Was it Janet Leigh? Or was it Anthony Perkins or Vera Miles? I would've thought that if either of the latter two were billed first, it might give it away that Janet Leigh wasn't as big a character or that Perkins was the main character. However, if he were stuck in there amongst the many other names and billed lower down, he could just seem like a random person of no particular importance that Leigh encountered.

Well, this is the original theatrical trailer:



Based on that, I'd say people knew the motel was significant once Marion got there, and would have expected the bulk of the action to happen there, but I'm sure they expected to follow Marion through it all, and for her to meet Mrs. Bates and sort of gradually figure out something was seriously wrong, leading up to a climactic showdown with Marion fighting for her life at the end or something. So yeah, I'd say despite Perkins getting top billing in the opening credits (I don't think people read into that stuff back then the way they do now, and even if they did, as @Dr. pointed out, she got that "special" billing at the end with her being the only one whose character name was also listed...suggesting she was the most important character), the audience was clearly set-up to assume Mrs. Bates was going to be the psycho of the tale. With Perkins having top billing, they might've even figured Norman would turn against his mother and become Marion's ally and hero by the end. So he probably wasn't positioned to seem like an "incidental character," but certainly not the main villain, either.

 

[Dark Raven]

Well, this is the original theatrical trailer:



Based on that, I'd say people knew the motel was significant once Marion got there, and would have expected the bulk of the action to happen there, but I'm sure they expected to follow Marion through it all, and for her to meet Mrs. Bates and sort of gradually figure out something was seriously wrong, leading up to a climactic showdown with Marion fighting for her life at the end or something. So yeah, I'd say despite Perkins getting top billing in the opening credits (I don't think people read into that stuff back then the way they do now, and even if they did, as @Dr. pointed out, she got that "special" billing at the end with her being the only one whose character name was also listed...suggesting she was the most important character), the audience was clearly set-up to assume Mrs. Bates was going to be the psycho of the tale. With Perkins having top billing, they might've even figured Norman would turn against his mother and become Marion's ally and hero by the end. So he probably wasn't positioned to seem like an "incidental character," but certainly not the main villain, either.

Hitchcock seems like he is accidentally about to give the plot away at several points in that trailer. Also the music sometimes seems quite jovial for such a dark film. Doesn't seem like it would give you any indication of what it would be like.

FlickChick, have you watched any of the Psycho sequels, and if so, what do you think of them? I've only watched Psycho 2 but none of the others. I find it a bit excessive and unnecessary turning a Hitchcock film into a series of slasher flicks. It dilutes the original product somewhat.