The Columbus Free Press

Film
Review
Psycho

by Rich Elias, Dec 10, 1998

  • 105 Minutes
  • Rated R
  • 2 Stars
Director Gus Van Sant's remake of "Psycho" deliberately attempts to make sure nothing has changed. Critics around the country are stomping on this movie with both feet, perhaps in revenge for Van Sant's refusal to preview it for us. Note: My comments on the new "Psycho" may spoil it for readers who don't already know the story.

I saw it and can report that, yes, it is almost a shot for shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 killer thriller, the granddaddy of many modern slasher movies but infinitely more interesting than most of its spawn. I said "almost" because I detected a few changes. (I haven't had a chance to watch the 1960 film this week so I may not be 100% accurate here.) In the scene where Arbogast, the detective, climbs the steps in the Bates house, I thought I detected two quick cuts to a night sky with birds of prey whirling around, so quick as to be almost subliminal. I don't remember this in the original movie.

On the other hand, Van Sant is slavishly close to the 1960 film in its odder moments. At one point, when Marion's boyfriend and sister are searching for her at the motel, he looks up and says, "I don't like the look of that sky." In the Hitchcock, it's a perfectly clear, sunny day. The line makes no sense. Van Sant has Viggo Mortenson say it against a clear, sunny sky too. Hitchcock was famous for his quick cameo appearances in all his movies. In "Psycho" he is seen walking across the street in front of Marion's car ; Van Sant duplicates this with a Hitchcock lookalike.

Van Sant also refused to modify the next-to-last scene in which a psychiatrist (Robert Forster) delivers a psychobabble monologue explaining, in classic Freudian terms, exactly what went wrong with Norman Bates. Back in 1960, America was still in love with Freud. His books were available in drugstore paperback racks, his ideas were popularized by dozens of authors. His theory about the Oedipus complex was widely used to analyze all kinds of character maladies, including Norman Bates' problem with his mother.

I've often wondered about that scene in the 1960 movie. It always seemed phony to me, as if Hitchcock felt obligated to give the audience an explanation it could accept even if it actually explained nothing at all. Hitchcock always seemed more convincing when his movies uncover the darker corners of the soul, the place we try to hide an innate sense of evil and guilt. My guess is that Hitchcock probably got this more from his Catholic upbringing in late Victorian England than from Freud's pseudoscientific interpretation of instincts. A student taking a college film course could write a terrific paper examining how Hitchcock used psychoanalysis in his movies. Come to think of it, my son is taking such a course next semester. Maybe I'll put him on task.

This hypothetical student could also write an A paper detailing the impact of filming the remake in color. Hitchcock had made color movies before "Psycho" but decided to shoot his horror thriller in black and white. One reported reason was that he thought the blood swirling down the drain in the shower scene wouldn't get past the censors if the blood was red. (We don't have such qualms any more. Go catch a funny but repulsive movie called "Very Bad Things" if you want to see blood in living color.)

But it's clear that black and white helps establish the movie's peculiar sense of claustrophobia once the action switches to the motel. Shadows creep in on all sides. The 1960 film builds suspense by switching from dark to light. Also, the tonality helped establish the connection between the motel and the weird Victorian Gothic house next to it.

Color definitely does not help the new "Psycho." Van Sant tones it down for the motel, sticking to sickly yellows and muted blues. But that just makes the Bates house look like something that landed from another planet. Also, color tends to soften the shadows that Hitchcock used to frame several key scenes. Van Sant gives Arbogast, played by William H. Macy, a hat because that's what Martin Balsam wore in the first movie. Hats are coming back today, but hat wearing is still not common. However, the electric blue hat with a white band Van Sant puts on Macy is something no man in any era would put on his head. As Macy was climbing the steps in the Bates house, I kept wondering where the character could have bought such a monstrosity. (Another change from the original: Hitchcock shot this scene in long focus, which has the effect of slowing down Arbogast's ascent and thus building suspense. Van Sant used a Steadicam to track the character. This just doesn't work.)

Finally, casting: Anthony Perkins, the original Norman Bates, started his film career as one of the 1950s movie pretty boys, like Rock Hudson and Rory Calhoun, except he was a better actor. "Psycho" pretty much froze his career. From then on his screen appearances were mostly confined to cheesy "Psycho sequels. Vince Vaughn, the new Norman, is adequate but nowhere near as compelling. Anne Heche replaces Janet Leigh but is totally wrong for the part. Leigh was another 50's stereotype, the blonde bombshell. She always looked great in lingerie. Orson Welles had already displayed this talent of hers by trapping her in a Mexican motel in "Touch of Evil" (the reissue is due in Columbus soon).

Hitchcock's opening shot, panning down a city skyline into a hotel window, deliberately turns viewers into voyeurs as we watch Leigh, in a bra, get dressed after an afternoon tryst. We get the same scene with Heche and get more skin too. But the psychodynamics are all wrong. The scene feels more like a "Cosmo" spread than an expose in the old magazine "Confidential".


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