After 50 Years, It's Still a Classic. 

Some movies live inside us long after we see them. That’s why we check the safety lock on hotel doors before we take a shower. And why the name Norman Bates makes us smile and shiver at the same time. And why so many people assume that Anthony Perkins must have been creepy in real life because “nobody’s that good an actor!” But he was. And it helped make “Psycho” the classic it is.

If you want proof of Hitchcock’s genius on this 50th anniversary of his 1960 masterpiece, check out the 1998 word-for-word remake with Vince Vaughn and Anne Heche. The difference intimidates would-be filmmakers, who ask themselves how the exact same script can be made into such a dismal failure or become nothing less than the template for all horror films that followed. 

I first saw “Psycho” as a boy in Lake Mohawk, New Jersey at a theater that for some reason got their movies well ahead of the New York market nearby. So no one knew what to expect. My childhood buddies and I sat behind my sisters and four of their friends.

As the detective, Arbogast neared the top of the stairs, I somehow thought it would ease my fear if my sisters were scared even more. So as Norman’s mother came running into the hallway with that raised knife and those shrieking violins I touched their shoulders! Their screams were deafening and triggered more screams in our whole section. They were furious at me for days, and the younger one wouldn’t shower for months.

What makes (present tense intended) “Psycho” so good? Even film classes can’t cover it all. But let’s start with the shower scene. In one of the scariest moments in movie history, the gruesome knife murder of a beautiful woman at her most vulnerable – the woman we thought was the main character – comes at us so fast and so brutally it staggers us and switches on an adrenalin drip that lasts for the rest of the film and beyond. We’re left thinking, “This can’t be. She’s the star.” That’s when you know you’re in a whole new kind of movie. And now anything can happen. The adrenalin keeps dripping.

And Hitchcock keeps playing with us. After Norman covers up his “mother’s” mess we’re somehow on his side! Why else did we find ourselves worrying along with Norman when the car stopped sinking in the swamp. And why we were rooting for him not to be tripped up during his interrogation by Arbogast. Remember how we felt when he made the mistake of telling Arbogast about his mother meeting Marion? The master was setting us up. The dutiful son with the gentle voice who was just trying to help his poor old mother was never suspected. And that made our discovery all the more frightening when we came face to face with Norman the Oedipal train wreck killer and his decaying mother under that swinging lamp in the fruit cellar – an image still living in our collective consciousness.  

Hitchcock taps into one of our deepest fears, felt more so by women – an unexpected act of violence just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and accidentally triggering rage in the wrong psycho. And at the same time he’s preparing us like fatted calves for the slaughter, he’s treating us to his sly sadistic humor. 

Hitchcock often referred to his macabre masterpiece in comedic terms. Oh, we don’t notice it so much on the first viewing. We’re too scared. But the next time you have the privilege, watch two scenes in particular – Norman and Marion in his stuffed animal parlor when he treats her to a sandwich and milk, and the scene where Arbogast questions the increasingly fidgety Norman. If you haven’t already, you may see the Perkins performance in a whole new light – understated quirky perfection that made “Psycho” one of the blackest of black comedies and one of the scariest films of all time. 

No matter your age, turn down the lights and treat yourself and someone you trust with your life to a 50th Anniversary viewing of this essential film lover’s classic.