January 21, 2010

I first saw “Psycho” in an order that must be unusual among Hitchcock devotees: it was the last of his American movies that I watched. I had avoided it for a long time, imagining that it must be exploitative, terrifying, akin to the “slasher” movies so popular at slumber parties. In fact, its big “moments” had become so canonical as to have lost their shock value. It seemed to have three merits: Bernard Herrmann’s unforgettable score, thrilling despite its future entrenchment as a musical cliché; Anthony Perkins’s haunting performance; and the most famous set piece, the impressive, disturbing shower scene. But even these merits were reminders of the film’s many obvious deficiencies. The technical challenges were the raison d’etre. The psychology was farfetched and over-explicated. The feeling of the film reflected the way it was made: on a low budget with a crew from the “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” television show. The structure was problematic; had the film actually been an episode of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” it could have ended after the shower scene, followed by Hitchcock himself invisibly wiping the blood from the corners of his mouth as he said, “This young lady has discovered that crime doesn’t pay. I don’t think she will attempt any more thefts, do you?”