Trailer of the Moment: Psycho Series Addendum

After finishing up my retrospective on the Death Wish series, I followed the last review with a post embedding the trailer for each film. So I thought I would do the same for the Psycho series, with a few extra Easter eggs.

Since I already did a post on the famous Alfred Hitchcock hosted original trailer a few years ago (link) I will instead focus this on the sequels and remake.

Psycho II Teaser Trailer

"It's 22 years later, and Norman Bates is coming home"



Much like the film itself, the trailer for the first Psycho sequel opens with the shower scene from the original film before the Bates Motel segues from black and white to color, and the poster art of Psycho II is recreated with Anthony Perkins walking up the stairs to his childhood home.

And who is that narrating? Why none other than our good pal Percy Rodrigues!

Psycho II Full Length Theatrical Trailer

"...and he's back in business"



This is the longer, more typical "compilation of greatest hits scenes" trailer for Richard Franklin's 1983 film.

Anthony Perkins interview circa 1983



Here's part one of a five part interview (follow the link for the other parts) with Anthony Perkins while he was promoting Psycho II. In this section he reveals he was in New York on a stage during the shooting of the original film's shower scene.

Psycho III Theatrical Trailer

"But mother's off her rocker again"



This trailer for the Anthony Perkins directed second sequel is pretty much half teaser (with extra footage shot for it) and half typical trailer with scenes from the film. The narrator here is a famous voice (whose name I am not aware) but has none of the gravitas of Mr. Rodrigues!

"Scream of Love" Music Video with introduction from Anthony Perkins



Here we have a music video for Carter Burwell's sax heavy pop song featuring the theme from Psycho III. Shot on the same locations as Psycho III and featuring a Diane Scarwid look-a-like and Perkins himself, as well as footage from the original and 1986 sequel, pay attention to the thin narrative which concludes with an Inception like dream within a dream finale.

Introduced from the MTV studio (back when MTV, you know, showed music video) by Anthony Perkins sporting a gold lame tie, fashionably tucked into his shirt. Rock on, Tony!

Psycho IV: The Beginning Trailer

"How did it all start?"



Since Psycho IV premiered on Showtime, it never had a theatrical trailer, but here's the preview that was placed on VHS tapes by Universal.

Psycho 1998 trailer

"Discover the world of Norman Bates"



And we conclude with the trailer for Gus Van Sant's infamous remake which is full of little lame music video type effects like the film burning and bubbling. Was anyone reminded of the drug PSA featuring the cracked egg after the first two tags "This is the Face of Norman Bates" and "This is the Mind of Norman Bates"? Personally, I was waiting for the final tag to be: "any questions?"

Well that's all for the Psycho series, I have plans for my next two series retrospective, one a low budget exploitation series (of which I've never seen any of the three films) and the other a highly successful but much maligned comedy series. Considering it took about a year for me to complete this, please don't hold your breath.

If you want to read my specific review for any of the film in the Psycho series, below are easy links to those:

Psycho (1960, Alfred Hitchcock) (an appreciation)
Psycho II (1983, Richard Franklin)
Psycho III (1986, Anthony Perkins)
Bates Motel (1987, Richard Rothstein)
Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990, Mick Garris)
Psycho (remake) (1998, Gus Van Sant)

"We all go a little mad sometimes"

Forewarning if you haven’t scrolled down yet: this sucker is pretty long.

The infamous Psycho remake (1998, Gus Van Sant) sat on my DV-R for about six months, and each time she would scroll past it, my wife seeing only the title and assuming it was the original would ask why a film I owned on DVD and Blu-Ray is taking up room in our DV-R while I constantly beg her to go through and delete the deluge of Masterpiece Theatre episodes accumulated (I can be a fascist with our recorder). After publishing my review of Psycho IV here back on February 1st, I only had the remake to watch and review before completing my look back at the series. Yet, try as I might, I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to actually watch it, until finally this week, like one pulling off a bandage in a single swift motion, I decided: it’s time. Here’s the thing, I think for people interested in film studies and theory there is a value in revisiting films that you had a highly charged negative reaction to, especially if the film in question is made by a person of some artistic integrity and/or you came into the film with some preconceived notions or opinions. This is something I was definitely guilty of in regards to this film.

Van Sant’s Psycho lead to my first attempt at starting a website, because what the internet needed in the winter of 1998 was another hot and bothered twenty year old’s bitching diatribe about that film. Ultimately, a combination of bad dial-up connection and boredom slash laziness with Geocities programming led to that becoming a non-starter. As stated in my first post in the series, starting at the age of ten, I have claimed Alfred Hitchcock’s original Psycho to be my favorite film of all-time. Something that probably is not actually true anymore, though I still very much admire and get a cinematic charge from it, while also not blind to its faults. Either way, it still and forever remains a very important film in my cinematic education for reasons I will just gloss over (you can read that appreciation for further details): first black and white film I connected with (discounting opening of Wizard of Oz and various Three Stooges shorts), first time I was cognizant of the role of the director, and a personal history between my father and I. Twelve and a half years ago, Van Sant’s film seemed like a personal insult, but in 2011, it’s a little easier to swallow; the original’s legacy has not been tarnished by the remake and when you refer to Psycho I doubt anyone has to add the qualifier, “I mean the black and white one”.

In fact so much time has passed I think that some history of Van Sant’s project needs to be addressed. Flashback to winter 1997/98, half the country has Titanic-itis, while the other half caught Good Will Hunting fever (personally, I had contracted the rarer Jackie Brown whooping cough, which for most people was a short lived ailment that they couldn’t help but compare to earlier, more financially successfully diseases, but for people infected with it, is ultimately a more interesting and rewarding experience). So struck by the success of this scrappy Boston indie drama and their “how’d ya like those apples” precociousness, Hollywood offered screenwriters and stars Matt Damon and Ben Affleck the keys to the city. “Hey Ben and Matt welcome to success, please take the leads of any projects of your choice, and feel free to fuck whichever starlets your heart desire, I hear Winona Ryder and Gwyneth Paltrow are willing and able. Wink wink, nudge nudge” Caught in this contagious spell, and completely ignoring the disastrous result of Van Sant’s first attempt at a studio film, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues from only three years prior, Universal offered the director his pick to make or remake any film in its vault. Want to make a new version of Duck Soup with Chris Kattan, Jim Bruer, David Spade and Rob Schneider? Go for it! An inter-species romance between E.T. and the Bride of Frankenstein? We love it! Strolling past the famous Bates house, Van Sant smirked “I’ve got a crazy idea, a shot for shot remake of Psycho, in color!” And history, and infamy, was born.

I am on the fourth paragraph here and have yet to discuss the film itself. So, mild mannered administrator Marion Crane (Anne Heche) is having an affair with unhappily married Sam Loomis (Viggo Mortenson who went for the Hitchcock 1998 remake gold by also appearing in that summer’s Dial M for Murder “reimagining”, A Perfect Murder) who needs money to get a divorce and allow an open relationship between the lovers. She steals some cash and hides away at a motel operated by a lonely man named Norman (Vince Vaughn)…okay, just kidding, I won’t condescend you with a plot synopsis. I am assuming if you’re reading this, you know the fucking plot of Psycho. So let’s get straight to the filmmaking choices Van Sant makes. First of all for the claims of just taking the original film and making a shot for shot remake? That pretty much goes out the window with the first goddamn shot of the film which is a long zooming shot presumably filmed on a helicopter. To Van Sant’s credit this was actually Hitchcock’s preferred opening shot but he was limited my money or technology. However, to Van Sant’s discredit the lame subliminal insert shots of clouds and other odd cutaways during the two murder scenes reek of either cliché bad film school or music video techniques that are more apropos of a hacky in your face Rob Zombie film (apparently a song by him is actually on the soundtrack, but I guess I missed it) than Hitchcock.

I am not sure if it was an intentional commentary on Van Sant’s part about alleged sinking intelligence of then modern audiences or just a preference for being blunt, but everything in the remake is obnoxiously hit your over the head obvious. For example, in the opening hotel rendezvous between Marion and Sam, the seedy location is made evident in the original through dialogue and subtle visual clues, however, in the remake not only does the dialogue remain (it’s the same exact script after all), but the color and the gaudy décor in the place are turned up to satirical levels, and on top of everything else, the sound design is full of moaning sexual encounters leaking through the walls. More notoriously Van Sant unnecessarily added the sound of Norman masturbating during the shower sequence which is an insulting miscalculation. Van Sant is assuming something like 75% of the audience will have already seen the original or be aware of the film’s final twist, and he’s operating as such, however, it completely changes the character of Norman Bates who in the original has been so repressed sexually that his “mother” would never allow such an openly gratuitous act.

Thanks to cinematographer Christopher Doyle (most famously known for his collaborations with Hong Kong filmmaker Wong Kar-Wai in the 90’s) the remake at least looks great, with an emphasis on bright color. I prefer the more muted template that Richard Franklin established when Psycho II first introduced us to a color universe for the Bates motel, but the change from the stark black and white John Russell shot original to the gaudy almost Technicolor palette of Van Sant’s film is one of the more successful differences here. There’s definitely a kitsch vibe to the color, production design and costuming that makes everything (purposefully) exist in more of a movie universe than real world—the stolen money is off color and resembles the type of funny money you buy at a magic shop more than actual cash—I do wonder why they bothered to set this film firmly in 1998 instead of having it be some weird Wes Anderson-ish amalgamation where people listen to iPods but still use typewriters. The kitsch factor leads one to not really take the whole enterprise all that seriously, which was probably intentional. Since Van Sant is a gay man, one will notice some queer subtext, for example at one point Viggo Mortenson noticeably cradles a Judy Garland album, but as someone who has watched Hitchcock’s Psycho at the Castro theatre in San Francisco, I can attest there’s already gay subtext up the wazoo in the original and the gay community is fully aware of it.

The cast is comprised of stalwarts from the independent film world circa the mid-1990s including Julianne Moore, Phillip Baker Hall, James LeGross, William H. Macy and Robert Forrester, how the hell Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Eric Stoltz didn’t end up in this is a mystery that still confounds. Out of every cast member, only one actually improves on his 1960 counterpart, Viggo Mortenson. His Sam Loomis is more sexy and smoldering (and I am a straight guy) and sports a devil may care attitude and Southern drawl, a vastly superior take on the role than John Gavin’s everyman good guy. Anne Heche, who was at the height of her fame during shooting as the world’s second most famous lesbian (FYI, for those of who aren’t aware, Heather Graham’s conniving sleep-her-way-to-the-top character in Bowfinger is a veiled version of Ms. Heche), is downright awful here. The original Joseph Stefano script and dialogue is reused here, and most of the actors struggle with bringing the lines to life. What may sound natural in the 60’s doesn't naturally read thirty-eight years later, and Heche struggles most of all in this department. But just as damaging is her smaller, skinnier frame, quirky clothing and haircut that make her come across as a pixyish co-ed, not anything like the fully formed woman that Janet Leigh brought to the role.

In 2011 it’s hard to remember, but post Swingers, a svelte Vince Vaughn actually was trying his hands at some serious roles, not just playing the same smooth talking man-child with a frat boy sensibility in numerous comedies. He worked with Steven Spielberg, and played darker characters like the serial killer in Clay Pigeons. So while it’s hard to imagine today anyone remaking Psycho casting him as Norman Bates, it was where his career was headed at the time. Vaughn looks taller and is more masculine and menacing than Anthony Perkins, but instead of attributing the physical change to a different take, he pretty much replicates Perkins’ line delivery, ticks and gesticulations. As they say, you can’t improve on the Mona Lisa, and there’s no way that anyone can embody the character of Norman Bates like Perkins did. If you’re going to try, then bring something new to the table, besides a very calculating and unnatural nervous laugh at least. The parlor scene between Norman and Marion is for me the highlight of the original film. It’s the only scene featuring any extended interaction between Leigh and Perkins, and reveals so much about each character's past and possible futures, all while ominously framed between the watchful dead eyes of the stuff birds, victims of Norman’s taxidermy hobby. Here the scene is a resounding dud, it feels like a high school play production, and Heche and Vaughn seemingly admit to not being up to the challenge and speed through this scene (it’d be interesting to time each of these respected scenes to see if there’s truth to the rushed nature or not).

Twelve and a half years and 1,900 plus words later, I still find myself asking the same question I asked when I saw the film at the now defunct Tanforan Discount Theatre in January 1999 where it was on a double bill with I Still Know What You Did Last Summer as part of their unintentional “boy, mainstream American horror sucked in the late 90’s” programming, and that question is why? Why did Van Sant decide he was going to cash in all his chips on remaking a beloved film (pretty much) shot for shot? Was his intention to show that yesterday’s radical cinema is today’s kitsch? I know I spent much of this review comparing Van Sant and Hitchcock interpretations of the same material, but how could you not? Ultimately I’ve come to the conclusion that this was all just an experiment on Van Sant’s part, maybe not even knowing what the end result would be himself. Sure, the film is pretty much a failure on most levels save for the contributions of Mortenson and Doyle, but as the film concludes with a sincere thank you to Alfred Hitchcock, I thought to myself, you know what, Hitch himself would probably dig the balls Van Sant displayed helming this project. Remember the legendary director was prone to make certain films solely for technical peculiarities himself such as shooting in 3-D (Dial M for Murder) or continuous invisibly edited shots (Rope) and even remade one of his own films (The Man Who Knew Too Much). After all the dust has settled and time has passed, I guess I can respect it on that level, even if I still don’t actually enjoy it. At least it saved us from a Platinum Dunes’ version.

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

Serving as both a sequel and prequel to the original Psycho (and it’s two “official” sequels), Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990, Mick Garris) is indicative of a trend that started popping up in the late 80s through mid-90’s where long standing horror franchise were coming to the realization that as the millennium was coming to a close, most likely, so were they. Henceforth, in a storyline that encompassed both Halloween 5 (1989) and Halloween 6 (1995), Michael Meyers was revealed to be under the control of some kind of druid cult; in Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991) it’s unveiled that three demonic trolls allowed Freddy Krueger satanic squatter’s rights to terrorize the dreams of teenagers and making him impervious to any real world death, save of course being pulled out of the real world via his anaglyph 3-D glasses wearing daughter; and last and perhaps least in Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday (1993), we learn that Jason Voorhees heart possesses all of his strength and that it can be transmitted person to person a la a poor The Hidden rip-off. Psycho IV: The Beginning would be the last Anthony Perkins starring entry in the series, and the first to eschew theatres, premiering on pay cable channel Showtime on November 10th, 1990, four years after Psycho III’s theatrical release (my review). Bates Motel (my review) which began as a potential pilot for a new series also was made for television; however the events in that film are completely ignored, much as it ignored the two sequels.

Norman Bates has been rehabilitated since the events of Psycho III, or at least in the eyes of the extremely lenient Fruitvale judicial system which lets a multiple murderer off after serving less than half a decade behind jail. He’s now living in suburbia and is married. One night during a radio call-in show where the host (CCH Pounder) is interviewing his old psychiatrist, Norman anonymously phones in and relates the story of his past, told via flashback, and this present day quandary: his wife against his will, has become pregnant with his child. Is his child destined to the same fate of a life of cross dressing, peeping tom foolery and murdering? And if that’s even a remote possibility, doesn’t Norman owe it to any potential future victims to kill his wife and unborn child!

Helmed by director Mick Garris, who I like to refer to as the horror genre’s Zelig (of Forrest Gump if that’s a more recognizable reference to you) in that he has asserted himself into relationships with many of the greats of the genre, but without a quality input to match his famous friends. He has a tremendously strong relationship with Stephen King, having directed five of the author’s film adaptations, as a college student he hosted a cable access show wherein he conducted a round table interview with many of the modern day horror greats: David Cronenberg, John Landis (who has a cameo as the radio show's producer), and John Carpenter (I posted those clips back in October here), and he hosts an annual Masters of Horror dinner which unites horror film directors of all ages and actually turned those meetings into a Showtime aired anthology show called Masters of Horror which gave work to some filmmakers who had fallen out of flavor in Hollywood such as Joe Dante, Landis and Carpenter. His enthusiasm is appreciated and from all accounts he’s a hell of a nice guy. But here’s the thing, he’s not a good filmmaker in his own right. His films lack a voice or vision and his relationship usually clouds his decision making. Garris is the guy you call when you want a fidelitious remake of The Shining to course correct that meddling madman Stanley Kubrick (King’s opinion, not mine, it was my # 2 film of 1980). For example: I’ve only seen five of the Master of Horror episodes, but amongst the ones I did see include the worst films of both Joe Dante and John Carpenter’s careers.

Whether it’s the result of the script written by Joseph Stefano (screenwriter of the original) or Garris himself, Psycho IV, even though starring Perkins can’t help but feel like fan-fiction. There’s a litany of visual shots, plot devices and dialogue from Hitchcock’s original sprinkled throughout commenting on nothing, just gentle, “hey remember the original?” fan service. So we get another car sinking into the marsh, another peep hole, and, yes, Norman tells the talk show host that a boy’s best friend is, get this, his mother (a bit of catchphrase issue I’ve always have had with sequels, do people in really life always remember that one clever thing they said that one time, like “yippee ki-yay-motherfucker” and repeat them socially ad naseum? If you were friends with that person, wouldn’t that annoy you? Psycho IV reaches so far in the well that they trudge up the “trusty umbrella” line) and the answer is yes, I do remember the original, and I should probably be watching it instead of part IV. Contrast with what Richard Franklin did with part II (my review); Franklin who was literally a student of Hitchcock also referenced images from the original but to perversely play with our perceptions. Credit should be given to Garris and cinematographer Rodney Charter, the film may feel like a made-for-cable enterprise in structure and scope, but thanks to the use of anamorphic framing and a keen eye, it at least looks like cinema.

After my main complaint in my Psycho III review being the sense of routine in Perkins’ performance, it was nice seeing Perkins looking so well so close to his death from AIDS here, that it is hard for me to objectively critique it. Though I will say that he doesn’t have much to do, he’s limited to one set for the first two Acts and mostly talks on the phone in those scenes, before finally making his way back to the scene of the crimes in the film’s finale. Henry Thomas, the lead of another iconic Universal film, plays Norman as a teenager, sexually confused and obsessed with his mother Norma, a still great looking Olivia Hussey, and, frankly can you blame him? Due to the structure of the film: intercutting the telephone conversation between Norman and the talk show host with non-linear flashbacks, neither Thomas or Hussey ever get their performances into any sort of rhythm and they come across as the basest one note of their character—domineering, unstable and needy for Hussey; nervous and timid for Thomas.

Psycho IV again displays the major fallacy of “prequels”: backstory does not result in compelling storytelling. The one interesting aspect that the film raises is the question of nature versus nurture in terms of Bates’ insecurities that his psychological issues will be passed down to his child, although the film stacks the deck against any chance of ambiguity by having Norma be such a crazed (psycho, if you will) unrelatable individual that it’s highly unlikely unless Norman’s wife forces his child to dress in transgendered clothing and locks him/her in the closet for hours on end there will be any repercussions. It also weakens Norman’s character and gives a lame simple prognosis to what should be a much more complex and ambiguous character.

This would be the last time Perkins ever swallowed candy corn on screen, as he sadly passed away in 1992 at the age of sixty. Although he acted in numerous films and plays and had a career as a recording artist (a field his son took up), his obituaries always started and ended with Norman Bates, ironic considering that he was cast against type originally.

Next up: Gus Van Sant, you’ve just had your first huge financial and critically lauded Academy Award nominated success, what are you going to do next? Wait…what?

Under New Management

With the Norman Bates saga effectively concluded (or at least seemingly) with Bates’ return to institutionalization at the end of Psycho III, Universal decided to take the Psycho series to television bringing only the original film and the famous locales along. Riding a wave of a nostalgic return to genre anthology series, by this point the Steven Spielberg produced Amazing Stories was on the air as were new incarnations of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Twilight Zone and other franchises such as Friday the 13^th (in name only) and A Nightmare on Elm Street were in the works, writer-director Richard Rothstein, who had written and produced the HBO anthology series The Hitch-Hiker, was tasked with using the infamous house and hotel for what was formulated to be a weekly series focusing on the strange occurrences surrounding guests of the Bates Motel. A two-hour pilot was commissioned focusing on the new owner and the renovation as well as an incident that would also serve as a template for future episodes. NBC did not pick up the series and instead ran the pilot as a movie of the week on July 5^th, 1987.

Completely eschewing the events of both sequels, Bates Motel introduces us to Alex West played by the perpetually youthful (the guy looked like he aged about 5 years between this and 1971’s Harold and Maude) and nervous Bud Cort, who as a child murdered his abusive step-father. In the sanitarium a kindly doctor (Robert Picardo) teams the troubled soul with Norman Bates, another youthful and nervous patient (played by Anthony Perkins’ stand-in on the first three films Kurt Paul) and they form a tight bond that provides redemption for Bates and a positive father figure for Alex. After Bates dies he bequeaths his inheritance, the Bates house and motel to Alex who moves to the town of Fruitvale after being declared sane and in tribute to his deceased friend restores it. But as the motel is going through its renovation spooky arbiters of potential doom begin happening: the skeletons of the paternal Bates appear, the vacancy sign turns on and off by itself and a familiar silhouette beings popping up. Is the house haunted by spirits angry that West is starting a new legacy? Or do they just really hate the new gaudy Southwestern décor? Or perhaps there’s some reasonable explanation that will reveal the work of someone who ain’t a fan of no meddling kids a la Scooby Doo? Furthermore, what happens to the first guest, a suicidal middle aged woman (Kerrie Keane), to stay at the new Bates Motel?

As you can probably surmise by the complicated plot summary, one of the major problems with Rothstein’s film is that it tries to be too much coupled with a lack of any sense of tone. When a filmmaker can mix disparate styles and moods seamlessly, it’s a thing of beauty. Quentin Tarantino, Martin Scorsese, David Cronenberg, and hey, Alfred Hitchcock are some of the filmmakers that come immediately to my mind as being particularly adept at combining suspense, comedy, drama, violence, or what have you. Rothstein is nowhere near them. So the humor is met with a thud, it’s never really scary or suspenseful and when attempts are made at ethereal experiences, it’s just confusing since they function as a supposed guidance to one character, but are visible and active in the real world as well.

The fatal flaw though is the fumbled manner in which Rothstein attempts to shoehorn the suicidal woman’s storyline with the rest of the arc. After about one hour of the ninety minutes long show (that’s the length sans commercial), the story then focuses on the woman as she meets specters of teenage suicide victims (which includes Khrystyne Haje, Simone from Head of the Class, and Jason Bateman); besides confusing matters when these alleged spirits also interact with the hotel operators, the main problem is it becomes the focus of the story for 20 minutes completely ignoring the West storyline until it’s finally brought back for the final ten minutes. I realize the function of an anthology series is that each week a new character is introduced, but here the narrative flow is completely ruined. And speaking of the resolution to the Alex West storyline which I hinted at a few paragraphs above, for a film that eradicates Psycho II from existence, it sure is okay stealing that film’s major storyline of whether Mother has returned or someone with cruel intent is mimicking her to scare the unsteady protagonist.

Bates Motel is very much a mid-1980s TV movie of the week, so it’s hard to hold director Richard Rothstein to the standards of Alfred Hitchcock, Richard Franklin, or even Tony Perkins, but his inability to balance tone and the strange narrative late turn reflect poorly on the enterprise. The style of the Bates Motel, including the awful remodel, look nothing like the original film. I thought one of Psycho II’s strength was the production design and art direction that did a wonderful job of establishing the transition of the Bates house and motel into color. Bud Cort and Clark Gregg are solid if unspectacular in roles that conform to their strengths so much that little effort was probably involved. Lori Petty as the overall perky tomboy, who may have been West’s love interest if the show went to series, is grating, but I am willing to accept that’s due more to the written character than to Petty’s performance.

Bates Motel received middling ratings and evaporated from the public consciousness (I had actually recorded and watched it on VHS back in 1987—the height of my Psycho love--but completely forgot of its existence until scanning the Psycho Legacy website) but television wasn’t done with Norman entirely yet. Anthony Perkins’ swan song to horror’s most famous contemporary character would follow.

Mother's Off Her Rocker Again

After the critical and financial success of 1983’s Psycho II, and amidst the 80’s slasher movie boom, Universal wanted to continue the Bates family franchise. Anthony Perkins seeing an opportunity pulled a Leonard Nimoy and said, “Of course I’ll return for my third go-round as Norman Bates, but what I really want to do is direct…” The resulting film, Psycho III is a well made and solid thriller, but is another example of a sequel's diminishing returns, and while Perkins exerts himself nicely behind the camera, his performance as Norman Bates starts to whiff toward parody.

What was so clever about the Richard Franklin directed and Tom Holland scripted sequel was that it was obviously framed as a mystery as opposed to the original in which we do not realize we are watching a mystery until the final reveal. Bate actually does not kill anyone at all in Psycho II until the final scene which pulled a Halloween II by trying to add a twist to the original’s mythology in having Bates’ waitress co-worker actually be revealed to by his duh duh dun REAL MOTHER. Apparently, Perkins and writer Charles Edward Pough thought the Miss Spool being Norman's mom thing was idiotic too, and it’s revealed that Spool was delusional and is of no relation to Norman, and for that all she gets is a shovel to the dome. In Psycho III there is never any questions that Norm is back fighting his demons, putting his mom's best Sunday dress on and dispatching his female motel guests with a large knife. I guess all it took to go back to his hacking ways was the addition of a physical representation, Ms. Pool's taxidermyed corpse in this case.

A strong supporting cast includes Academy Award nominee Diana Scarwid as Maureen Coyle (note the familiar initials) a nun with a lapse of faith who escapes her flock after a suicide attempt leads to the death of one of her sisters. Her character and Scarwid's fine shattered performance provides the film its strongest component: a relationship between two tortured souls, Norman and the nun, who in one of cinema's greatest meet cutes scene form a relationship when Norman, dressed to kill as his mother, finds Maureen lying in a blood filled tub, post-suicide attempt. There's a tenderness to the relationship and the tragic undercurrents that is handled well by both actors. The rest of the cast is comprised of Jeff Fahey as a ladies' man and wannabe rocker who becomes hired at the motel, and begins to take advantage of Norman when he learns some of his secrets. Jeff Fahey does a brazeningly admirable job at attempting to out-scuzz Dennis Franz's manager from part II. Roberta Maxwell is Tracy Venable, the intrepid journalist who will not leave Norman alone to the chagrin of the townspeople and investigates the disappearance of Ms. Spool, she's basically the Arbogast of the film.

If there's one major weakness amongst the cast it's, surprisingly enough, Perkins himself, who seems to be going through the motion. Exaggerating his already stammering delivery to nearly satirical levels (and remember Perkins' already provided a real parody of Bates on a Saturday Night Live sketch by this point), Perkins' interest here seem to lie more with the directorial side of things. In that aspect, he's holds himself fine. Along with cinematographer Bruce Surtees, who worked on numerous Clint Eastwood starring films in the 1970s, widescreen framing is utilized throughout and the well designed look of the prior film which had to establish the Bates house and motel for color, is faithfully duplicated. There's a few too many callbacks to shots from the original film, something that Part II did frequently but more subtly, but for the most part, the film is it's own beast.

Universal released the film in the summer of 1986, and unlike the well received first sequel which did solid box office, it performed more like a slasher film, making the majority of it's money in the first weekend and only making half of the gross of part II. The film's major tragic dramatic moment is offset by a winking final shot that, surprise surprise, mimics the first film's final shot. This was apparently added after initial shooting for one final jolt, but it kind of perfectly reveals Universal's intention for the film, nothing like the adult drama with suspenseful elements and strong thematic drive of the pains of recovery that part II was. Psycho III is solid enough (I've probably have used the word "solid" 18 times at this point), and does tower over many of the slasher films from that particular era (by that I mean specifically the mid-1980's), but the potential was there for a more mature and ultimately, better film. We'd return to the Bates Motel soon after, but this time not in a theatrical release, but on television. But where is Norman? If you don't know what I am talking about, look for the next Psycho series review, coming soon.

It's Starting Again

Being but a wee lad of seven years in 1983, I am unaware of the pre-release reputation of Psycho II. Was it anticipated with the same fervor and hand wringing that Gus Van Sant’s 1998 “shot for shot” remake netted? Or was that remake’s antagonistic greeting actually exaggerated due to the internet and the voices that tend to yell the loudest? Whether viewers had trepidation or not for the first (and to this point only, not counting other Psycho films) theatrically released direct sequel to an Alfred Hitchcock film, skeptics’ mind should have been put to rest when Richard Franklin was named director. Franklin, a USC graduate, career took off in the Australian exploitation market where he crafted such thrillers as Patrick and Road Games. He was a devoted follower of Hitchcock, and also a friend to him. Anyone who was afraid that the Psycho franchise was resurrected only to cash in on the then current (early 80’s) slasher craze, which of course Psycho was a progenitor of, would have their fears assuaged with the final product. Along with Franklin, screenwriter Tom Holland (Fright Night, Child’s Play) crafted a respectful continuation of the Norman Bates chronicles that both pays homage to the original film while working on its own terms.

Opening with the Hitchcock film’s most famous scene: Marion Crane’s shower and murder, serves several functions for Psycho II: it gives a pre-video proliferate age viewer another glimpse at the scene; an admittance on Franklin’s part of what he’s trying to live up to; and most importantly, a plot device, namely the impetus for the sanity hearing of Norman Bates that opens the film proper, with Marion’s sister, Lila Loomis (Vera Miles returning), yes she went and married her sister’s old boyfriend, in attendance. As the shower scene ends on the exterior of the Bates Motel, the black and white morphs into color, a subtle way of implying that this film will not necessarily be a paint by numbers replication of the original.

Whereas as Psycho was viewed by Hitchcock in 1960 as an attempt to get away from extravagantly budgeted works such as North by Northwest and Vertigo by quickly and cheaply shooting with his Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ television crew, Franklin’s film is of a larger scale, and both in color and widescreen. Bernard Hermann’s wonderful bracing score, though occasionally referenced, is replaced by Jerry Goldsmith’s more ethereal and melancholic orchestral music. Dean Cundey, who shot Halloween, is the cinematographer, and while more than a few of the compositions are a direct callback to the original, he too, gives the sequel its own visual identity, the stark black and white contrast is replaced with a muted color palette. Here, we get our first look at the Bates’ house in full color and Franklin, Cundey and the production designers all do a great job of creating a lived in feel with just the right choices of clothing, linens, and other minor, yet well considered, details.

Completely ignoring the novel of the same name written by original novel author, Robert Bloch (which sounds awesome by the way), Psycho II is impeccably crafted by underrated writer Holland. After Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins, duh) is found fit to be released, he enters society again after 22 years, literally returning to the scene of the crime where his family's motel is now a low rent locale for prostitution, drug use and other maleficences and his house is now a respite for teenagers looking for a place to fuck. Bates gets a job at a local diner where he meets a waitress in a troubled relationship with the familiar sounding name of Mary Samuels (Marie Samuels was the alias that Marion Crane signed in the Bates motel's ledger) and forms his first human relationship in a long time. Shortly though, things start to turn strange, Bates is receiving phone calls and messages from his "mother" that threaten his already tenuous sanity, and people who come in contact with him begin dying, starting with Bates Motel's sleazy extracted manager (played by Dennis Franz in the type of role he perfected throughout the 1980's). Who's responsible: is it Lila trying to get Bates back behind bars? Mary Samuels who is actually Lila's daughter acting on her mother's behalf? Or is Norman Bates losing his mind again? Could mother possibly be returning?

Psycho II is constructed as a mystery, but it's also a really empathetic portrait of a man trying to come to grips with his past while struggling with the present. Anthony Perkins is not the subtlest of actors, but he's perfect as Norman Bates, constantly fidgeting and uncomfortable in his skin in the first film, he's shaky and unsure of himself here. The twenty-two years added wrinkles and lines to his face, but made him more distinguished and less like the teen heartthrob he was pre-1960. In Psycho we don't realize he's the killer because he's the nervous boy next door, here we don't believe he can kill because he looks like our uncle. Meg Tilly gives an impressive performance as Mary Samuels, who is first used as a decoy for her mother's attempt to get Bates back behind bars, but comes to generally care and sympathize with Norman, she too can understand being pushed around by a manipulative mother. In Psycho, Bates compensates for sexual desires by stabbing Marion to death, here he shies away from a possible loving relationship by allowing himself to be duped into believing his mother has returned.

The film does have a few nitpick worthy moments, including awkwardly getting a knife in Norman's hand early, but most are necessary evils of advancing the story or keeping the mystery, and are easily forgivable. I am also not crazy about the "twist" reveal that concludes the movie, it reminded me a lot of the Halloween II twist, which was also a Universal Picture. However, even that is worth it for a certain moment involving a shovel.

While impossible to live up to the masterpiece that the original film is (though Quentin Tarantino actually prefers the sequel), Psycho II is a respectful tribute to Hitchcock's movie which toys with audiences expectations to provide some surprises of its own while exploring themes of recovery from scars of the past and providing a very sympathetic portrait of Norman Bates. Psycho II opened on June 3rd, 1983, where it debut just below Return of the Jedi at the box office for the weekend. It was a solid commercial and critical success, prompting another trip to the Bates Motel three years later.

Happy 50th Birthday, Psycho

"What is your favorite all-time movie"

Depending on their disposition, I imagine most cinephiles hate this question.

At least I do. Hell, if you made me pick my favorite films by my favorite directors like Sergio Leone, Quentin Tarantino, or Howard Hawks, I don't know if I would answer the question to the asker, or really, my, satisfaction. Don't believe me, ask me what my favorite Leone film is. Go ahead, do it.

I am waiting...

Okay, I heard you. Yeah, that's an easy answer: Once Upon a Time in the West. It's his most epic, purely cinematic, emotionally layered and a culmination of a career lovingly dissecting his beloved Western genre into a distinct personal style. Yep, Once Upon a Time in the West is Leone's best film. Yep. Well, of course The Good, The Bad and the Ugly is also a masterpiece: hilarious, action packed and the Ecstasy of the Gold portion is one of, if not, the best sequence in cinema history. So yeah, Once Upon a Time in the West and The Good, The Bad and the Ugly are tied. But you know, For a Few Dollars More is also incredible, and I did name this blog after a character from it . Of course A Fistful of Dollars jump started not only his own career but the whole Italian film industry....and though flawed (a bit long, weird flashbacks and Rod Steiger, though good, in brown face and imitating Eli Wallach as Tucco) Duck, You Sucker is underrated and his most politically charged film. Wait, what was the question, again?

With all that said, since I saw it first at the age of 10, my answer to "What is your favorite all-time movie" has been: Psycho.


Is that actually true? I don't know, honestly. I am not even sure if it's really my favorite Hitchcock film, Vertigo would probably be the victor if I had to make an analytical assessment. But Psycho is definitely the film that has had the greatest impact on my life and love of cinema. It was the first film where I was aware of who the director was and what he did, it was one of the first non-Wizard of Oz or Three Stooges black and white films I watched, and more personally, my father used to sometime tell me plots to horror films as a sort ghost/bedtime story-ish ritual including Psycho (Halloween was another favorite), probably spurred from my first visits to Universal Studios so it has been a part of my life since before even seeing it, as it's twists and turns were lovingly told to a burgeoning horror fan to young to see the film for himself by his proud father.

Regardless of my personal affection, I'm hard pressed to name a film that has had as much influence on cinema period in the last 50 years as Psycho. The slasher and a huge chunk of the Italian giallo genres owe their very existence to the ground Hitchcock and crew laid. Even the way we watch movies we're forever changed when theatres were told to insist that no one would be admitted to the theatre once the film had started. Directing. Screenplay. Editing, Acting, Music, Cinematography, it's hard to not find an aspect that Psycho does not excel at nor whose style has been emulated.

To celebrate it's long tenure as my favorite film, I am going to do a film retrospective of all the Psycho sequels (and yes, I'll give ol' Van Sant's remake a second chance) similar to my highly celebrated (as in 6 reviews and no comments) Death Wish series. I will not be reviewing the original, it's a film that I have too much of a connection with to offer anything more compelling than "gee, wasn't that part awesome?"

Look for the first review, Psycho II, in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime here are some older Psycho related articles from the Colonel Mortimer archives:

24 Frames: Psycho
Posterized: The Psycho series
Trailer of the Moment: Alfred Hitchcock gives us a tour of the Bates Motel

24 Frames: Psycho

First things first, I have to give "propers" to the blogsite Moon in the Gutter and it's author Jeremy Richey, the hardest work film blogger in show business. His feature Images From My Favorite Film inspired this new feature, 24 Frames. To he, who is taking the month off, I say thank you.

The origin of the feature's title is derived from the fact that in projected film, 24 frames equals one second of screen time. To kick off the feature, let's stick with the Psycho theme that started the first week of Horror Month.

For over twenty years I've been using Psycho as my ad hoc answer whenever someone asks me to name my favorite film of all-time. Is it still? Honestly, I don't know, I am not the fervent list maker some of my fellow cinephiles are. What I do know is that since I was a very young age, I have loved it, it was one of the first black and white films I ever saw (not counting Wizard of Oz), it was one of the first horror classics I saw and it was the first film where I was aware of the presence of a filmmaker.

I tried to limit the number of seminal images most people associate with Psycho here, but that proved to be a difficult task. There is a reason those shots have became classic and they still contain their potency. I could have done 24 frames of the shower sequence alone, the best example of the combination of flawless storyboarding, shot composition and editing used for maximum emotional and cinematic power. I hope you enjoy this feature and catch a few shots that you might not have noticed on your first few viewings of the film.

Here now is 24 frames or one second of Psycho (1960, Alfred Hitchcock. Cinematography by John L. Russell)

Posterized: The Psycho Series

Here are the posters for every film in the Psycho series, and since I am feeling generous, I will even include those for Gus Van Sant's much maligned, and I would say justifiably so, although I am tempted to give it another chance one of these days, 1998 remake.

Psycho (1960, Alfred Hitchcock)












Psycho II (1983, Richard Franklin)



Psycho III (1986, Anthony Perkins)


Psycho IV: The Beginning (1991, Mick Garris)


Psycho (1998, Gus Van Sant)