50 Years And A Remake Later: Psycho

Today Psycho turns 50.

And for those of us who revere the picture, this we know. It was a masterwork of modern filmmaking, black humor and transgressive art, and remains one of the most influential, disturbing and over-analyzed films of all time. Though perhaps considered somewhat tame by today's tiresome Saw standards, Hitchcock's picture was deeply shocking in its time. It still is. Not only did it break convention by killing off its star character less than midway through the picture, it showed filmgoers more violence, sexual tension and perversion (and the bathroom -- the bathroom is so wonderfully sexy and sick here), than they had ever seen in a mainstream picture. For those who had never watched Michael Powell's Peeping Tom, or the films of Kenneth Anger, Psycho was a mind-altering event of mass emotion -- a film that aroused viewers through what Hitchcock famously called "pure cinema."

He thought of his audience first, but Hitchcock also intended Psycho to stimulate filmmakers. He asserted to director and Hitchcock scholar François Truffaut: "Psycho, more than any of my other pictures, is a film that belongs to filmmakers, to you and me." Would Hitchcock have included director Gus Van Sant in the esteemed company of Truffaut? Though purists shake their heads in disbelief, the answer is yes, of course he would.

A consummate showman, a risk taker, an artist, I think Hitchcock would have been amused/honored by Van Sant's vision, an undertaking that many deemed unthinkable. Hitchcock's Psycho, was such a technical, experimental triumph that it begged inspiration. So many movies were already inspired by or had copied Psycho, why shouldn't Van Sant go all the way --  nearly frame by frame?

Whatever his reasons, the picture Van Sant seemed to make as a middle finger to the studios ("I can make any film after Good Will Hunting? OK, I’ll make Psycho” ), his 1998 remake was not only one of his most daring experimental films (before his superb works like Gerry, Elephant and Last Days), but one of the most brilliantly audacious re-makes ever. In our current film climate of remake frenzy, boring remake frenzy, Psycho, 1998 is a revelation.

Like Hitchcock, Van Sant shrewdly attempted an experiment of technical trickery in the repackaging of Psycho for a 90s audience -- an audience stumbling into the theater, curious, annoyed or unknowing. Toying with viewer's notions of modern and classical filmmaking, Van Sant, like Hitchcock, ran the risk of offending an older audience schooled in the idea that certain things are just untouchable, and that any attempt of the new Psycho was vulgar. Vulgar? Psycho is vulgar. And yet, graceful and delicate and oddly tender too. Never mind that. Some nay-saying cinephiles seemed as stuffy as the 1960 film-goers who were mortally offended by the infidelity, transvestitism, and Oedipal deviance of the original Psycho.

From the Saul Bass opening-credit sequence to the Norman Bates close-up ending, Van Sant (and the excellent cinematographer Christopher Doyle) replicated Hitchcock's Psycho (both versions adapted from Robert Block's novel by Joseph Stefano) almost exactly -- scene by scene, similar story. Again, we have a woman named Marion (Anne Heche) running out of town with a bundle of stolen money. During a storm she stops at a creepy motel, chats with its creepy innkeeper, and is soon murdered by the freaky proprietor, Norman Bates (Vince Vaughn). A detective (William H. Macy in Martin Balsam's role) is hired to look for her, while Marion's married lover, Sam (Viggo Mortensen in John Gavin's role), and her sister, Lila (Julianne Moore in Vera Miles' role), anxiously await his call. When the detective disappears, the sister and the lover set out to find Marion themselves, only to discover that, yes indeed, Norman Bates keeps his dead mother preserved in the basement -- and that Marion is dead.

The story holds up, no question. But does the movie work? Yes. It works because by replicating the brilliant original picture (almost) shot by shot, line by line, and note by note (music by the great Bernard Hermann), the picture far excels most movies of late, particularly remakes (thank god Van Sant didn't add some stupid origin story), and is daringly avant-garde at the same time. Though the passage of time might change the picture's shock value --  modern eyes cannot feel the original's shocking impact of drains, showers and sexual role reversal -- it doesn't hamper the experience. Though closely identical, Psycho 1998 is a curious marvel that subtly alters the tone, the psychology and the movie experience. It deserves to be watched as more than just a lark.

The most significant changes come from the actors. Heche, who watched Janet Leigh's scenes before every take, duplicates Leigh's Marion down to details as precise as how she clasps her purse (Hitchcock really knew how to shoot/fetishize a purse -- see Marnie, Rear Window and The Birds) and how she moves her hips when she walks. Yet Heche exudes a ditsier quality than her sexier counterpart. Leigh created an impulsive creature, a troubled, unconventional (she's having an affair with a married man) but an ultimately kind woman. She's both mysterious and down to earth. And her empathy for Norman Bates makes her all the more intriguing and likable.

Heche's Marion seems simply flirty and slightly stupid. She's bolstered however, by her sister Lila, a tough gal who gives you the sense that she had watch out for Marion all her life. And Moore's Lila (with those Walkman headphones!) is even more pissed off than Miles' version. She is also appropriately brave, curious and horrified by the Bates household. And Macy in Balsam's role  -- well, there's nothing like Martin Balsam tumbling down the stairs -- but Macy is just fine.

The biggest and most controversial redo is the casting of Vaughn as Bates. Then, best known as the Lothario from Swingers (this is pre-Vaughn revival of the naughts) who spent most of the 90s miscast in films that didn't allow him to flex his genius comic ability, Vaughn gives us a fascinating twist. Perkins expertly played Bates as meek, effete and shy, but Vaughn is all boorish, masculine evil. Vaughn’s Bates is like the school bully who pulls wings off insects and shocks girls with sexual threats (which may account for one of the film's major missteps -- showing Bates masturbate to Marion, leaving out the sexual ambiguity of the original). Initially, Vaughn may seem too handsome for this sociopath (not that some psychos weren't lookers -- Bundy and Ramirez come to mind), but as the film rolls on, he becomes grotesque. With his huge forehead, icky laugh and deceptively normal manner, the character actor Vaughn becomes a master fake a la Ted Bundy.

And I never bought for a second that this Bates thinks he is "Mother." When he smiles at the camera in his last shot, he seems to be saying "the jokes on you" and we sense that he will, no doubt, escape from the institution -- like, again, Bundy who escaped, once.

While Vaughn's portrayal was a wise deviation (it would be hard to follow Perkins' exact footsteps), this is not a sympathetic performance, and the entire film remains a cold, shrewd exercise. Part of this coldness is a result of Van Sant's purposeful lack of auteurism (and yet Van Sant's style is there), which makes his Psycho much less the vanity project many critics accused him of. His version is truly an homage to Hitchcock and a celebration of experimental filmmaking.

Van Sant's Psycho makes one realize just how timeless, yet modern Hitchcock's film really was. Psycho 98 may be perverse, but quite obviously, Psycho is about perversion, and the power of cinema. After all these years, current movies can still be this beautifully crafted, still pace themselves at this speed (I love watching both Marions drive and drive and drive) and can still work as both ballyhoo and art. And 50 years later, I think Hitchcock would have appreciated such in-your-face audacity.

Comments

[John Jansen]

I know another thing Hitchcock would have loved about Van Sant's remake -- the opening shot. Hitchcock wanted it to be a single continuous take all the way to and inside the window. But based on the equipment of the day, he could never get it smooth enough and opted for the dissolves instead. Anyway, I had a big smile on my face when I saw that Van Sant had actually fulfilled a vision for the film with his opening shot that Hitchcock was never able to do.

By the time Van Sant's version came out in 1998, I had already seen the original at least 15-20 times. So to my surprise, watching Van Sant's version actually allowed me to see PSYCHO again -- and get a brand new viewing experience out ot it. Which for a fan of the original, was kind of a small gift in itself.

And believe me, I was pretty much alone on an island with this favorable opinion in 1998, so it's refreshing to read something positive on it all these years later.

--John Jansen/The Hollywood Saloon

[C. Jerry Kutner]

I thought Van Sant had a great *idea* for a film that was defeated by poor casting - namely, Heche and Vaughn. If only he'd gotten his first choices for the parts - Kidman and Di Caprio!

The point where the film really loses me is the used car lot sequence where Heche is frivolously twirling an orange parasol (as opposed to Leigh's performance in the same sequence where every word she speaks and every move she makes is informed by her guilt and fear of being found out).

[Tom Beshear]

Have you seen the museum installation "24-Hour Psycho"? The Hitchcock film is slowed down to a 24-hour running time and projected onto a screen in a darkened museum hall. It becomes dreamlike.

[Aerosimms]

An excellent restrospect on both the original and the remake. I saw the remake in the theater during its opening weekend and loved every painstakingly reproduced frame of it. Vaughn's portrayal was great in my opinion; he made Norman his own. BTW, JAWS turns 35 in three days-- I would LOVE to read your thoughts on that other timeless masterpiece...

[Chad Williamson]

People don't appreciate how of-the-moment "Psycho-98" is. Everyone in that movie was coming off of a then-career high; it's like a microcosm of "hot" actors at that exact moment. Some have slowly faded (Heche), others found new niches (Vaughn), others have steadily plugged along (Macy and Moore), and only one found his career grow bigger afterwards (Mortensen).

[David Herrington]

Interesting article. It shows that the Ms. Morgan is interested in a truly mediocre film. Poorly acted and and an unnecessary nearly shot-for-shot remake show a true lack of inspiration and creativity from the director. It's the equivalent of directorial masturbation, with the purpose of only pleasuring one person: Gus Van Sant.

[MichaelRyerson]

I believe Loomis was divorced. Did Van Sant change this?

[Anthony]

Great, great post. I watched this (this = 1998's version) last night, because of your blogging about it, for the first time in years: I think Psycho-98's more about our relationship to both films than it is about any one character or theme. We know and quote the dialogue and recall the particulars of the scenery before it's presented to us in Van Sant's version, so any deviance or shift in accent startles us; at the same time, V.S. has made a film more about external horror (versus the 'there is both evil and good in all of us' theme of Psycho-60) which matches the way our expectations are foiled and we're confronted with what is still a dread-filled and unsettling portrait of a certain time/place.

One thing: the scene through the peephole doesn't just erase any kind of sexual ambiguity. It avoids it. If that distinction makes sense.

When Norman, erm, releases himself to a through-the-wall view of Marion, he's, in some ways that aren't terribly substantial, sated. The fact another side of his personality (the mother) then goes on and does some intra-bathroom stabbing says more about that female side of his brain than it does about his entire character.

In the original, when Anthony Perkins looked on at his guest in her black-means-evil brasserie, we got the sense there was both desire and repression -- the urge to rush in and take her, and the restraint that made him so unhappy and thoroughly awkward.

When Vince Vaughan 'finishes,' the fact he goes on and kills anyway isn't as convincing, unless you focus on the Mrs. Bates-side of his personality punishing Norman for acting (however alone), instead of for desiring. This introduces a whole set of parameters the original avoided: mainly that Bates' mind isn't his own in the way any kind of attacking, external agent isn't part of the system it attacks. The original was glorious in the way it made us see how Norman wanted to be taken over by his mother, not just doing it unwillingly. (Like the great clean-up scene; like the great pleasure his, A. Perkins', faces takes on when he finds Lila in the fruit cellar.)

Again: this makes the whole Van Sant-directed aspect of evil approaching (instead of evil inhabiting) more sinister, which is good because it speaks more to its own themes than it does to the original's. All this is probably why Marion, gutted in the tub, is less punished for her sins than confronted by the truth about her existence: it's fickle and cruel and her theft is as arbitrary as her death.

Point is: I like your blog.

[RvonB]

I'm still unconvinced. Heche was good, and Moore was even better--I like the gesture of her listening to the Germs on headphones, and she updates things by giving a look that says she's heard of Bates' kind of mania before. You're right that the masturbation update was a bad idea. This film strikes me more as a commercial experiment than an artistic one: the dialogue seemed anachronistic against the modern settings (like if you played Finding Forrester in knee-breeches and powdered wigs), and ultimately the whole mess was made just because today's kids can't handle black and white.

[brainypirate]

Thanks for defending a much-misunderstood film, and for pointing out how much better it is than the plentiful "re-imaginings" that have followed it.

One thing I've never seen anyone mention is how the re-make reveals just how dated the original is. The voices in Heche's head as she drives, the close-up of the money on the cabinet, etc.--these things were laughable in the remake, because the cinematic vocabulary has changed. But for some reason, they don't bother us in the original, because we accept Hitchcock's film as part of a different era.

All of which raises a fascinating question about the relationship between film conventions and viewers from later periods: How is it that we accept narrative and visual devices in old movies that would make us groan in new films?

[don r. lewis]

Disagree completely, Kim. The film fails because Van Sant took ALL ambiguity out of the original (which you allude to when you mention the misstep of having Vaughn actually masturbating rather than the implication he is)which completely destroys the power held in the original.

Seeing bright red blood go down the drain makes that scene bland, obvious and on-the-nose rather than eerily creepy as it is in the original black and white. Seeing Heche's bare ass lying on the side of the tub does the same. Granted, societal norms dictate what Hitch could and couldn't show, but letting the AUDIENCE fill in the blanks is what makes the original so compelling.

I like how you mention that Van Sant's cold and mechanical choice to remake the film shot for shot adds to the detached and creepy feeling of the film. This all dovetails nicely into his death trilogy which utilizes the same detached, mechanical shooting style. I just feel the PSYCHO reamake was trite, silly and in many ways takes away from the original due to the colorization and insistence on exposing the subtext of the film.

[Tony Dayoub]

David H. says: "Poorly acted and and an unnecessary nearly shot-for-shot remake show a true lack of inspiration and creativity from the director. It's the equivalent of directorial masturbation, with the purpose of only pleasuring one person: Gus Van Sant."

This commenter is wrong of course. As the comment thread illustrates, the film "pleasures" more viewers than just Van Sant. Besides, I'm not sure Van Sant is aiming for entertainment. However, "inspiration and creativity" abound in what is essentially as much a film for filmmakers as Hitch's original is in the lessons it imparts.

What this experiment demonstrates is how much latitude a filmmaker still has in setting a different tone, eliciting different performances, etc., even under the constraints of duplicating a well known classic shot-for-shot. Moore's portrayal of Lila as a lesbian is the most obvious example.

I suppose even the inventive Michael Haneke is going for something similar in moving his FUNNY GAMES to America for the shot-to-shot remake. He even has a leg up on Van Sant because he has the advantage of revisiting his own earlier film. But he fails in one respect. The moral repugnancy of its subject matter is so overpowering, it precludes one from approaching the material with any kind of dispassionate eye. FUNNY GAMES still sits only half-watched on my DVR.