By the late-50s, Paramount Studios was desperate, though not nearly as much as their rapidly-aging contract director, Alfred Hitchcock. The Brit had hit a rough streak. Years priorhe had been bestedby his French counterpart, Henri-Georges Clouseau, missing out on the bidding rights for a French suspense novel that would become the classic thrillerDiabolique. For a time in the late-50s, it was the upstart Clouseau who was arguably the master of the horror genre, not Hitchcock.
1960s was a time of extreme stress and introspection for a director experiencing rejection for the first time in decades. He believed he found his salvation in the 1959 Robert Bloch novelPsycho. He built up a hype machine that whipped audiences into a state of morbid curiosity, promising an ending so stupendous that it would be protected at all costs, and that “any spurious attempts to enter by side doors, fire escapes, or ventilating shafts will be met by force” (viaThe Psycho File).
Psychois still regarded as oneHitchcock’s best movies, and a highlight of both main stars' long careers. Yet, those within the boardrooms of Paramount had intimated to him in polite terms that his career was winding down, and would be better off just sticking to making weekly TV shows. This following what had been his most interesting, albeit quite unprofitable, films in the latter half of the 50s. Hollywood had lost its faith in the British auteur. It would cost them.
Past His Prime?
Regardless of a career spanning all the way back tothe silent era, by 1959, Hitchcock was struggling to get any interest. The now highly veneratedVertigolabored to break even upon release. Once more, he offered Paramount a piece of his new movie. After two earlier projects fell through, then-distributor Paramount discouraged him from pursuing his newest project at every single opportunity, only relenting when he accepted humiliating terms. Paramount was so dismissive of the film they passed on it, the film to be produced by Hitchcock’s Shamley Productions instead, the legal rights residing with Hitchcock. Thusly, he was deprived access to the Paramount sets, forced to film it on the rival Universal lot (Revue Studios) where his TV show was filmed. The stinker that bewildered them so much was calledPsycho. You’ve probably heard of it.
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With the benefit of hindsight, it might look insane, but Paramount had their reasons. On paper, the script was nothing special, and they demonstrated no interest in a slasher, which they deemed too low-brow and unmarketable. The British director immediately saw potential and took extreme counter-measures to prevent anyone from leaking the ending (and so are we for that matter). In fear of big mouths at the studio leaking the whole crux of the film, the ending, he denied them so much as apeek at the final script.
Evidently, interest was too minute for anyone to bother to ask either. According to legend, he bought every single copy he could find of the source novel to prevent the ending being made know publicly. Safe to say, he had some trust issues. But who better to film a suspense novel? Hitchcock’s paranoia was so immense it was now threatening to bankrupt him and ruin his career.
Far from Technicolor
Signing Janet Leigh and Anthony Perkins for the two juicy roles, the whole film was shot in under three months. Though even this simple matter was subverted, as evident to anyone who has seen the film. Incidentally, the famous midriff from the iconic scene actually belongs to a model named Marli Renfro, not Leigh. Forced to film in black and white, with his own TV crew (fromAlfred Hitchcock Presents) in tow for monetary reasons, the film was made at his own peril, financed with $800,000 of his own life savings. In exchange for giving up his up-front salary he would receive a very large long-term percentage. Paramount had little to lose. This turned out to be one of the dumbest blunders in movie history.
It was not without its shortcomings. Hitchcock ordered a rewrite after initial drafts played out with the pacing of a TV show stretched out to feature-length, a flaw which is still present in the final draft of the script, notable for its languid second act. By necessity, the film had to introduce and build up new characters who weren’t nearly as intriguing as the ones we just met in the first 40 minutes, going against the conventions of traditional storytelling, in order to “play” the audience, as he described it to fellow director Francois Truffaut. Pacing aside, the film’s score and artistic flourishes maintain a professional-level sheen that few other films of the time could hope to match.
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Still, it was an upward climb. And on top of that, he showed his lead actress in a bra.Horror films were often bannedin many countries, but to combine voyeuristic themes and near nudity was a serious toss of the dice in 1960. There was no R-rating. You either got approved by censors or you didn’t get shown in theaters, and choosing Ed Gein as your inspiration did not bode well. But considering the subject, there wasn’t much point in trying to be overly modest. You couldn’t conceive of a more public-unfriendly course than the one Hitchcock was plotting.
Defying the Odds
In retrospect, the restrained camera work, black-and-white photography, “California Gothic” set design, and emphasis on a few key locations greatly benefitedPsycho, and fit the tone better than many of his glossier, high-budget (and less daring) films.North by NorthwestandMarniemay be entertaining films in their own right, but are marred by some pretty cheesy special effects that have aged them terribly.
Sadly, toPsycho’s great detriment, he was likely coerced to slip in the final scene wherein the whole of the plot was summarized and explained like a Blu-ray director’s commentary. Though this saps the film of some of its rawness and intrigue, Hitchcock infused enough memorable scenes to hook audiences for half a century since — some of which did not feature Leigh in various states of undress, that is.
Based on his dislike of psychoanalysis, we can take some solace that Hitchcock probably hated the ending even more than we do, or so we hope. A couple of sequels would follow, all made by Universal, who at that point had bought out the rights, Paramount missing out on owning what was one of the hallmark films of the genre. Their lack of support, in a roundabout way, made it the minimalist masterpiece it is, pushing the bare-bones production to focus more on framing, lighting, and creative use of sets rather than special effects.
