Psycho, Norman Bates and his beloved mother.

Foreword

Dear Readers, 

I earnestly hope that when this post is read, you shall perceive a character study constructed of empathy and insights, rather than bitter self-indulgence. 

Yours sincerely, 

Eric. Static. 

[Credit]

Psycho is the greatest commercial success of Hitchcock's almost legendary career, and is also certainly his most iconic masterpiece. According to the recent biopic, it is also the famed director's greatest gamble. I suppose that is - coincidentally - very appropriate given that having a child is probably one's greatest gamble. Apparently, it is also most rewarding. Those who have read or seen We Need To Talk About Kevin may argue otherwise, but I digress. 

Now, where shall I start with Mr. Bates...

Norman Bates can be most succinctly described as a Mamma's Boy, however, this description is as overly simplified as it is apt.

[Credit]

 The Norma-Norman relationship is complicated, to say the least, and I don't think I could adequately explore it without the help of beloved Freud. The Oedipal Complex sums that a boy's first spark of love or lust is inspired by his mother; the love suggestion is intuitive enough, as for the lust part, a boy's first recognition of a nude female is probably of his mother in the shower. 

Aside from its impeccable camera work, which suggests rather than imposes nudity and grotesque violence, the Janet Leigh shower scene - of less than three brief minutes - is universally and timelessly remembered for its insight into this complex. With each precise stab, accompanied by a score which rivals that of Jaws, the audience is horrified by the intense purge of prolonged sexual repression, and we are even more frightened when we realise that we, too, harbour recesses of such frustration. The only things missing are the situation and the urge. 

[Credit]

Nothing leaves. Nothing is to change, really.

 From the shyness and social awkwardness of a boy trapped in his mother's shadow to the understated coldness that has manifested from her selfish selflessness; Anthony Perkins, in a spellbinding performance, has captured every aspect of Norman. 

Oh, just the way his tone shifts when Leigh's character suggests institutionalising his mother in 'some place' sends icy shivers down my spine. This sensation is, of course, ingrained by Herrmann's truly eerie score. Even writing about it makes me feel unsettled. 

[Credit]

Talk about creatively misleading advertising. 

With every purposeful shot of the gothic establishment, Hitchcock draws the clear parameters of an almost two-dimensional, lonely world frozen in time. It should be fenced by bottomless swamps for anyone who dares to enter, well, refer to the photograph of the shower scene. Nothing leaves. Everything is to be as they are for little Norman cannot cope otherwise. He's living for two, you know. In a world built for two. Two and only two. 

Norman has not only preserved the physical remains of his mother, for how much impact could a skeleton make - I expect a resounding A LOT from those who have seen the film - she is, most figuratively, his other half. After all, how could you spell Norman without "Norma".

 This constant inner conflict, or persona dichotomy if you want to be fancy, is resolutely illustrated in the final scene where the camera zooms closer and closer upon Norman and the voice-over of his mother forever echos in the cold chambers of your mind. 

Conflicted people can come to do some very strange things... sometimes, unknowingly.

[Credit]