She starts to flee to the shop of her boyfriend, Sam Loomis. We all know the story: Marion Crane steals $40,000 (now $400,000, but still in cash) from her boss’s client. It lacks the feeling that something’s actually happening. It is updated for 1998 awkwardly, especially in a scene in which Lila tells Sam, “Let me get my Walkman”. But it lacks this major thing: the substance. This remake has the style: the cinematography, the story, the characters, the classic dialogue. Vince Vaughn (who I KNOW is a nice guy, I just can’t stand him as an actor) throws social awkwardness and ineptitude into a role for which he was seriously miscast. Gone is the unreadable, unpredictable, and undeniably insane Anthony Perkins. Anne Heche turns into a tiny, weak, scared little mouse that’s practically begging to be caught by my cats. Gone are the sassiness and erotic undertones of Janet Leigh. Oh, and there’s the fact that the blood is now in color. Oh, and he has porn magazines in his room.Īnother one: during both of the murder scenes, as the knife rises and falls, the scene is … intercut with surreal imagery, like writhing and roiling storm clouds, or a woman dressed like she’s in Fifty Shades of Grey, or other surreal dream images. And then there’s the gratuitous butt shot of Marion Crane as she falls over in the shower, and the gratuitous butt shot of Sam Loomis (Viggo Mortinson). We hear the damp, rhythmic rubbing sounds as he does the deed, and we hear him quietly grunt as he climaxes. The most obvious one is this: in the scene in which Norman Bates (Vince Vaughn) looks through the peephole at Marion Crane (Anne Heche) as she undresses, he masturbates. Though this is a shot-for-shot remake, there are some major changes. I may have had a bone to pick with the original Psycho‘s R rating, but I fully support the R rating of the 1998 shot-for-shot remake. Starring Vince Vaughn, Anne Heche, Julianne Moore, Viggo Mortinson, William H. Mormoncritic on Review 10: The Garbage Pail Ki… Thenabster126 on Christmas Special: Review 69:…Ĭar insurance quotes on Review 79: Megan is Missing…
Sam Raimi has some funny and interesting things to say about “the American cut” popularised by Hitchcock – the practice of cutting from a wide shot to a closeup. Bogdanovich talks interestingly about billing in the 1920s and 30s: how women were routinely above the title before the second world war, but male stars progressively muscled them out of the way, and how the murder of Marion Crane in its way set the seal on this tendency. The documentary puts Psycho at the very tipping point of US history, a spasm of fear after the certainties and complacencies of the 1950s and postwar prosperity – but before the Kennedy assassination, civil rights and Vietnam. It’s quite relevant to any discussion of what was going on in the director’s head when he shot the shower scene with Janet Leigh.īut there is some engaging material, and I particularly enjoyed Del Toro’s description of the shower scene as the “perfect stainless-steel trap” and there are some very witty and aposite clips of previous Hitchcock movies, from The Lodger to Rear Window, to suggest that everything in his work had been leading up to the Bates Motel shower scene as a crowning masterpiece: all the sense of transgression, vulnerability, anxiety, denial, fear, arbitrary extinction. There’s a lot of contextualisation in this documentary, but no one talks about Tippi Hedren’s experience some years later of being abused and menaced by Hitchcock in real life.
Psycho 1998 butt tv#
78/52 has a fair few pointless shots of guys sitting watching the shower scene on TV and saying not much more than “Wow!” and “Whoah!” Which of course is fine – although there’s a kind of self-policing in this discussion, and an obvious need not to seem so uncool or unsophisticated as to appear to be criticising the scene in any way, that prevents people talking about the dark streak of misogyny which, like it or not, partly fuelled the diabolical brilliance of this scene.
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