On June 16th 1960 New York cinemagoers saw Janet Leigh step into a shower, and the world was forever changed.
Even 63 years later, Alfred Hitchcock’s classic suspense stunner Psycho (1960), is widely regarded to be one of the greatest films of all time – a statement which this reviewer shall by no means refute. In fact, there’s very little that I can say about the film that hasn’t already been said by others on countless occasions, and Psycho is perhaps only rivalled by Kubrick’s The Shining (1980), in staking claim to the title of “most obsessively dissected horror motion-picture”. Even my perspective as a transgender woman on the film’s cross-dressing killer, Norman Bates (a major spoiler, sure, but a necessary one in order for me to discuss the Psycho films), offers limited insight. Thankfully, there are already plenty of in-depth pieces written by trans folks about his gender expression and identity that have far more to say on the matter than I could in this review.
Less talked-about, however, are Psycho’s three sequels – not counting a failed 1987 TV pilot, a successful 2013 TV series, and a controversial 1998 remake. The cinematic Psycho legacy takes the form of three feature films released between 1983 and 1990, all of which are connected by one brilliant and troubled man who starred in the original 1960 film – the late, great Anthony Perkins. The “medical directors” who run the madhouse we know and love as Arrow Video, have housed all four Psycho films together for the first time on Blu-Ray in their latest release, The Psycho Collection. It’s possible that they’re hoping for the rehabilitation of these celluloid patients, so let’s take a look at the films which call Psycho “mother” and see if they can be re-integrated into the cinematic society of today.
Some might call it blasphemy to make a sequel to one of the Master of Suspense’s greatest hits, and yet that’s exactly what Australian director Richard Franklin (Road Games), did with Psycho II (1983). Set 22 years after the original string of Bates Motel murders, Psycho II makes the bold decision to follow the previous film’s killer (played tremendously by Perkins), upon his release from the mental institution in which he had spent the last two decades. Deemed “sane” by medical professionals, Norman returns home to his gothic childhood residence, but ghostly visions of his dead mother threaten to push him to the edge of sanity, as a new string of grisly murders begins on the motel premises. Psycho II is more of a psychological affair than the stalk-and-slasher that you would expect from an ‘80s horror franchise, and screenwriter Tom Holland (Child’s Play), invites us to figure out whether the spectres that haunt the Bates Motel are supernatural, a figment of Norman’s imagination, or something more sinister.
Sure, Psycho II never quite reaches the grand heights of its predecessor, but it’s a solid, compelling, intelligent film, and Anthony Perkins thrills with his deeply sympathetic portrayal of an older “reformed” Norman Bates. It’s also a more overtly political beast, with frequent, sharp criticisms about the failures of the U.S. healthcare and judicial systems. Surrounding that is a plot that challenges viewers’ perceptions of mental health, and even the limits of people’s “forgiveness” towards ex-offenders. The film is very witty, and aside from some self-aware nods to the ‘80s slasher genre that was largely launched by Hitchcock’s classic film, it also happens to feature an audacious reworking of a character from said masterpiece that is nothing short of inspired. Psycho II may occasionally be a little too slow and stripped-back for its own good, but that doesn’t distract from the fact that it’s a strong, solid second outing for Hollywood’s favourite knife-wielding momma’s boy.
With a troubled childhood, a dysfunctional relationship with his mother and life-long struggles with his sexuality, it’s common knowledge that Anthony Perkins drew from personal experiences in his portrayal of Norman Bates – to the point where elements of the character could be considered autobiographical.
Perkins would take to the director’s chair for Psycho III (1986), in which Norman and sleazeball second-in-command Duane Duke (Jeff Fahey), declare the newly-refurbished Bates Motel open for business. Things start to get messy when their first customer, nun-on-the-run Maureen Coyle (Diana Scarwid), turns out to be a dead ringer for Janet Leigh’s bathroom victim, Marion Crane, and soon the Bates Motel becomes the host venue for its third stabbing-spree.
Taking more cues from Blood Simple (1984), than The Birds (1963), Psycho III is a bizarre, neon-lit boiling-pot of genre elements, throwing together nunsploitation, cartoon humour and a confused romance plot to create a confounding, somewhat fascinating mess that just doesn’t quite come together. Its phenomenal score, composed by Carter Burwell, brims with Catholic guilt – but it rarely fits the film that it’s attached to. There are brief moments of crazed brilliance, sure, but they’re submerged in a swamp of wasted potential and deeply questionable creative decisions.
Yet it’s somehow difficult for me to describe Psycho III as an outright “bad” film, simply because it’s got so much of its creator in it. With a troubled childhood, a dysfunctional relationship with his mother and life-long struggles with his sexuality, it’s common knowledge that Anthony Perkins drew from personal experiences in his portrayal of Norman Bates – to the point where elements of the character could be considered autobiographical. Psycho III’s commentary on religion may be incredibly limited and under-baked, and the introduction of a female love interest for Norman might feel misjudged, but it’s near-impossible to separate Perkins’s bizarre decisions from the demons that he faced daily, and the questions about himself that he may have never found the answers to. It feels almost cruel to laugh at the failures of Psycho III, and yet said failures are hilariously bewildering nonetheless.
Perkins would return to the role of Norman Bates one final time for the made-for-TV pseudo-prequel Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990), directed by Masters of Horror (2005-07), creator and Post Mortem podcast host Mick Garris. Set during Norman’s childhood in the ‘40s and the present (that is, 1990), Psycho IV follows radio host Fran Ambrose (CCH Pounder), as she attempts to prevent anonymous caller “Ed” – in reality, a middle-aged Norman Bates – from picking up the knife once again. We didn’t necessarily need to see the events that shaped Norman into a killer, but Psycho IV manages to be a decently compelling final chapter in the Psycho story – albeit one obviously limited by the constraints of its TV-movie budget.
The flashback sequences depicting a young Norman Bates cast a new actor in the role, but it’s likely that any new take on the character would be overshadowed by Perkins’s iconic performance. Thankfully E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982), child star and Mike Flanagan regular, Henry Thomas, does an admirable job – even if his portrayal does pale in comparison to his adult counterpart. The real scene-stealer is Black Christmas (1974), final girl Olivia Hussey and her delightfully histrionic take on the notorious Mrs. Bates – a performance which some consider to be unbearably hammy, but one which I consider to be entertainingly unhinged.
Overlooked by many, I find Psycho IV to be a better sequel than most give it credit for, with an emotionally charged ending that makes for a fitting conclusion to the Bates saga. Extra emotional weight is added by the fact that Anthony Perkins was diagnosed with AIDs during the film’s production, and tragically passed away from the disease two years later. With all previous home releases having been cropped down from the original television aspect ratio to fit a widescreen format, it’s nice to see that Arrow’s new release comes with a bonus disc that allows viewers to watch the film as originally intended. My only wish is that this was the default option rather than a “limited edition only” special feature, even if this meant not including the cropped wide-release version that most are familiar with. Nonetheless, it’s good to know that The Psycho Collection is a house that Norman Bates can finally call home.
Psycho Collection is out now on Arrow Video Blu-Ray
