Hitchcock begins to describe the set, speaking as though it’s a real place and the events being real occurrences. He chose to do this to provide an air of realism; this is just like any other quiet harmless motel, the events could have happened anywhere, a completely random happening, not dissimilar a psycho’s victim who could be anyone.
His vocabulary in the descriptions continue to contrast the jolly music, but occasionally when for example he points out the old house, the music fades into the less jolly more unnerving tones of the Bernard Herman’s violins. Hitchcock talks with an air of superiority, as if he knows everything about this place, when he mentions that the place is up for sale, ‘though I don’t know who will buy it know.’ It leaves us gagging for wanting to know why. This neglect of disclosing any real answer is of course done on purpose; we all know that the only way we will find out what happened is by watching the film.
We’re introduced to a large dark house, described by Hitchcock as being sinister and less-innocent than the motel itself; and that dire, horrible events took place, again he fails to mention exactly what these where, though we do find out that there were several murders; this hint is necessary because although the audience can’t know everything before they see the film, they do need an idea of what it is about, what they can expect because usually a first small taste wets our appetites even more for a better pay off. The house is shown as being tall and foreboding, the vertical lines and upright stance cast a shadow over the seemingly inferior motel, which now looks very horizontal and even more harmless compared to the house. These two very different buildings put together remind us of how, like in a psycho, opposites can live together; The pleasant looking motel is the first thing a visitor would see, a welcoming normal front, but always there will be this dark looming house just behind, ever there incase the Motel fails. Perhaps this imagery is so vivid because it’s meant as an exact parallel of a real Psycho, most of the time trying hopelessly to hide the dark side, dark house, behind a smaller weaker more normal side, the Motel. In both cases the weaker side breaks down and the horrors of the dark side is released.
Hitchcock continues to show us around the house, frequently stopping mid-sentence during particular descriptions, frustrating us now because he’s almost teasing us. He opens doors, letting us in and look around, but still leaving many things unseen, cleverly he manages to keep us feeling privileged and interested.
More tasters are given, Hitchcock insinuates that the woman and son both ‘confront’ more than one victim; at this point more questions are aroused inside the audience, so more do they want to find the answers. It’s great because although after watching the film we find out that the statement isn’t entirely true, ironically it is; they do both have a part in the murders, but instead of it being the real physical Mother, it’s the son, Norman’s own psychotic mental creation, manifested in his dark side. His mother’s death has affected him to the point at which his is convinced she is still alive and he has subconsciously changed himself to be with her.
The black humour mixed with a macabre ambiance and frequent changes in music create an eerie air. As the tone changes to an irregular beat, it lulls the viewers into an uncomfortable status; we’re brought to the truth that this film is serious and that we have already been emotionally affected by this fabulous man, basically we know that if the film is half as offbeat as the trailer then it’s going to be good.
As the tour comes to a close we are finally shown around the personal rooms such as the parlor and bathroom. We get the first glimpses and ideas about Norman Bates and his way of life, Hitchcock notably points out the stuffed birds, which importantly can be both predators and prey. Then we begin to hear about the significance of the picture frame on the wall, at least until Hitchcock once again breaks away mid-sentence; every time he does this suspense is created because, like in a film, it’s frightening when we know something’s going to happen but not know when. At this point in the trailer, the audience now feel they must watch the film, we’ve been tantalized to the point of bitter frustration.
Hitchcock’s tone drops as he enters the bathroom, he claims that it’s all been cleaned up, a big difference; we want to know what it’s different from, and what is too horrible to explain, it has to be the place of the murder. Hitchcock solemnly tells us of certain significant parts of the room, the toilet, the shower and the shower curtain; then of the blood, certifying that there was a murder here, and then of the murderer. He ends by actually describing the way in which the faceless murderer entered the room and assaulted Marion whilst in the shower, by using himself as a physical story teller, he sharply draws back the curtain and the camera seamlessly cuts to stock footage of Janet Leigh performing a shockingly blood curdling scream.
The energetic opening credit sequence is unlike the trailer, in that with the trailer we weren’t entirely sure as to the kind of film this would be; but with the start of the film we are instantly convinced that it will be serious, and deal with major issues that would usually go unchecked for good reasons.
The audience is challenged with an array rapid, frantic images and music. We first hear Bernard Herman’s infamous staccato violin strings; the screen is constantly refilled by the ever contrasting white over black, the horizontal lines attack the screen and fracture it, soon we are flooded with vertical lines again dividing. These opposites colliding but coexisting along with the frantic music could be a representation of a Psycho’s mind, full of conflict and hate but strangely it’s internal, against oneself. Also the basic colours of this sequence, and the whole film, have meanings, black and white are opposite just like good and bad; so if both opposite colours can be present in the film then equally it is plausible that someone can have both good and bad within them.
The title itself is fractured, the letters begin to move; everything about this film seems to be infected by this abnormal condition, the audience is tense because they’ve just realised that if the credits are this crazy and thought provoking then the rest of the film should be stirringly exciting.
This tension built up in the credits and trailer is exactly what and when Hitchcock intended it to be. We are already unnerved by anxiety so any shock in the film will be an enhanced experience over what otherwise, without a good trailer and opening sequence, would have seemed slightly less substantial, almost a half hearted effort.
The sequence comes to a close as Hitchcock’s name is credited, and warped. The last group of white lines expand out and retract to the fading music and we are brought out to this peaceful air of the first scene.
By means of a panoramic wide shot, we’re shown around the captioned Phoenix, Arizona. Also captioned is the time and date, Friday December 11th, 2:43pm; this detail is included to provide a further sense of realism, like the trailer it’s as if these are recorded events and did actually take place; ultimately it adds tension to the audience’s experience because perhaps these things do happen and could happen to anyone, a psycho’s choice has no reason.
This notion is paralleled by the camera as it seemingly selects a random apartment in a random building; note that compared to the sun drenched city scapes of Phoenix, the apartments are dark and uninviting, like the occupants are hiding away and shutting out reality, perhaps even escaping from something. This happens to be exactly what Marian, and her love interest Sam, are doing.
The camera singles out an apartment, we move towards the window feeling like a voyeur, an intruder illicitly observing a nameless person’s life. The room is dark but the pace dreamy, slow, calm and settled as if there is no other place these two romancers would rather be. Inside are two lovers unable to properly spend time together due to marital and vocational complications. Sam shuts the window, shutting out reality; this shabby apartment is the only refuge they can peacefully retreat to, away from the bitter truths and reality of the real world. As they snatch every free moment they have to be together, making sacrifices and excuses, we strongly begin to feel empathy towards Marian, the woman, everyone should be able to realise their dreams but already we hear that she has many obstacles in her way. At this point in the film she is wearing completely white underwear; white to symbolise purity, cleanliness and truth, right now she has nothing but good intentions, and hasn’t condemned herself to any dark doings. This is the idealic Marian we grow to love.
The camera acts as the viewer, knowing they shouldn’t be prying but intrigued deep down nether the less; it follows the couple as they frolic, mimicking their movements, perhaps making us wish we had this kind of lust for someone in our lives.
The music also is portraying the ambiance of the scene, surreal and sad. These people can only show their love when in dark hiding, we want their complications to just disappear proving that an allegiance between us and Marian has already been formed; this early attachment is important because throughout the film Marian enters various stages and worlds of abnormality, so in turn the audience do to; It is a good device to have a character representig the audience, the everyman because then it’s not completely strange for us to watch these mad worlds. As we share our feelings and emotions with Marian, we strengthen our connection, arousing various emotions when good or bad things happen to her.
Marian later tells us of her problems, reality floods back in along with light, truth, as Sam pulls up the window blind and all the problems now seem very real; the bubble of peace and solitude has truly been burst. We long for everything to be made right for the unfortunate couple, for something amazing to happen that will finally bring them together in truth; but as this film is realistic we now that such miracles seldom take place. The dreamy music ceases as they decide to part, the window is uncovered and light floods back into the room and we’re hit y the blinding brightness real world. As in the opening credits, lighting plays an important role in portraying to the audience the specific mood and state of mind the certain character is in at that time; now light and dark represent reality an surreality. The real world is shown to be light because it is full of truth and certainty, but each of Marian’s worlds and strange places are dark to show that she doesn’t know where she is going, and she’s maybe fooling herself in thinking that she’ll be able to get through the darkness.
The lover’s stolen moment is over.
We proceed to Marian’s place of work, here there is no music, so no particular emotions need to be represented, just to prove that this is the norm and everything is regular. The pace, as to be expected in a place of work, is relatively quick and the characters say only what they need to say. We’re introduced to Marian’s boss Mr. Cassidy, an ignorant, selfish man constantly boasting about his comparatively abundant amount of money. His tone is imperious and over powering, he belittles Marian making us feel less fondly towards him as we have a prestablished connection with Marian. He mentions how he only carries around the amount cash he can afford to lose, so when he asks Marian to deliver a certain $40, 000, exactly the kind of miracle Marian and Sam need to run away together with, the audience has a rush of longing towards Marian, willing her to take the money because she needs it so much more than Mr Cassidy ever will; plus it would be an entertainment on our part to see him suffer, someone who has purposely be cruel to our Marian.
Hitchcock was hoping for this type of response so he purposefully created the following events to create tension. Marian is in her private room, obviously well aware of the option of taking the money, we can see her mental contemplations and thoughts of morality in the way she nervously gets changed. Symbolically, her underwear is now black, as before with the apartment, telling the audience that we are seeing the other, less idealistic more desperate or dark side of Marian; this is also reflected in the mirror, we are able to see the other side of Marian, physically and mentally. Mirrors are used for people to look into, like a psycho could be looking in at anyone, anywhere. But it is not basic greed that is driving Marian to even contemplate this situation, it is very circumstantial; her position with Sam, her job, her boss and her state of mind all have parts to play in the decision she is about to make.
The camera repeatedly uses subjective shots to show the money. Looking at Marian, then pointing at the money, then at the suitcase and finally back to Marian. Putting what the audience is thinking into practice, telling her what we want her to do; we want to tell her that in her circumstances it’s alright for her to take the money, that her boss won’t miss it. Tension and suspense is of course present here, we’re made to think about the consequences of her taking the money, if she gets caught or if something goes wrong, will she get away with it? We even wonder whether she’s going to take it or not. Whatever Marian does or does not do, Hitchcock has already manipulated our feelings towards her so that we will agree with her choice whatever it is, because she is only person we can truly empathies with, and like in any film no audience ever wants to lose that bond.
Along with the ever tension building eerie violin strings of Bernard Herrman, we feel that she must make a choice soon, and this time it will be the right choice. She hastily takes the money and leaves in a hurry, without looking back, she’s finished with that mundane life, it’s time for change and we applaud her for her decision.
She quickly makes her way out of the city by car, adorned with a false front of calm. We are forced, by the close-up camera angle, to constantly stare at her facial contortions and the way they change throughout the journey; Hitchcock does this to remind us that Marian is the one character we should always be with, emotionally. We are fed suspense and tension, although she gradually seems to be getting away, we wonder whether it will all go to plan. Also being a film, we know that there must be obstacles and, from the trailer, that Marian will be at some point attacked in a shower. Whilst still giving her our full attention, we begin to hear her thoughts and dialogue taking place elsewhere at the same time, these may be her own guesses as to what people would say after they find out she’d left; this again bring us closer to Marian, we have the ability to hear what’s going on inside her head, a scope that can only increase our closeness and strength of connection with her. The famous violin string soundtrack is played implying that something troublesome could happen; the pace quickens providing an air of a chase. Always she is staring directly at the road ahead of her, suggesting that if she doesn’t look at anyone, then no one will notice her; that’s the last thing she wants to happen at his moment in time. But as she stops on a red light suspense and tension is created when one of Marian’s superiors Mr. Lowery actually walks past her car and glances a confused expression at her. She’s been held up, and seen leaving the city by a man who’s bound to tell any enquirers; the music kicks back in with a vengeance and we urge Marian to drive away as quickly as possible, to forget the hold ups and not dwell in the past. She heads off into the night, the unknown, full of darkness containing nothing but the road to badness; this transition complements the theme of Marian’s moral transition from light to dark, though the audience will never see her psychological journey as being a bad thing, due to our for her. Her determination to be with Sam and achieve her perfect life keeps her going although she is obviously very tired; our constant focus on Marian’s face allows us to watch the deterioration of the strength of her will, clever usage of the blinding opposing car headlights reflected on Marian’s face effectively makes her look very sinister, almost evil. The blindingly bright headlights could be a representation of the always present truth that lingers inside Marian, truth that she has committed a serious crime and is clearly trying to forget it or at least shove it to the back of her mind; she’s left with a manic grin to show just how disturbed this ordeal has made her. We watch as she obsessively keeps looking into the rear view mirror, the audience wonder whether she is being tailed, whether something is happening behind her, because the music certainly suggests that something is upset. Marian is actually looking back out of paranoia and stress, no matter how far she runs away the past will always be there to haunt her, once you’ve driven past a city it hasn’t disappeared because you’ve past it, it’s still there in the rear view mirror.
Soon however, tiredness overcomes Marian; this time she’s held up by herself so it would be her fault if she is detected, we begin to doubt her reason as she settles down for the night but not so much that we cease to fear for her.
Marian is sharply awakening from her peaceful sleep; she’s managed to find a little peace at last but it’s soon destroyed by a faceless enforcer. The policeman wears sun glasses, a detail exercised by Hitchcock to show that this man doesn’t need to be a particular person, that anyone can hold up Marion and pose a potential threat. It also shows how already fazed we and Marian are by the experience, the real world seems not to matter any more, all individuality of unimportant people to the story has gone, from our perspective.
The audience see the police man via a subjective shot from inside the vehicle; of course we become filled with tension and feel distraught because this man may be about to ruin everything our dear favorite character is and has been working so hard for. He’s so close to discovering the truth but luckily has no reason to believe that she’s done anything wrong at all. Marian nervously explains that she felt to tired to carry on driving so she pulled over to rest, she keeps her eyes wide open trying to provide an air of truth, when all it really is, is a pretence that would only seem more suspicious to the officer. After curiously questioning Marian and checking her ARIZONA license plate, he leaves her to continue her journey, but blatantly begins a silent pursuit; at this point the staccato violin strings are introduced and in turn suspense induced.
At a vague attempt to try and lose any tails and dismiss any connections she has to herself, Marian decides to use the money to buy a new vehicle.
At first contact with the sales-man he says that he doesn’t want trouble of her, ‘the first customer of the day is always trouble,’ of course it’s only a coincidence that she’s the first customer of the day, and happens to be in a lot of possible trouble. Marian uses the bathroom, to decide to use the money for the first time; like in her private room there is a mirror here as well, to show her other side, used for doing less normal things; the violin strings are present to create tension. It obviously isn’t easy for her but she takes out the money, now fully decided that she will break into it, we realise that there is no turning back, she will never be able to explain the missing money with the evidence she has against her.
During the sale of the car the music is slow again and dreamy, like Marian has strayed so far away for her own normal reality that it now fits better into the category of a dream. The car sales-man is astounded when Marian doesn’t barter for the price of the new car; doing exactly what she shouldn’t do, her bahviour appears odd and irrational. We feel anxious towards the situation because it’s so fragile at the moment, any news of a woman escaping from Phoenix with the money, could arrive here at any time; we are therefore more intimate with Marian as we wish this uncomfortable encounter will soon end. The sales-man holds her up, questioning her legal jurisdiction, guessing that she may be being followed and not wisely backing off to her naivety.
Also, subjectively, we are shown that the police officer has followed her, he observes from the other side of the road. To us and to Marian this vision is dreadful. We wonder why he has decided to follow, and if this time he will stop her and search the car. It’s very tense to be silently overlooked by the person you’re escaping from. She buys the car with the CALIFORNIA registration plate to try and confuse potential enquiries about her, as they would be looking for Arizona plates. Marian hastily drives away from the man who’s jut told her not to be in a hurry, but is shortly stopped by him, yet another hold up that makes us want her to run even further away; suspense is create here as we cautiously look on in need of knowing why he has stopped her. She turns out to just have forgotten to transfer her bags from old car to new. This time Marian continues to drive off, away from the sales-man and now the police man as he joins him, who seemingly was right behind her and just about to stop her; we feel relieved for Marian because that was an extremely close call, perhaps he now knows something about her? The audience may feel, at this point, that because there have been so many near misses already that this escapade is doomed to fail and be brought down, we can’t be certain but it will surely be uncovered.
Her journey continues into another night, again we hear her thoughts of what she thinks people are saying about her, a manifestation of the doubt that lies within her, in this case the police man and the sales-man. The tension on her worried face is appreciated again by the aid of a close up, and we can see her having trouble seeing the road ahead of her, this time not due to blinding lights but by darkness and the heavy rain; intending that all hope for her has gone, not even a glimmer of truth is left. The storm has been unleashed. More of Bernard Herman’s music is introduced to give an air of a chase, but now we know that the chase and discontent is all internal to Marian; she is nervous, anxious and paranoid but seems to have a manic grin on her face. Soon, like the previous evening’s adverse conditions, this time weather, force her to take a turn off the road into place that at this point can only seem like hope. The Bates Motel.
As Marian pulls up to the low, long motel the music drones out, implying that for now the audience can relax as can she. We’re left with nothing but the sound of the rain, rain being the start of a new theme being introduced to do with water, symbolising various purifications. Here we are neither tense nor at any real comfort; Hitchcock specifically left out any music at this instance because usually music is used along with the action to complement it, so certain styles of music are used to show particularly what is happening and what is going to happen. But here, Hitchcock didn’t want to give the audience any clues at all as to what will happen at the Motel, we are left only with a blank mind as is Marian. There has been no dramatic irony used as yet in the film as we are taking this journey with Marian all the way, so we have no knowledge so far of anything accept of what she has seen so far.
Marian gets out and runs over to the Motel only to find that it is empty. As she searches for a host we are introduced to the same looming, sinister looking house we saw in the trailer. We are again reminded of the difference between to two buildings, the Motel being small, horizontal and inferior in stature, some how suggesting that it has been put in front of the dark house to hide it from travellers as they may be put off be the old cliché that is the haunted mansion. But like a Psycho, although they may try to hide their dark overbearing side behind a more normal looking but weaker front, it will always be just visible and at any time it could break through and prove that it is a truly evil place.
She tries to get the occupants of the house’s attention by sounded her car horn and we are shown, by a long subjective shot, a female sillouette in a window and soon afterwards a man coming out of the house and walking down to the Motel. This seems to give Marian some relief as now she knows she’ll be able to stay the night, but we know from the trailer that a Woman and son both ‘confront’ someone during the film, so the chances are that these will be the very same. We begin to wonder whether one of them is the Psycho and here are confusion deepens; during the following section of the film, the audience’s opinion changes over and over as to who Psycho will be. Aswell we deduce, based on every other mystery thriller film, that by now we will have been inroduced to the culpret.
We are inroduced to a seemingly normal man, Norman Bates, and a seemingly normal environment, a rest from the recent abnormal time Marian has been going through; also, when they enter the Motel the lights are switched on to reinforce this state of normality. Norman is pleasant and tries to lighten the the tense atmosphere brought on by the bad weather and Marians obviouse unease. Tension is created as we see Marian register her herself as ‘Maria Samuels’ and writes that she is ‘Los Angeles,’ here we now that she is serious and has made herself completely intraceale, ofcourse a disadvantage of doing this is that if anything was to happen to her, no one close would ever know or be able to find her and help her. With aid of a subjective shot we see Norman Bates hesitantly wavering over the room for Marian, we are made to believe that he chooses room 1 on purpose. His excuse is that’s its closer, he’s right next to her if she wants something; but this only unnerves us because if indeed he is the Psycho, it will be much worse for Marian as he can easily keep her in check. His intensions seem kind but the audience guess that there’s more to Norman Bates than meets the eye.
He gets her bags and shows her to her to her room; saying that it’s stuffy he opens a window, this could be seen as him opening up Marian to him, making her easy and vunerable to attack. Norman gets to mentioning the bathroom but begins to stutter, he regards it darkly and this seems to put down his happy prescence so he hastly leaves saying that she should just knock if she wants anything; this again reminding us of how close he is to Marian and how easily her room could be infiltrated. Before he does leave though, he kindly asks Marian to join him to dinner, the light hearted invitation is accepted by Marian mostly out of politeness but partly because of her lack of company; the audience rekindle a few more flames of doubt towards Norman as he constantly seems to be bringing Marian closer and closer to him.
Once Marian is alone, she starts to worry about the money and where to hide it, portrayed by edgy nervous music. Again we see a mirror in this room symbolising that this is Marians darker side but because of our attatchment we continue not to think that it’s a bad thing she’s doing. Just as she cleverly hides the money in a roll of news paper the music stops and we hear a conversation coming from the house. The storm fades away and we’re left with the harsh, unreasonable protests of Norman’s mother, tension is created as we hear that she strongly disagrees with having a woman staying in the Motel, this puts pressure on Marian because this would make her feel more intrussive and unwanted less like a guest. Marian’s feelings of discomfort and guilt are shared by us, although she didn’t open the window herself it still feels as if she’s eves dropping. The audience starts to think about maybe this not being the best place for Marian to be right now as she’s tryig to lie low, and that so far, with the strangeness of Norman and his mother, nothing but more hardship and struggles are yet to come. Starting with spending an awkward meal with Norman because quite clearly, from the conversation we hear, his mother does not approve.
