Establishing Gender Control in Alfred Hithcock’s Psycho

Academic Paper by William Conlin. Film viewed on DVD

As today is the 50th anniversary of Psycho‘s release, I decided to post an essay I recently wrote on the issue of gender control in Hitchcock’s 1960 thriller. Citations mentioning Benshoff and Griffin refer to the book America on Film.

In Hollywood history, only a few directors have managed to establish themselves in a specific genre the way Alfred Hitchcock made himself the “Master of Suspense”. From his earliest films all the way to Family Plot, Hitchcock weaved tales of mystery, terror and sexual desire. The “Hitchcock blonde” can be traced all the way back to The Lodger (1927) where a serial killer stalks blonde women in the London fog. During the 1950’s and 60’s Hitchcock enlisted blondes such as Doris Day, Grace Kelly, Kim Novak and Tippi Hedren to create a level of desire in his films. But in recent years it seems that one iconic film (and its blonde star) have overshadowed Hitchcock’s entire filmography. Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 masterpiece Psycho seemingly begins as the story of Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) a woman who is so desperate for happiness that she steals $40,000 to pay of her lover’s debts. After fleeing town she finds herself at the mysterious Bates Motel where it’s owner, a young man named Norman immediately shows interest. Sadly for Marion, Norman’s mother has other plans in mind. Marion is brutally murdered in one of the most iconic scenes in history. With Marion’s sudden disappearance, those attached to her begin to search for the truth and the scary secrets surrounding the Bates Motel begin to come forward. Though Janet Leigh’s character is killed only 47 minutes into Psycho, she, and the film established a new standard for sexuality on screen. In analyzing three key scenes in Psycho, the viewer will be given a revealing look into the visual parameters of women in film, as defined by Benshoff and Griffin.

The first scene being analyzed is also the first scene of the film. Psycho almost immediately fulfills the idea of voyeurism with a slow creep into the window of a Phoenix hotel room. We are immediately introduced to our main character (or so we think) Marion Crane, as she lies on a bed. Standing over her is a half naked man, Sam Loomis (John Gavin). We don’t see his face, only his body. The balance of power shifts three times during the course of the scene. It begins with Sam in control, whenever he moves Marion follows. When Marion jumps off the bed she takes control but is quickly reigned in by Sam’s open arms. After a short discussion Marion regains control by exiting without him when he asks if they can leave together. The scene maintains a rather dark feel until Sam opens the window, upon which we see a p.o.v. shot of Marion’s view of him at the window. Sam is lit to accentuate his body as he holds his arms up to the top of the window and the viewer can immediately feel a sense of objectification by Marion. Though Sam is weakened by his inability to give Marion what she desires (respectability), he still asserts his masculinity by refusing to allow her to live with him in a “one bedroom apartment” behind a tool shop. In what can be looked as an act of feminism, Marion ends the scene by exiting without him. A scene like this shows a shifting dynamic in filmmaking. Unlike scenes in earlier films where the woman has no power at all, Marion’s few moments of control establish her as a strong female character dealing with a male character in a weakened position. This scene is of great importance for Hollywood history. Psycho in many ways shows the deterioration of the Production Code. When censors looked that the first cut they refused to allow two half naked characters to start the film but Alfred Hitchcock fought back and won, exposing the weakness of the censor board.

Once Marion has stolen the money and landed herself at the Bates Motel, there is a scene with the hotel’s disturbing proprietor Norman Bates that challenges gender roles and shows the weak positions of power that Hitchcock gives each character in the film. Marion begins the scene by listening in as Norman fights with his mother. She peers out her window at the menacing house and hears the loud voices coming from it. Afterwards Norman brings some food down to Marion. They settle in his parlor, surrounded by a collection of stuffed birds. Norman alludes to the connection between his birds and his mother, establishing a fetish of control, stemming from his general lack of control in life. The editing of the scene shows a divide between the characters. Only once during the conversation are both characters in the same shot, from then on they are presented in p.o.v. shots of the opposite character. Norman’s weak nature stays steady throughout the scene until Marion suggests that his mother be put into an asylum, at which point his character takes on a whole new level of power. Through Norman’s subtle shift into madness he takes complete control of the scene and pushes Marion into a weak position. The lighting of the scene maintains a darkness that is much stronger than the opening hotel scene. Though three-point lighting is employed, the fill and back lights are both kept at a low level maintaining a contrast on the character’s faces. Marion is shot from a level prospective putting her right in the middle of the screen but Norman is shot from below, presenting him as higher than Marion. This allows his monologue to seem even more powerful. During the course of the scene Marion decides to return to Phoenix and face the consequences of her actions. After she leaves the audience is once again given a voyeuristic moment when Norman spies on her through peephole in his parlor. This scene establishes that she, as a woman, can still in some ways be swayed by even the weakest of men.

The final scene being studied is the tool shop scene in which the audience is introduced to both Lila Crane and Milton Arbogast. The scene begins with Sam relenting to Marion’s earlier wishes and writing a letter asking her to come live with him. Sam is soon disturbed by Lila Crane (Vera Miles), who informs him of Marion’s theft and subsequent disappearance. They are then both disturbed by Milton Arbogast (Martin Balsam) who informs them that he is a private investigator searching for the money and Marion. The conversation begins with Sam fulfilling the male gaze. He is dominant over Lila and without a word creates a position where Lila is begging him for help. He is then overshadowed by Arbogast, who becomes the dominant force in the scene. Yet again the audience is given moment of voyeurism when Sam has to ask his employee to go away while he talks to Lila. There are no p.o.v. shots in this scene but the introduction of Arbogast is evidently portrayed as uncomfortable and intruding. He is so close to the camera that there is a level of awkwardness for the viewer. Sam and Lila are immediately put into weakened positions by Arbogast and though they are innocent, he tells them that no matter what happens he will find her, making them suspects. Sam presents a challenge to Arbogast whole Lila immediately falls to the wayside and the two men (though one is stronger) take control of the situation.

Though Psycho is world famous for Bernard Herrmann’s score, all three of these scenes are absent of music. The score is, however, used in scenes surrounding these to keep a level of intensity with the viewer. The editing in Psycho alters from slow to fast paced, depending on the scene. The pacing is quite evident in the supper scene but takes a complete turn in the shower scene just a few moments later. The shower scene features 50 cuts in a little over 3 minutes. Psycho fits as a perfect example of the dynamics of gender roles in the 1960’s. Though Marion displays a strong level of feminism, the audience is quickly shown that if a woman exerts strength, she could very well end up dead on a hotel bathroom floor. It is equally interesting that though Norman is presented as a passive individual for the length of the film he is in fact one of the strongest people presented. He kills two of the strongest characters and though physically subdued at the end of the film, his mind (and the multiple personalities in it) remains strong and determined. Psycho also assists “the times” and its methods of coping with a change in sexuality. By portraying a transvestite as a mentally unstable serial killer, homophobic males can more easily justify their dislike of alternative sexual roles. A few years ago, Psycho was voted the greatest thriller ever made. Though this ruling obviously comes from its more famous sequences, the scenes looked at in this essay establish how it maintains a level of suspense throughout. No character remains in control for long, and no body seems to be safe at any moment. Psycho truly is a heart-pounding tale of greed, murder and mystery.