Issue link: https://digital.copcomm.com/i/1545125
54 C I N E M O N T A G E T A I L P O P P H OT O : P H OT O F E S T THAT'S CRAZY: Anthony Perkins in "Psycho." By Jana Carole I n 1968, I was a pre-adolescent when the 1960 Hitchcock hit "Psycho" was rele- gated to the "Midnight Movies" on late night TV. I heard rumors that "Psycho" was the scariest movie ever, so I was deter- mined to watch. My mother was a flat-out no. I intuited that this movie was going to mark a crucial turning point for me. Yet be- fore I could learn that meek Norman Bates was in fact that titular psycho, I desperate- ly needed to persuade my mom that I was up to the terror of it all. I begged, I whined. Still no. It's worth mentioning here that my mother was a career nurse. Maybe she'd heard about those nurses stationed in theater lobbies when "Psycho" premiered, providing aid to fainthearted audience m e m b e r s w h o c o u l d n ' t s t o m a c h t h e horrors. In any case, my RN mom had no interest in becoming that lobby nurse. My only hope became my dad, burrowed comfortably in his La-Z-Boy chair after sev- eral highballs. I watched astonished as he volunteered to become my Midnight Movie chaperone, promising my mother that he would remain present until the story's shocking end... come what may. So I settled in to be terrified. And my dad immediately fell asleep, snoring. It didn't matter; a warm body was sufficient. Thus, "Psycho" began: What first caught my pre-adolescent imagination was that sexy sequence involv- ing Marion Crane (played by Janet Leigh) in bra and panties during the opening scene's afternoon delight (signature Hitchcockian cheek that blatantly mocked the Hays Code). Marion's lacier black lingerie, later spied by Norman Bates (played by Anthony Perkins) through a peephole into Room #1, proves even racier. I became increas- ingly convinced that Marion was not the "good girl" I'd grown comfortable with in the movies I grew up watching. Marion's ethical lapses and suspenseful getaway proves a solid set-up for a psychological thriller, tension further compounded by the awkward parlor tête-à-tête with timorous Norman — a scene that transpires under the disturbingly watchful eyes of Norman's taxidermied animals. Gripped with fear, I was spellbound… as my dad snored on. The "Psycho" narrative escalates past Norman's voyeuristic peep- show to the iconic shower scene that will transform horror movies forever (a scene guaranteeing that I wouldn't be showering anytime soon). Amid the screeching-strings soundtrack that accompanies Marion's vicious slaughter, my father snorted awake. He looked at the TV, glimpsed the watery black-and-white blood running down the drain, and concluded that he was too tired to watch to the end, as promised. He then rose, as if from the dead, and stumbled down the hallway to his bed. N o w a n u n a c c o m p a n i e d m i n o r, I couldn't stop watching, entranced by the prospect of what might happen. Because now the ostensible protagonist, leading lady Marion, is dead… SO dead! Barely 40 minutes into the sto- ryline! The plot progressed, and I became increasingly fascinated by Marion's sister Lila (portrayed by the unassuming Vera Miles). White-knuckling it alone, I shortly discovered that Marion is not the protag- onist of this story at all; the protagonist is Lila. Lila is the one with the tenacity to return to the Bates Motel, exemplifying courage by stealthily entering the Gothic mansion alone, the only person with suf- ficient pluck to discover what happened to her morally-flawed sister, whom she loved unconditionally. Turns out Marion was an anti-pro - tagonist; the stereotypical horror-genre female-in-jeopardy. When Marion Crane steered her Ford off the highway and regis- tered as the only guest at the Bates Motel, she would become moviemaking's most significant slasher victim of all time. Fe- male victims would echo her scream on big screens for the remainder of the 20th cen- tury. Conversely, Lila is the clear-thinking true protagonist. As a character performing such a pivotal role in a legendary Hitchcock movie, Lila never received her due from Hol- lywood. For it is Lila who ultimately forces this story's shockingly scandalous reveal: that "Mother" was merely Norman's darker misogynistic matricidal alternate-ego. Lila is a classic hero for the ages, seeking truth and justice — an empowered woman, one who captured my almost-adolescent heart. The kind of person I hoped to become. ■ Jana Carole has spent 37 years as a union story analyst, working for Sony, Amblin, 20th Century Studios, Searchlight Pictures, and others. (For the record, Jana never ratted-out her dad, and she bravely returned to taking showers before turning 12.). She can be reached at: jana@mind.net. WOULDN'T HARM A FLY MOM SAID NO, DAD'S ASLEEP; LET 'PSYCHO' ROLL