Watching Psycho
wasn’t really anything like I expected to be.
I expected horror, in the absolute extreme. In fact, I got
so wound up over it that by the time I sat down to watch it I was feeling
somewhat apprehensive.
Though, of course, I forgot that this film was released in
1960. And let me tell you, the special effects aren’t really up to much if you
want to be truly horrified. But they are positively hilarious to watch.
This film has the funniest on-screen death I have ever
seen. The fatal overacting, the alarming lack of blood, and falling down the stairs
that has clearly been aided with wires, culminated in a full five minutes of
mirth at what I feel was intended to be a crisis point in film. Watching it
gave me this strange, tickling satisfaction; like watching a video of a cat pushing
a trolley on its hind legs: bemusement mixed with sheer joy that the world has
produced something so uniquely special. I feel like I ought to write a letter
of apology to the late Mr Hitchcock for watching his film wrong.
I would, however, congratulate Mr. Hitchcock on building
tension to perfection. He clearly knew how to get into your head. The sense of
apprehension that you get when watching this film is what makes it so good. No
matter how basic the special effects are, you still can’t shake the feeling
that you about have the crap scared out of you. (You can actually see the man
himself do a cameo appearance in the film- if you watch this film, and I urge
you to do so, try and spot him. Or failing that, google it. I might have done
that.)
On a related, but also more disturbingly personal note, I
have never known any fear to create a rather bizarre tingling sensation in my
feet. MY FEET. So, I feel I may have stumbled on some sort of phenomena here. A
result of this blog post may be the creation of an alternative reality where
people will measure how frightened they are by measuring the blood circulation
in their feet… you never know.
But I digress. I’m probably not the first (or will I be
the last) person to say this, but there’s something quite awe-inspiring about
watching the film where the horror genre was established. The experience of
shouting stuff at the screen- “Don’t go in the basement, you idiot!” or “Stop
showering, he’s behind you!”- is all the more enjoyable when you know that
generations of people before you have shouted the exactly the same at their antique
black and white screens.
Except, equipped with minds desensitised to explicit blood,
violence and sex that is inherent in the media that modern society has been
systematically exposed to, we have bonus feature of laughing at the special effects
with ironic detachment.
It’s just a great time to be alive, isn’t it?
Well that’s me, coming at you, the reader, like a
psychopath brandishing a knife in a shower with a rather sentimental review
this week. Anyone fancy a cat video to restore balance to the world?
NEXT WEEK- Fight
Club
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