Citizen Kane (1941)

Well, we watched Citizen Kane in film class last night. I had seen the movie a couple years ago, but forgot most of the movie. Obviously, I had some pretty big expectations for the movie coming in, as it is considered to be the greatest American film ever made. I really enjoyed this movie on pretty much every level; the plot, the actors, the cinematography were all fantastic. I was completely wrapped up in the story, but sometimes there were unique filming techniques that jumped out at me. It wasn't distracting, but just made me appreciate the quality of this legendary film even more.

One aspect of the movie that I just absolutely loved was Orson Welles' creative ways of transitions between scenes. There was a ton of graphic matches, such as a closeup of Susan's eye fading into a stain-glass eye in one of Kane's mansion windows. Another example is the opening shots of different angles of Xanadu, with the window's light remaining in the exact same spot on screen during several dissolves. Some of the graphic matches are easily overlooked, but I just thought it was a subtle use of creativity to add a unique quality to the film.

Citizen Kane seemed to just get everything right. All the actors were perfectly natural portraying their characters. The plot was simple, a rich man's life, but contained complex emotional themes to make it interesting. There was a perfect distribution of subtle humor. Plus, there were ambiguous elements in the story that make you think and add your own interpretation. I can easily see how this film became known as one of the greatest, but it is not too pretentious to become alienated from casual audiences.

Side Note: During the film, I kept thinking that certain lines and songs in the movie (the big band singer: "It can't be love, for there is no true love", the dancers: " There is a man, a certain man, and for the poor you may be sure, that he'll do all he can") that sounded extraordinarily familiar. Walking back to my dorm I realized. They're all in a White Stripes song! Look up The Union Forever by The White Stripes. It's an homage to Citizen Kane, and every line of the song is taken directly from the film. Check it out!

Film Noir: The Elusive Definition

Film noir is an ambiguous genre that has a loose set of elements that, combined, give a film a unique style that is usually recognizable to general audiences. Many people argue over whether certain elements, such as the presence of water (i.e. rain, streams, etc.), are necessary to make a movie fit into the "film noir" genre. However, from the film noir movies I've seen, which are generally acknowledged as such, I can gather a few core elements that form at least a broad base. Here are some elements, divided into categories based on how necessary the elements are, that I think define film noir:

Vital to Film Noir
-Crime/Pursuit as the plot basis
-Emotionally dark
-Morally ambiguous
-Physically/Visually Dark
-Femme Fatale
-Dark Hero/Heroine

Important, Not Vital
-Smoke (i.e. cigarettes) or Smokey mis-en-scene
-Murder
-Detective or cop as lead character
-Intricate Plot
-Plot twists
-Heavy Shadows

Common, Not Important
-Dry humor
-40s-style banter
-Alcohol and cigarettes
-In modern film noir: anachronistic characters/elements

Blade Runner (1982)

Blade Runner is a more modern twist on the film noir genre, with the base elements (crime-based, detective as a main character, the femme fatale, smoky darkness) painted over in a color format. It was a fun film and I really enjoyed its timeless qualities (even in the midst of a futuristic setting), use of shadows and smoke, and the open-endedness of the plot.

The film was very entertaining, and Harrison Ford is a always an easy actor to watch. He may not have the greatest ability, and is often type-casted, but he's definitely fun to watch. Ford is definitely perfect as the stereotypical film noir detective-type.

Touch of Evil (1958)

I did not enjoy Touch of Evil as much as I had anticipated. I am a huge fan of Orson Welles, who both directed and acted in this film, but there were aspects of the movie which completely detracted from the cinematographic qualities which were so interesting. I admire the filming style and acting ability of Welles, but the actual plot was not intriguing to me at all, and most of the main characters irritated me to the point where I never felt emotionally involved in the outcome of the story.

The film was extremely interesting aesthetically, with unique camera angles that accentuate the tension and terror of certain scenes (i.e. the hotel room murder by Quinlan) and intricately long shots that cover movement down whole city blocks. Despite my appreciation for the camera work, I was completely distracted from enjoying the movie as a whole by my dislike for every character. Some are intentionally unlikable (such as Quinlan), but the completely unrealistic makeup on Charlton Heston trying to play a Mexican official, the overbearingly obnoxious Uncle Joe Grandi, and the helpless Janet Leigh left me no one to like or cheer for. I can't exactly pinpoint whether it was the character or actor that I disliked, but I know by the end I did not really care what happened to any of them.

Overall, there are redeeming qualities of the film, like the filming, and the film had potential to be intriguing and entertaining, but it fell short of exploring that potential fully.

Double Indemnity (1944)

Double Indemnity, directed by Billy Wilder in 1944, is a well-known example of the film noir genre. I appreciated the movie for its twisting crime-based plot and entertaining dialogue.

The film begins with a seeming give-away, since the main character is dying from a gunshot wound, so a viewer enters the story feeling like we know everything that will happen. However, the plot contains many twists, with good guys turning bad, and turning back again. This was a great aspect of the film, in my opinion. It is unclear who exactly is the "bad guy", and the lack of black-and-white morality is pretty unique for an apparently tradition crime-drama. We are sympathetic with the main character, Walter Neff, but he is a detective being led into a dark world by a femme fatale, where he becomes determined to murder her husband and cover up the deed.

Another aspect of Double Indemnity that I enjoyed, although not necessarily unique to the film, was the witty and fast-paced dialogue, especially between the two main characters. I always find it somewhat humorous to watch films from this era that contain the stereotypical over-acted dialogue that seem unnatural to two regular people. It makes the movie more dramatic, but in a stylized manner that disconnects the audience from really identifying with the characters. Maybe the audiences back in the '40s were used to the dialogue style, and with time it just seems strange or even laughable.

Double Indemnity is definitely worth watching, as long as you're not expecting a crime thriller. It doesn't necessarily keep you on the edge of your seat, trying to figure out what happens, but it is an entertaining example of the film noir genre.

Ran (1985)

Frankly, Akira Kurosawa's film Ran is now one of my least favorite movies. Ever. While I respect its cinematographic merits, it was far too long and had some of the worst acting I have ever seen. Perhaps its my western culture, but all the actors were irritatingly over dramatic without ever being sympathetic in any sense. Not once in the two hours and forty minutes did I ever care what happened to any of them. King Lear, which the screenplay is heavily based on, is an amazing play that I loved reading in high school. Maybe I was just too preoccupied with thinking about the election that was unfolding to really let myself become absorbed into the presented reality, but I definitely will never, ever watch this movie again and I will never, ever recommend it to anyone.

Daughters of the Dust (1991)

Daughters of the Dust was a very slow-moving film, but I enjoyed the calm, smooth, story line. This movie could have easily felt like it was dragging, because there were no exciting plot twists or dramatic conflicts, but instead it was comfortable in its easy pace. The characters themselves were so interesting and complex that relaxed flow of the narrative allowed for time of personal contemplation and analysis of the situations and emotions.

Daughters of the Dust is probably too slow and contemplative for general audiences, who mostly enjoyed action-packed, dramatic films with clear conflicts and resolutions. I would argue that this film has none of these characteristics in their traditional sense. Instead, it is a tranquil exploration of a unique culture, with occasional eruptions of emotions over complex family and cultural tensions. It was a very interesting and beautiful film, although I probably wouldn't recommend it to many people, although I personally enjoyed it.

Casablanca

I was definitely surprised by how good Casablanca actually was. Its obviously a classic, and has been considered one of the greatest films for a very long time. So, I shouldn't have been caught off guard that I loved the movie (I haven't really met an old black-and-white film that I don't like), but it far exceeded my expectations.

I, somewhat embarrassingly, was quickly caught up in the drama of Rick's American Cafe, which was in the Moroccan city of Casablanca. The plot held strongly to Hollywood tradition, with a clearly intentional sympathy towards the main character (Humphrey Bogart) and his love interest (Ingrid Bergman), who were both trying to navigate through the French-occupied, and Nazi influenced, city. The characters were so sympathetic, in fact, that only halfway through did I realize how crazy it was that I was cheering for the woman who cheated on her husband while he was in a concentration camp! I didn't even realize how absurd (and horrifying) that actually was until then.

Despite that last point, I really liked Casablanca. It isn't incredibly innovative (as far as I am aware), but it is a great example of the so-called "golden age" of Hollywood. At least, it is incredibly entertaining and enjoyable.

Editing in "Man With a Movie Camera"

This was one of the most interesting films I have ever seen. Dziga Vertov's 1929 experiment in film has absolutely no plot, but explores aspects of Russian city life through a continuous montage of random images edited together. The editing of these images is intentionally obvious in an effort to force the audience to interpret the juxtapositions. Most modern audiences would not even consider Man With a Movie Camera a movie at all, because there isn't even a hint of conventional narrative. However, Vertov took a more unique approach in order to fully explore the artistic and technologic possibilities of the movie camera. It challenges the viewer to see the beauty and complexity in the seemingly ordinary objects in the world around us, through the innovative approach to editing.

Every single "scene" (it is difficult to pinpoint starting and ending points to scenes, if there even are any) could be extensively dissected to study the editing style, but some of my favorite parts are when two shots are forged together. Shown in the above picture, two seemingly unrelated images are edited together, creating a surreal or whimsical final image. Another example of this is the shot of a glass of beer, with the cameraman standing inside. The intention of Vertov's editing in these shots is difficult to guess, but the impact was unique. My reaction to those couple of scenes ranged from amusement to artistic appreciation (especially for the innovation in a time period of limited film technology).

Throughout Man With a Movie Camera, the shots are mostly succinct and random, with shock cuts dominating the transitions. However, occasionally there are breaks from this style, like when he fluidly dissolves repeated images of a woman opening her window into each other for a relatively extended shot. Those couple of seconds felt like a relief to my eyes after watching so many straight cuts. Perhaps this was intended as a visual aesthetic and a calming pause in the hectic morning of the Russian city.

I would definitely recommend watching this film (or at least segments), just as an appreciation for the possibilities of film as an art. There are no main characters or dramatic narratives to hold your attention, but the editing is unique in revealing truths without those conventionalities.

Raging Bull

Normally, I really dislike sport films. The plots are always predictable, as writers are usually more concerned with pleasing the crowds with an inspirational win than with creating realistically complex characters. Truthfully, I thought Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull was going to fit into the traditional sport-film mold. However, this boxing movie was much more unconventional, and I greatly enjoyed the film.

The opening shot of Jake LaMotta warming up in slow motion, with his boxing robe billowing and camera bulbs flashing in the background, drew me in immediately to the film. It had artistic merit, in the framing and beauty of the shot, but it also let the audience spend time thinking about who this man was. Jake is the only object to focus on, helping the audience connect with him. I also really liked the intricate and stylistic editing of the fight scenes. In other boxing movies, the fights are usually the most monotonous parts, and I can't wait for them to finish (How many times do I have to watch two guys punch each other?!). In Raging Bull, however, I was always anticipating the fight scenes. There was something really artistic and captivating about the varied editing techniques and photography-inspired shots. Those segments restored my interest in the film, which waned slightly after spending too much time listening to Jake LaMotta speak.

My favorite part about the film, however, is the fact that there is no Hollywood style ending, with the champion finishing as a hero. I always respect films that stay true to life and don't try to sell a movie off of its inspirational, and often unrealistic, grand finale. It was a gritty, realistic depiction of Jake LaMotta's life, without trying to force a message on the audience about overcoming obstacles. Raging Bull wasn't inspirational or emotionally moving to me, I enjoyed the realism and visual aesthetics of the film.

Breathless

Watching Jean-Luc Godard's 1959 film Breathless was certainly a unique experience. Although the movie had a relatively simple plot and minimal (if any) character development, the editing and empty dialogue were entertaining enough. While it seemed as though the other students in my film class didn't like the movie, or couldn't follow it, I strangely enjoyed Breathless.

There were several aspects of the film I enjoyed, and a lot of it had to do with the editing style. Godard included jerky cuts and lopped off any excess shots of in-between movements, creating a film that you have to piece together in your mind. I really like the style, because it forces the casual movie-watcher to analyze the film and consciously understand what is going on. I also really enjoyed the disjointed dialogue between the two main characters (a French criminal and an American student living in Paris), which was somewhat surreal in a whimsical way. It had no real impact on the outcome of the story and added no meaning to anything, but it was at least humorous.

Even though I enjoyed the movie for its artistic merit, I probably would not recommend it for general audiences. It takes too much attention and thought to watch just for fun, but is entertaining in an unconventional sense that I really appreciated.

Mise en Scene in "Do the Right Thing"

There are many approaches to discussing mise en scene in Do the Right Thing, but I think the color on the film's set was my favorite aspect. There seemed to be multidimensional purpose for Spike Lee's choice in colors of costumes, props, and setting. The yellow tones and punches of red color conveyed the physical temperature of the scenes, yet also seemed to have deeper symbolic meanings.

Do the Right Thing takes place on a Brooklyn street in the middle of a summer heatwave. Spike Lee captured this feeling of extreme heat partially through the use of theatrically bright and vivid colors on costumes, props, and buildings. For example, there are several scenes of a group of three men sitting against an unnaturally bright red wall, which had been painted that color specifically for the film. I think this was able to establish the tone of the film and force the audience to almost feel the heat themselves.

I think the setting of a sweltering summer day (and Lee's achievement in mise en scene to convey that heat) was ideal for the situations presented in the film. The plot addresses intense racial tension and anger that eventually erupts in riots and murder, similar to an extreme heatwave.

Do the Right Thing

Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing was one of the best movies I have seen in a long time. The cinematography, set design, acting, dialogue, and loose plot were so original that it caught me completely offguard. This was the first Spike Lee "joint" I had seen, and it far exceeded my expectations.

Every aspect of this film was amazing to me. I really appreciate when film directors and writers step outside the box to create unique movies, and Lee did this to the fullest extent. I loved how he was able to capture the atmosphere of a heated (weather-wise and emotionally) New York City neighborhood in the midst of racial tension. Lee's expertise was able to transform a seemingly average day-in-the-life of a pizza delivery boy into a complex exploration of the struggles of racism in America. He presented these issues with a cinematographic style that made Do The Right Thing a real work of art in addition to being a social commentary.

Acting in The Godfather

Acting can be the deciding factor in determining the authenticity of a film's mise en scene. Most general audiences are focused on the actors, whose abilities are critical to how emotionally involved we become. Obviously, all the aspects of mise en scene must cohesively bring about the "reality" of the film, but the acting ability of Marlon Brando in The Godfather was extraordinary in bringing the story to life.

Marlon Brando was incredible in his portrayal as Don Corleone, a role which won him a Best Actor Academy Award. Obviously, I believe this award was extremely well-deserved. I have seen him act in many movies, and in The Godfather he was able to once again completely transform his appearance and personality to an unbelievable level. Although at the onset of the movie, it was hard to ignore that it was just Brando acting (because of his star-stature), but after a couple minutes of sliding into the film's reality, it was just "Don Corleone" on screen to me. I thought his idea to use a mouthpiece to alter his voice (he originally used cotton wool stuffed into his cheeks during his screen tests) was very intelligent. It muffled his normal voice and made him sound slightly older, a good choice to play the mob boss. The appearance of the mouth-piece also separated the audience from the real Marlon Brando and molded him into a completely alternate figure, who only exists in the film. In hindsight, it was incredible how comfortable Brando seemed in the role of Don Corleone. Although perhaps insignificant in relation to the overall plot, the scene where Corleone is sitting in the chair stroking a cat, while simultaneously planning the illegal mob activity, is probably one of my favorites. Brando is able to juxtapose warmth and affection with the cruel reality of his characters' existence, all by just sitting comfortably in a chair. Overall, I don't think I could imagine anyone completing the mise en scene of The Godfather the way Marlon Brando did.

The Godfather

My expectations for The Godfather were obviously extremely high, since its widely considered to be possibly the best film ever made. So I was obviously surprised to have conflicting opinions on the film. While I appreciated the obvious achievement in film making, I don't think it will ever be one of my favorite movies.

I'm going to start off with what I did love about the movie. I think it would have been far too easy for a lot of these characters to be static and stereotypical roles, but I was surprised to find the portrayals of the Italian mafia were extremely dynamic and multidimensional. I'm not going to rave about Marlon Brando, because that would take me far too long, so I am going to focus more on Al Pacino as Michael Corleone. Besides Ocean's Thirteen (which I don't think really counts), this was the first time I ever saw Al Pacino in a movie, and it was certainly an impressive introduction to his talents. He was able to portray a myriad of emotions with a mostly stoic facial expression. (side note: I was also shocked at how good-looking Al Pacino used to be! I never would have guessed.) I also really appreciated the complexity of the interesting plot, which was able to hold my attention for the full length of the [very long] movie. I became so involved that I never even tried to guess what was going to happen, although in hindsight it wouldn't have mattered if I had tried. It definitely was anything but predictable.

The reason this would never be my favorite movie is because I was very distracted by the negative portrayal of women in The Godfather. Every female character was either manipulated by their husband, physically or verbally abused, or completely unable to have a sense of free will. Diane Keaton's character Kay patiently waited years for Michael to come home, had two seconds of independent thought when she questioned the methods of the Corleone family, but was immediately labeled as naive and then accepted his marriage proposal. Obviously Connie Corleone/Rizzi was abused by her husband, but never was able to leave her husband, and had to be defended by her brother. Mrs. Corleone is hardly ever even present, unless she's serving a meal. Michael's first wife Apollionia is portrayed first as a silent object, then a ridiculous child ("Watch me drive! Come on!"). In the scheme of the film-making mastery, this may be only a minor flaw, but it bothered me enough that this definitely won't be one of my favorite movies (although now I understand why it's considered such a "guy movie")

The Horror!

The first time I saw Apocalypse Now was in a high school AP Literature class. We had just finished reading Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and were comparing it to this film interpretation of the novel. However, I re-watched the movie last night, and "the horror" of Captain Willard's physical and psychological descent into the jungles of Vietnam felt raw. Instead of objectively focusing on literary elements of the plot, I was free to become emotionally involved in the film and appreciate cinematographic elements.

It was interesting (and terrifying) to witness the situations and characters slowly intensifying in absurdity and bizarreness as Willard approached Kurtz's domain. At first it appeared as if the writers and director were just employing some black humor, like when Lieutenant Kilgore was discussing surfing conditions with bombs exploding and people screaming in the obliterated Vietnamese village behind him. I was caught off guard by almost laughing in the midst of such horrendous violence. It seemed as though a lot of the intention of the filmmakers was to bring attention to the absurdity of war. Now that I really think about it, Apocalypse Now probably has more in common with Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse-Five than Conrad's Heart of Darkness (at least in terms of parallel themes).

But it only got more horrifying, with a crescendo of violence with the simultaneous murder of Kurtz and the sacrificial cow. I walked out of the room after the movie feeling as if part of my soul had been sucked out. That seems a little dramatic, but the imagery in Apocalypse Now is that extreme. There was a unique approach to portraying violence in this film. Instead of characters being immobilized by disgust, violence is just an expected part of their work. Willard is able to carry on a calm, seemingly normal conversation with the half-naked body of a local man hanging in the background. It is almost impossible to convey in words just how disturbing this movie is...I don't think i have a big enough vocabulary. I don't want to discourage anyone from watching this movie because it is worthwhile in the addresses psychological issues such as war, morality, and the human capacity for violence. Just be very careful if you have a weak stomach!

A Cinematographical Look at Le Scaphandre et le Papillon

Each shot in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was so beautifully crafted that it was truly art in motion. At times, I was almost pulled out of the movie illusion because certain scenes were so captivating visually that I wanted to stop and analyze it artistically. Despite those occasional moments, the cinematography contributes to, or rather creates, the poignant emotion in the film and draws the audience in to the world of Jean-Dominique Bauby.

One truly remarkable scene was a flashback taking place in Bauby's mind, taking the audience back to the day of his stroke. He is in Paris, and is driving away from his apartment in a brand new car. The scene shows the face of Bauby's wife, then actually transitions into her point of view (I believe this is the first time it is the first-hand perspective of anyone besides Jean-Do) as she watches him drive away. Instead of typical pan shot following a car driving away, the camera tilts until it is completely horizontal. It recreates the exact perspective of the wife as she was standing on the balcony looking down and leaning out to keep the car in view as it speeds off. To me, the shot seemed to have several layers of meaning. Because it was shot from the perspective of Bauby's wife and lasted until the car was out of sight, it seemed to reinforce the alienation between them that began on that day. Also, the unexpected twist of the camera was almost a foreshadowing of the abrupt nature of the stroke he was about to experience.

There are many examples in this film of excellence in cinematography, but this one scene seems a fair representation of the careful consideration put into each shot. Not only was this film aesthetically pleasing, but each moment of artful camera work had a clear purpose of conveying the emotional struggles of Jean-Do.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I first heard about this movie during the time of the last academy awards, when it was nominated for achievements in directing, cinematography, editing, and writing. This emotional true story about Jean-Dominique Bauby's struggles with "locked-in syndrome" definitely lived up to its award-season hype.

One of the first unique and intriguing aspects of this film is the use of subjective point of view shots that dominate the film. The way those scenes were shot helped me relate to the frustration Bauby felt as a result of his paralysis. The shots are incredibly exact to Jean-Do's vision...the screen would even slowly blur as tears filled his eyes and blocked his sight. Also, the camera would remain fixed while actors moved around it, which portrayed his inability to move his head and follow them. This amazing technique really helped me understand and personally feel the despair and distress of a stroke victim.

I think Mathieu Amalric gave an incredible performance Jean-Dominique Bauby. Instead of being allowed to convey emotion through body language and speech, he only had one eye he was allowed to move! Somehow, maybe through movement and blinking patterns, I was almost able to know what Jean-Do was thinking. I can't imagine the difficulty of the role. Also, I believe the character of Jean-Do's father (or "Papinou"), played by Max von-Sydow, is also worth praise. At first we see the father as a witty and loving old man, and later his emotional break-down as he talks to his paralyzed son over the telephone. His genuine emotion was incredibly stirring.

The imagery in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was so beautiful and meaningful in its symbolism. My favorite scenes are when it cuts to Bauby hanging in a great empty space of water, trapped inside his diving bell...it really drives at the true nature of his terrible syndrome. However, to counter that dragging feeling, later there are airy and light scenes following a butterfly as his imagination develops and his spirit is uplifted. The montage scenes of Bauby's memory and imagination are beautiful in their randomness, and really make this film unique.

Psycho: The Remake (1998)

I have rarely ever enjoyed a remake of a good film, and, unfortunately, the 1998 remake of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho was not an exception. Gus Van Sant's worthy goal of trying to bring a classic film to a younger generation resulted in just cheapening the masterpiece. He was trying to reinterpret the Psycho plot through color, quickened pace, and stylistic differences in acting. However, he copied Hitchcock's film almost shot-for-shot cinematographically and nearly line-for-line. There was not a bold enough deviance from the original to be able to judge the 1998 film independentally, and so Van Sant's film simply fell short as a reflection of Psycho.

One of the first distracting aspects of this remake is the color scheme. The original version depended on important color symbolism that used shades of black and white, and Van Sant's film did (I think) attempt at continuing that idea. However, the color and pattern choices of wardrobe and set design were so outrageously mismatched with bright oranges and greens screaming out at the audience that I was almost too distracted to think about anything else. The intention may have had significance, but I would rather have no symbolism than have it blaring from the screen.

The 1998 movie also seemed to move at a speedier pace than the 1960 one. While the introductory bedroom scene in Hitchcock's film set up the relationship between Marion and Sam (which in turn created a motive for later stealing the cash and helped the audience sympathize with the doomed Marion), Van Sant's Psycho sped through it. After the few choppy minutes they spent together in the movie, I'm suprised audiences didn't completely forget about Sam as a character! Whether due to the flippancy of Anne Heche's line delivery or the fast editing of the scene, neither character seemed dedicated to marriage...especially not to the point of major theft.

All in all, I felt too many little unique aspects of Hitchock's original Psycho were compromised by Van Sant in the attempt to rejuvinate the film for a younger audience. Things that made Psycho so great, like the long, drawn out scenes that provoked anxiety and discomfort in the audience, and the unpredictable nature of the story (I think its far too easy to realize that Vince Vaughn's Norman is the "psycho" dressing up like a woman) are completely absent. It may have been good as a cheap thriller, or even for a laugh, but it definitely was not a creative or insightful interpretation.

Psycho (1960)

It is amazing that one of this film's most shocking sequences ("The Shower" scene) has become instantaneously recognizable, yet still can surprise a first time viewer. Despite my previous knowledge of one of the most important developments in the plot (I was already aware that the film's protagonist, Marion, would eventually be murdered in the shower), this film was so well-crafted that I nonetheless experienced terror and complete disbelief when the moment finally came. While my reaction was probably slightly less terrified than the original first 1960's audience, we most likely shared the confusion caused by the untimely and completely unexpected timing of Marion Crane's death. As I watched her step into the shower I remember internally calculating the length of the movie, because there was no way Hitchcock would kill her off already! He can't do that! The heroine is supposed to live at least three-quarters of the movie! I can only imagine what it would have been like to see this film without its content having already been ingrained in our culture.

I did enjoy being able to piece together the parts of the story that, sadly, I already knew (which were also the most important twists in the plot: the shower scene, the revelation of Norman's psychotic tendencies) and the parts that actually explained the rest of the story. Throughout my first viewing of Psycho I admit I was distracted by the seemingly unexplained and random events, such as Marion stealing a large sum of cash from her employer. Only after watching the movie a second time did I realize Hitchcock purposefully avoided situations that would obviously foreshadow these events or hint at things to come, which is almost expected by movie audiences. No one could guess the first time around that Marion would actually steal the cash, because nothing in her countenance or attitude gave it away. Hitchcock wanted the viewer to be just as surprised as her boss, and even she, was! It is a masterful move on the director's part, which keeps the audience surprised instead of expecting.

While many critics have apparently decided on a "slasher" label for Hitchcock's Psycho, I think its multidimensional and character-driven plot are too deep for that shallow genre. One of the most surprising elements of this film is that instead of always hating Norman Bates (whose creeper attitude and violent acts would typically invoke that reaction), I often sympathized with his character. For example, when he is cleaning up the bathroom after Marion's murder, I admit I felt a twinge of anxiety that he would miss some piece of evidence...even though earlier I had felt more loyalty to Marion's character! This happens again when Norman pushes the car containing all the evidence into the swamp and watches as it stalls in its descent. Clearly, Psycho is not a typical "slasher" film, but contains important and complex emotions that shape the film into a masterpiece.