“You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand,” or “Psycho killer, run, run, run away.”
I never went through a serial killer / true crime phase. A lot of people do and I never really understood it. I never really tapped into that dark side of myself like others have. I’ve never been obsessed with the psychology of how sociopaths tick. I never wanted to read the grisly details of a Manson Family murder or peruse the contents of Jeffrey Dahmer’s refrigerator. As a youngster, I was terrified during the Nighstalker’s reign of terror. Like many, the prospect of being one of Richard Ramirez’s random victims scared the you-know-what out of me. What I didn’t want to do was to delve deeper into his psyche, learning as much as I could about the madman out of a morbid curiosity. As a result, I’ve never been a big fan of a certain kind of horror film. While I have recently become an aficionado of psychological, supernatural, and thrilling horror films, the gory “slasher” films still have no appeal. There are very few films that truly capture the trope of the serial killer in three dimensions; these three come to mind, oddly, all from the same year.
Purple Noon (1960, René Clément)
Other than a few select fans of foreign crime thrillers, most people wouldn’t know about Purple Noon. However, if I was to mention The Talented Mr. Ripley, well, that’s another story. Except that it’s the same story. Yes, Purple Noon is based on Patricia Highsmith’s popular novel about the sociopathic Ripley, a story that was later given higher profile by director Anthony Minghella and star Matt Damon. For this earlier version, Clément chose the equally magnetic Alain Delon to play the lead role and one can’t help, with the burden of time, to compare the two performances.
Delon plays Ripley as a more jovial, and conversely, more vengeful person. Damon’s Ripley seems more obviously disturbed, which can be incredibly effective, but there is something even more creepy about the killer who can act just like everyone else with ease. That’s the real motivation behind Highsmith’s character, a guy who is sent on a mission to bring back a wealthy man’s heir, but is caught up in the lifestyle so much, he can’t bear to let it go, willing to kill for the privilege. It is also motivated by revenge, when Philippe Greenleaf, played here by Maurice Ronet, is excessively cruel to Ripley, stranding him in a dinghy and leaving him to brave the elements. Of course, Ripley finds out that murder isn’t as neat and tidy as he had expected, having to eliminate those who might suspect anything, such as friend Freddie Miles, and then be obsessive about the details.
Though Ripley may not technically be a serial killer, one can surely call him a sociopath. He seems to show little remorse for his actions, if any, and is readily willing to kill again to achieve his goals. Purple Noon is not necessarily a movie that inspires primal fear, but instead is a psychological portrait of a less dramatized, more true-to-life killer. Ripley doesn’t wear a mask or jump out of the shadows at people, but instead meticulously plans and connives his way into people’s lives, ready to go to extremes for what he wants.
Peeping Tom (1960, Michael Powell)
The title of this film should already tip you off to the notion that voyeurism is a central part of the main character’s psychosis. Mark Lewis is a photographer who works for the aptly named newspaper, The Observer. On the side, he photographs scantily clad women for underground dirty magazines. He also likes to meet with prostitutes and film them while he kills them, visually capturing their last breaths. Mark often reviews the films of his exploits in his secret viewing room, reliving the experiences again and again. The secret room holds quite a few films, and we can only assume they are all unsavory. As in the case with most portrayals of disturbed killers, Mark is shy, awkward, and reserved. He’d rather simply watch than interact.
After being invited to a party by his comely downstairs neighbor, Helen, he begins to slightly open up, revealing to her, through a somewhat disturbing film of another sort, that he was the subject of his psychologist father’s experiments on fear. He was woken up in the middle of the night and had large lizards thrown in his bed, as one illustrative example. Mark ends up paired with another girl on a film set and she flirts with him, dancing for him without realizing she is facing her inevitable death. Mark is so obsessed with observing fear, which his father instilled in him, that he cannot bring himself to leave the crime scene, instead capturing the entire drama on film as inspectors get ever closer to the truth.
Those in the know realize that Mark suffers from scopophilia, or the morbid urge to gaze, though they mispronounce it as scoptophilia. Regardless, Carl Boehm, the actor who plays Mark, gives a riveting performance as the voyeuristic killer. When he says to Helen, “whatever I photograph is taken away from me,” he evokes sympathy, even though we know he is fairly cuckoo-bananas. Again, it is not a case of being wronged as a teen at a summer camp or even being an inbred psycho. Instead, Peeping Tom portrays another gripping and frank portrayal of a severely damaged individual.
Psycho (1960, Alfred Hitchcock)
Hitchcock was prolific and while there might not be a singular film that can represent his body of work, Psycho might be at the top of most people’s lists as his signature masterpiece. Based on the case of Ed Gein, Psycho is truly one of the most terrifying films ever made, providing just as many scares today as it most likely did over 50 years ago. Everything about Psycho was groundbreaking. First we have Janet Leigh, our thieving antihero, whom we follow from the beginning, and can only assume we will continue to follow, only to find out otherwise. Hitchcock takes us through her affair, embezzlement, and other morally troubling acts, convincing us that we should be invested in this character. As she is followed by a sheriff and attempts to trade cars in order to elude him, we feel her panic and start to sympathize with her, just in time to be introduced to the true central character, Norman Bates.
Anthony Perkins played Norman so well that he had an inordinately hard time finding other roles. Like Mark Lewis, Norman likes to watch. He is quick to put Marion in cabin one as it abuts his office, with a strategically placed peephole. With Psycho, we see two more usual signs of sociopathic behavior, taxidermy and mother issues. Stuffed birds are scattered all around Norman’s room, gazing, swooping, and preying, just like him. Norman argues with his mother numerous times, denigrating the loose women to whom Norman finds himself attracted.
Three of the most frightening scenes in all of film history are ensconced within Psycho. The shower scene is not just terrifying; it is also downright artistic. Consisting of three minutes, 50 cuts, and filmed in 77 angles (though that discrepancy doesn’t make much sense unless we’re counting cutting room floor scraps), the shower scene has been parodied, studied, analyzed, and admired again and again. Today, the scene would have been made much bloodier, without adding much to the mix. In other words, it is perfect as it is. The overhead shot of Detective Milton Arbogast’s death is easily among my top five scariest moments on film. I jump every single time. The last scene is the denouement, which I can simply mention to those who have seen it, and, as Hitchcock wished while it was in theaters, be mum about the actual contents.
Unlike Ed Gein, Norman could actually be classified as a serial killer, having killed three plus people. Gein killed two, which though brutal and disturbing doesn’t fit the definition. Psycho isn’t the first serial killer film. Heck, it’s not even Hitchcock’s first serial killer film. It is, however, one of the best examples of the modern day serial killer, never repeated, though often attempted, not even with a shot for shot remake that was nothing short of questionable. I’ve watched a lot of horror movies recently, as I’ve made myself somewhat immune to their machinations, but Psycho, along with The Shining, The Thing, and The Exorcist, will always give me the proverbial heebie-jeebies.
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