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sexta-feira, 11 de setembro de 2015

Psycho, review

Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho
Hitchcock's mischievous genius for audience manipulation is everywhere: in the noirish angularity of the cinematography, in his use of Bernard Herrmann's stabbing string score, in the ornithological imagery that creates a bizarre sense of preying and being preyed upon. Was he also subconsciously warming up for his next project, The Birds?
The creatures are everywhere in Psycho, from the aerial shots, to Marion's surname, to the town where the action begins (Phoenix), to the hideous taxidermy looming on Norman's walls, and even his world-view. "I think that we're all in our private traps," says Norman (the terrifying, touching Anthony Perkins). "We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch."
The audience is similarly helpless in Hitchcock's "trap" – but you wouldn't have it any other way.

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