Psycho (Hitchcock, 1960) - 65th Anniversary

Sixty-five years of Psycho

Psycho is a masterclass in tension: it doesn’t just tell a story, it immerses you into a disturbing world where nothing is as it seems.

Written by Giorgia Cattaneo

On June 16th, 1960, Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece premiered in theatres. Sixty-five years later, the most famous shower scene in the world still gives us chills. But Psycho didn’t just terrify audiences: it made history – some even view it as a precursor to postmodern cinema – by breaking conventions, redefining genres, and paving the way for a new era of psychological horror.

Even those who have never seen the movie know about the iconic shower scene, when Marion (Janet Leigh), the lead character, is murdered just about 45 minutes in – a cinematic shock for that time, a bold twist that turned Hollywood storytelling upside down, preparing audiences for more unpredictable narratives. What many don’t know is how complex that moment was to shoot: even though the sequence only lasts 45 seconds, it took a full week to film and required over seventy camera setups. The blood? It was actually chocolate syrup, made to look convincingly gruesome thanks to the black-and-white cinematography. That, too, wasn’t an artistic choice but a practical one: Hitchcock feared that censors wouldn’t approve the level of violence he had in mind if it were in colour. His instincts were right, as, even in monochrome, Psycho remained a deeply controversial film for years. And what about the music? It may be surprising to learn that Hitchcock originally didn’t want any; it was only after composer Bernard Herrmann played his now-legendary string cue that the director changed his mind, later admitting that the music “was fifty percent of the effect”. Even the marketing was revolutionary: Hitchcock insisted on a strict “no late admission” policy for the film’s theatrical release, to the point that cinema lobbies even displayed cardboard cutouts of him, urging people to arrive on time or not come at all. Additionally, posters were warning them not to reveal the ending. All of this heightened the suspense and became part of the experience, adding mystique to it.

But Psycho isn’t just about one scene, nor is it a simple crime thriller: adapted from Robert Bloch’s novel (with a screenplay by Joseph Stefano), it’s a psychological descent into the mind of a deeply troubled man, exploring themes of identity, repression and desire, in ways that were unprecedented at the time.

Anthony Perkins’s portrayal of Norman Bates – an unsettlingly nuanced performance that typecast him for much of his career – is subtle, disarming, and decades ahead of its time. Rather than falling into the cliché of the “evil villain”, Perkins offers a disturbingly relatable figure, making the audience question where the line between sympathy and fear truly lies. But most of all, he’s not a supernatural being: no vampires, ghosts, creatures from other worlds – just a damaged man, shaped by trauma, hidden behind a polite smile. Hitchcock uses his characters’ madness and duality to manipulate the audience with precision: he draws us in, misleads us, and confronts us with things we’d rather not face.

On the other side, Janet Leigh is magnetic as Marion Crane, a woman desperate to rewrite her story. Though we catch her stealing a bundle of cash and fleeing town, it’s her vulnerability and inner conflict that quickly earn our empathy. As she drives deeper into isolation and paranoia, we begin to root for her redemption. And then, just as we’re fully invested in her fate, Hitchcock makes a move that redefines everything we thought we were watching: a clear sign that a new era of storytelling was beginning.

Psycho is a masterclass in tension: it doesn’t just tell a story, it immerses you into a disturbing world where nothing is as it seems. Just like in every Hitchcock movie, the director’s use of unconventional camera angles, abrupt cuts, and innovative editing techniques keeps viewers on edge, constantly unsettled and engaged.

And when the credits roll, there’s no comforting “happily ever after”. Instead, the movie leaves you with a lingering sense of unease, challenging what you thought you knew about cinema and the horror genre. No wonder it’s considered a masterpiece that reshaped the rules of filmmaking forever.

Its influence can be seen in countless works that followed, from psychological thrillers to slashers and modern horror. Directors like Brian De Palma and David Lynch have acknowledged Psycho as a milestone, but over time, its influence has extended beyond cinema, making it a cultural phenomenon that continues to resonate with audiences around the world.

Even for Hitchcock himself, it marked a turning point: produced outside the major studio system and on a relatively low budget, it became one of his greatest commercial successes, cementing his status as the “Master of Suspense” and proving that horror could be both artful and profitable.