I'm so happy that even the snobbiest of cinephiles are no longer too embarrassed to admit that the 1990s were, in many respects, "Peak Cinema". While I would never use that banal phrase to describe anything, you know that I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment; I was never so self-assured as to single out the decade for which I had the most "movie nostalgia" but now that there's been a sorta ongoing objective reappraisal of its merits, I didn't hesitate to jump on that bandwagon. And since you're taking the time to come here and read this, I know that you're one of the ones who also agrees with that assessment. So, that means I don't have to puke out five paragraphs about what made the 90s da bomb, because you & I already know all the reasons by heart. Of course, I think this epiphany grew out of the realization that movies as of late seem to be of a different "quality", and because there has yet to be unanimous acceptance in that final stage of grief, I don't think we're ready to have that conversation. (Not again, at least.) Though I don't think I'm stirring the pot too much when I point out that one of the girthiest lead balloons that we tolerate in today's climate is... The Remake.
Oh yes, they existed in the 90s. They've existed in just about every decade actually, but they used to hold a lot more weight - like a committee would have to predetermine its cultural impact before it got the green light. (Maybe not literally but it was a much bigger deal, and a lot more infrequent.) And yet, while no movie comes out of the system without the intent to make a profit, the remakes of yesteryear seemed to be much less of the transparent "cash grab" that we're so used to today; while filmmakers in the 1990s were reheating their own nostalgia in the same way 21st Century filmmakers do, stuff like Mighty Joe Young and That Darn Cat weren't exactly surefire bets. Honestly, pushing the Family Films aside, most of the grownup movie remakes of the 1990s were of Foreign Films - always noticeably dumbed down for American audiences. But since your Average Joe never saw Profumo di donna or La Cage aux Folles, no one outside of The National Board of Review was gonna make these pesky comparisons between the original and the remake. But when it came to stuff like Cape Fear or even The Nutty Professor, it was a big play - so big that very very few high profile titles were desecrated throughout the decade. In fact, it's quite possible that Gus Van Sant's Psycho remake was the biggest swing of the era.
The 1990s had a handful of ambitious sequels (Godfather III certainly drew a lot of attention) and a ton of TV show adaptations (The Fugitive arguably being the most successful, and Mission: Impossible the one with the most longevity), but mostly it was the decade of book adaptations - particularly the first half of the 90s. But as the second half unfolded, post-Pulp Fiction, when "originality" started to become the chic thing, organic ideas that started from scratch were suddenly no longer just an "Indie" approach - it seemed to be what audiences actually wanted. Screenwriters and screenplays were now part of the conversation as they became the obvious driving force behind "groundbreakers" like Fargo, Boogie Nights, The Truman Show, Rushmore, and Good Will Hunting. That was the sorta soft Renaissance we're talking about when we talk about 90s Cinema - when we only wanted to be surprised and inspired by something new, and anything that fell short of that was labeled "derivative" and "predictable". We were in a groove that almost seems alien to us by today's standards; the thought of rehashing something old, especially a Classic, could only be taken as lazy. Then why, given the mood in the room, did Gus Van Sant, now a legitimate A-lister, remake the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock movie Psycho?
His famous response that we've all read a thousand times was, "So no one else would have to." It's a cheeky answer to an honest question and he took a lotta shit for it. He took a lotta shit for the whole thing - there was no market demand for a Psycho remake and no one was openly "looking forward to it" when its production was announced. I, for one, was seeing as much as I could at the time, and I was shamelessly excited for each new movie that came out each new weekend, and Psycho was no different. Heck, I think I was particularly more excited to see it than a lotta the other stuff coming out at that moment - everything I'd read about it in Entertainment Weekly made it seem like a really cool idea (including a half a cast of Boogie Nights alumni to entice me further). So on a cold grey Saturday morning in early December of 1998 I sat in a cold dark theater in Fitchburg and watched Psycho - big as life, in color, and loud as hell. I knew everything that was going to happen, and I knew nothing of what was going to happen.
I thought the movie itself was just as fascinating as the idea behind making it. I studied every frame, every gesture, every line delivery, every wardrobe and set decoration choice, all like a game of I Spy; it's one of the most interactive experiences I've ever had with a film. And on that most superficial level, the movie was entirely, as the squares say, "entertaining", but underneath that I feel like it also did all the things it set out to do - plus extra. The word that's forever chained to this movie is "experiment", which very quickly evolved into "failed experiment", but I never understood the "failed" part. What was the failure? Better yet, what would the "successful experiment" look like? It totally achieved whatever I was looking to get from it, which was nothing more than the literal plot synopsis you'd find in a TV Guide: "Shot-for-shot remake of the 1960 Hitchcock classic." It never pretended to be anything else, and for some people, that was enough for them to simply disregard the movie's existence. But then there were those who did see it, and their biggest takeaway from the entire picture was that it should've never existed at all.
To "review" this movie, or to have any feelings about it at all, definitely requires a different perspective than one might use to assess most other films; people have a pretty narrow view of what movies (especially "good" movies) are supposed to be, and it doesn't leave a lotta room for risky abstractions. After all, what traditional observations can I really make about it? "Excellent script, very suspenseful, great music score." The foundation is already built, and the rest follows an established blueprint that can't miss. So really, what does that leave? Casting. After all is said and done, it's really the easiest thing about it to analyze, discuss, critique - though even still, it's just another layer that makes it all the more engrossing.
It really is a movie for people who are interested in Film and Filmmaking, but perhaps even more than that, it's a textured crash course in acting; to be able to compare and contrast the different performances is something anyone can examine and even enjoy, but the juggling act of everyone trying to bring something new while also trying to hit their marks to match the rhythms of the original is extremely fun to watch - even when it kinda sucks. Case in point: Vince Vaughn. I don't think anyone championed that casting decision, and then he went ahead and did nothing in his performance to win anyone over. (I can't remember if it was Siskel or Ebert who said Jeremy Davies would've been a better choice, but that suggestion has stayed with me for nearly three decades.) Nevertheless, in most people's eyes there was no way to match the original in quality, let alone improve upon it - but again, those people are evaluating it in all the wrong ways. Having Vince Vaughn and Anne Heche as the leads in your movie is the most "1998" thing they could've done, and only in hindsight can it be interpreted as a crafty move (intentional or not).
I think we all enjoy that game of choosing who would play who in the hypothetical remake of ________. It's only when we're faced with the reality of these movies actually being remade that the game is usually more fun on paper than it is on the screen. In the case of Psycho, I feel like all the bit parts and side characters were all perfectly or interestingly cast in the remake in such a way to perpetuate the momentum of the novelty. As far as the leads go, I always thought William H. Macy and Julianne Moore understood the assignment best (I know Macy openly idolized Martin Balsam outside of this project). And if there's ever been one element of this remake that I liked more than the original, it's the casting of Robert Forster. I never liked the Psychologist monologue at the end - to my understanding it's never been popular with a lotta people. But I never really held Simon Oakland's performance at fault - he had an immense amount of clunky exposition to sell to a 1960 audience, but even through that lens it's still such a drag. Oakland brought a theatricality to his scene as though he were trying to match the energy of the movie's real climax - I can only assume the scene was simply directed that way. With Robert Forster, I do know he had to accelerate his read to match the original's runtime, but whatever adjustments he made to his monologue didn't seem to hinder it in any way. Really what it comes down to is that if Robert Forster is in your movie, there's a good chance he might be the best thing about it.
Other than all the obvious "as advertised" changes (different actors, in color, etc.), the other controversial alterations (or desecrations to most) were some surrealistic cutaways during the two onscreen murder scenes. It's some otherwise inexplicable imagery that's definitely jarring, with its only shock value being, "Hey, that doesn't belong there!" But again, it's another partially/completely intentional timestamp to indicate: Yes, this was made in 1998. I seriously can't remember but I'm sure 15-year-old me was totally turned on by a bit of absurd non sequiturs in this otherwise straight-laced remake. "Here's where Arbogast falls backwards down the stairs. Also, look at this cow." This aesthetic was so very much in the air at the time, but was also indicative to Gus's style, so I'm here to say I'm cool with all that stuff.
I'm cool with the whole thing, that's my point. No one ever wants to admit they don't "get" something - especially the people who hated this movie, they're too angry to think straight. But they certainly wouldn't see it as something to "get" because it's really not that cerebral - and in that respect they're right. So maybe it's better to say that they "missed the point" - critics and audiences were treating it like a regular remake which, by 1998 standards, was admittedly blasphemous. But it so very clearly wasn't regular - that palpable audacity that angered so many people is the very thing that qualifies it as one of the most original(!) entires of the late 90s. Certainly the three Psycho sequels and a string of several novels and a TV movie in 1987 and a TV series in the 2010s didn't draw this much resentment - why not? Because they were all as good or better than the Hitchcock movie? No, because none of them had that pesky "Remake" stigma that's only become more putrid over the years, and so instead we get "Soft Reboots" of Halloween and "Sequels" to Beetlejuice and "Prequels" to Friday the 13th and "Spinoffs" from the STAR WARS "Universe". More in the vein of the Psycho remake, we've seen "visual homages" to things like Silence of the Lambs and The Shining, and by contrast I find that specific approach to be entirely cowardly. So, if nothing else, I'd call the '98 Psycho "brave".
To reiterate, this film transcends most of the traditional "review" criteria because it's attempting to do things that aren't normally done in this medium. Paintings get repainted as exact replicas for the purpose of mass consumption. Songs are covered by other bands or artists, and while the notes remain generally the same there's usually some margin of interpretation. But to take this approach with a motion picture was sure to generate that public response of "Why?" - and to expand on Gus's response of "So no one else would have to," I think we all know that we would've seen some other form of a Psycho adaptation in the past 25 years, probably made by one of the usual Horror Remake hacks, and it would've caused a very mild stir, and we would've moved on. But with this, we instead have something to talk about (as long as you're not one of the people to impulsively dismiss it). Back in '98 I gave it a handwritten letter grade of a solid B without citing any reasons (I never did), so trying to recreate my own perspective from 28 years ago, I think I can say that I was fully fascinated by the experience, but I had no real desire to revisit it as part of my rewatch rotation. Watching it again recently, that grade (and that evaluation) still holds up.
- Paul
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