08.11.1994
First Lady of Horror

Janet Leigh talks about cutting, shooting, and working with "Hitch"

by Kathleen McInnis

http://www.moviemaker.com/ directing/article/first_lady_of_horror_3089/

It may have been Norma Shearer who was credited with "discovering" her when she signed with MGM in 1946, but it was Janet Leigh's shocking performance in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho which won her an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress in 1960 and became the most immediately identifiable role of her career.

The "grandmother" of splatter films, Psycho was one of the first mainstream movies to depart from the traditional use of mere suggestion of graphic horror and to use, instead, specific graphic presentation. No longer was the horror imagined off-screen; Psycho meant no more restrained style. With an emphasis on character, Hitchcock placed the monster squarely within the normalcy of everyday life. Our primal fears were realized as the manifestations of good were inextricably linked with the manifestations of evil.

In the almost 35 years since Psycho first slashed its way into movie history, its leading lady has continued on with a remarkable film career. Yet none of Leigh's roles have had the lasting impact of Psycho- a fact made all the more unusual because her character is dead only one third of the way into the film. "Hitchcock had the whole audience going in one direction, and then he'd say 'Hah, hah, fooled you,' and your leading lady is knocked off. No one can ever believe it," marveled Leigh as she likened the director's work to a magician's slight of hand. "That's why it was essential that he use someone who had already been established, not a newcomer because that wouldn't have been a shock. But when you have someone whose name appears above the title sometimes and they're knocked off, then that's really a shock."

Leigh is in the process of writing a book about the phenomenon Psycho created on the collective American psyche as well as its impact on those around her during filming. She is a generous woman who shares the same fascination with the film as her audience. She is absolutely adamant when insisting she has never taken a shower since her first viewing of the film - not because making it was scary, but because "watching it frightened me so." She remembers the shooting of Psycho with great interest and clarity, and is enthralled with the idea that with each generation a new audience rediscovers the film. Leigh squirms with delight at the discovery of seeing something new during what must be her millionth viewing of the film, and she uses the experience to define the levels Hitchcock created in his films - "that's how deep he went in planting his seed," she confides in amazement.

"For Hitch, before the picture began, his challenge had already been met. It was then just a question of transferring his planned shots to the screen - in other words it was a technical matter really, because his camera was already set," explained Leigh. "He had mockups of every scene; to-scale miniatures of wild walls so he would know where he could strike a wall... he knew how he was going to use his camera to build the scene... he practically cut the film in his camera. And there's a reason for this: because when he first started, before he had the autonomy he gained later, he had been hurt by some producer coming in and re-cutting a film he had made. So he said 'I'll fix them. I won't give them any film to play with.' Instead of shooting the normal way - which is first doing the master shot, then the two-shot, then over-the-shoulders, and then the close-up, all of which give a lot of leeway in how a picture could be cut - you can even change the intent of the picture - he didn't do any of that. He moved his camera and the camera was where he wanted it to be at the time he wanted it. So there was very little editing to do, and that's how he got around producers who wanted to have some say (in cutting the film). It had already been worked out in his mind exactly what the shot was going to be. It was very easy for him to do, so the set was very relaxed. Even though the content was very dark, that didn't reflect the set. When it was time to work, you worked. In between scenes it was very congenial; he might tell me a dirty joke or something and then his assistant would come up and say 'It's time, Mr. Hitchcock,' and he'd say 'Fine, let's roll 'em', and I'd be 'Hey! Wait a minute - you just told me a very funny joke and I don't think that's the mood you want me to be in when I'm supposed to be stealing forty thousand dollars!'"

Janet Leigh, circa 1959

Seven days and seventy-one set ups for the most famous shower scene in moviedom; some of the shots survived the cutting room for only two seconds of glory on screen. Hitchcock may have choreographed every camera angle, but even he couldn't predict what Leigh's hair would do as she executed her death slide down the tiled shower wall. Nor could he foresee the awkward angle she would land at when she clutched the shower curtain on the way down. "You don't choose your position in death," chuckled Leigh. "It just happened to work." Even the moleskin used to cover Leigh during the (very) hot water shower scene had a mind of it's own. "Everything was going well, really super when all of a sudden the moleskin steamed away from my body," remembers Leigh with a chuckle. "What do you do? You have to get the take!"

Technically difficult, the individual scenes which made up the shower montage were hard on both Leigh and the crew. With no automatic focus available for the camera, all focusing work had to be by hand as the camera was moving. Since the crew was intent on moving the dolly at the correct speed, it was left to Hitchcock to snap his fingers when Leigh was out of camera range so she could blink safely. "It was a lot of takes," sighed Leigh. "Either the focus screwed up, or I blinked too soon, or the grip didn't move at the right pace, or something went wrong. Even though the screen time was short for those scenes, it took a lot of time getting ready; a lot of scaffolding and a lot of setting up time. I was once asked which take was used for the close-up of my face on the floor. There were so many, I'm gong to have to find out - because I'm sure it wasn't the first or even the second!"

"I was lucky in that I got to shoot the shower scene in sequence; it was unusual to do it like that, but I appreciated it a great deal," she continued. "I know there was a time when the New York and method actors would pooh-pooh Hollywood and say 'Oh, they're not really acting.' I always wanted to say 'up yours, baby' because I bet they couldn't do what we have to do! We never had the luxury of starting a play at eight o'clock and going straight through; finishing all your high points in straight order. You try finding your motivation when you start filming the end of the picture on the first day!

"For some actors it was difficult (working with Hitchcock) because as performers they felt they needed freedom for their choices. Really, because Hitchcock's camera was so important to him, he had to be meticulous in what he asked for. Using the mirror during the car buying scene to indicate a split personality; having Tony's (Perkins) reflection in the window show the duality, and the clues to the mystery ... even the bird image throughout the film (the name Crane and the city of Phoenix); this is how Hitch led his audience on a path at the end of which was whatever they wanted to see."

The impact of Hitchcock's filmmaking is so strong for fans of Psycho that they will insist they can see red blood in the shower scene, or the knife penetrating Leigh's naked body. Most can even tell you the exact set of circumstances surrounding the first time they saw the film. Yet Leigh insists they couldn't have seen what they think they saw; it's simply much scarier and much sexier because of the power Hitchcock instilled in their (the audience's) imagination. "That's what the power of imagination can do for you. Because there were the censors, and you couldn't show blood, and you couldn't show nudity, and you couldn't show penetration of a weapon. It was against, well, against the movie law. It was the power that he instilled in the imagination. Even in the music, the power was so carefully planted. That power which has now been lost, because now that you can show everything the audience doesn't have to imagine anything. I think the audience is cheated. They're not given the wonderful luxury of imagining."

© 2008 MovieMaker Magazine

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