Books: Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho by Stephen Rebello
I read a lot of books about film, and for some reason, rarely unequivocally enjoy them. I'm not sure why that is, though it plagues me more than it otherwise might because I want to write about film and want to do it in a manner that wouldn't annoy me should I happen to be someone else reading it. Rebello's chronicle of the making of Psycho (a film I adore while freely acknowledging the multitude of problems with it) is full of useful information, relatively well-researched, and interesting. He apparently had access to most of the major (living) players, who appeared to speak to him freely (even if they sometimes contradict each other, such as with Saul Bass's claim, unsupported by any other witnesses, that he directed the shower scene), and the result seems pretty definitive. It places Psycho in the context of Hitchcock's ouvre and the popular culture of the time, and provides a lot of insight into the creative process that spawned what was essentially a cheap experiment.
But one of the things I notice books like this doing is speaking in what I feel is an overly familiar tone, in the sense that the author seems to pretend he's in the room and describes the physical and emotional characteristics of the people involved in a way that puts me off. I know it's a method of avoiding saying “Hitchcock said” over and over, but “the portly director” (or similar) strikes me as an attempt at a personality I don't like. While I often want my nonfiction to display an author's intelligence behind it, it's incredibly touchy, because it's always possible the reader won't like that person. I'm not saying I don't like Stephen Rebello, but I had trouble with the author of this particular book that I can't quite put my finger on.
Though part of it is definitely what is apparently a constant of pop culture writing, and that is glaring mistakes. It is incredibly easy for an erroneous source, one that appears reputable, to propagate false information through generations of books, articles and DVD extras. Once something's written in a published source, who's to say it's not true? There wasn't a lot of that here, but two mistakes/omissions probably grabbed me because they're pets of mine: he claims that Peeping Tom bears Psycho's obvious influence, giving it a date 4 years after its actual release; and while this is not a mistake he fails to draw out the obvious parallels between Psycho and the motel scenes of Touch of Evil, despite pointing out that they share a designer. Wouldn't the fact that Janet Leigh had just two years before been harassed in a lonely southwestern motel run by a neurotic with sexual issues seem relevant to the topic at hand? These aren't huge issues, but they do make me wonder if I should be suspicious of other information I'm receiving.
I'd still recommend this book to anyone interested in the behind-the-scenes of the movie industry, obviously especially Psycho/Hitchcock fans. It's not bad-it's just not inspiring. And I just wish I knew more good writing about a subject I love so much.
But one of the things I notice books like this doing is speaking in what I feel is an overly familiar tone, in the sense that the author seems to pretend he's in the room and describes the physical and emotional characteristics of the people involved in a way that puts me off. I know it's a method of avoiding saying “Hitchcock said” over and over, but “the portly director” (or similar) strikes me as an attempt at a personality I don't like. While I often want my nonfiction to display an author's intelligence behind it, it's incredibly touchy, because it's always possible the reader won't like that person. I'm not saying I don't like Stephen Rebello, but I had trouble with the author of this particular book that I can't quite put my finger on.
Though part of it is definitely what is apparently a constant of pop culture writing, and that is glaring mistakes. It is incredibly easy for an erroneous source, one that appears reputable, to propagate false information through generations of books, articles and DVD extras. Once something's written in a published source, who's to say it's not true? There wasn't a lot of that here, but two mistakes/omissions probably grabbed me because they're pets of mine: he claims that Peeping Tom bears Psycho's obvious influence, giving it a date 4 years after its actual release; and while this is not a mistake he fails to draw out the obvious parallels between Psycho and the motel scenes of Touch of Evil, despite pointing out that they share a designer. Wouldn't the fact that Janet Leigh had just two years before been harassed in a lonely southwestern motel run by a neurotic with sexual issues seem relevant to the topic at hand? These aren't huge issues, but they do make me wonder if I should be suspicious of other information I'm receiving.
I'd still recommend this book to anyone interested in the behind-the-scenes of the movie industry, obviously especially Psycho/Hitchcock fans. It's not bad-it's just not inspiring. And I just wish I knew more good writing about a subject I love so much.