78/52, which dissects and decodes the shower scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), has received mostly glowing reviews from critics—which makes sense, given that it both validates cineastes’ obsessions and constitutes a fine piece of film criticism itself. Named for the 78 camera setups and 52 splices that Hitchcock employed for a sequence running about three minutes, the documentary feels like an Intro to Cinema Studies class taught by an engaging professor, both wonky and accessible.
As many have observed, the prolonged, bloody murder of Psycho‘s ostensible protagonist, Marion—likable, repentant, and, most egregiously, nude—marked a turning point for the horror genre, for filmmaking, and for the American psyche at the uneasy dawn of a new decade. But like any good professor, Philippe encourages a multiplicity of interpretations. Deconstructing the scene, South African filmmaker Richard Stanley focuses on its spiritual element—how Marion’s blood swirling down the drain represents “the pointless spiraling of the universe” to which we will all succumb. Director Karyn Kusama (Girlfight) describes the scene as “the first modern expression of the female body under assault.” Peter Bogdanovich, disturbed as much by the film’s voyeurism as by its violence, recalls stumbling out onto the bright street after watching Psycho in 1960: “I felt like I’d been raped.” With commentary such as this, Philippe proves that one of the most scrutinized films of all time still possesses that rare ability to surprise. v
Directed by Alexandre O. Philippe
