Why Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock is Horror at Its Best

In this entry, I’ll be sharing my thoughts on Psycho and why it left such a strong impression on me. From Hitchcock’s brilliant direction to the film’s unsettling atmosphere, there’s a lot to appreciate.

Before we dive in, though, a quick spoiler warning—if you haven’t seen Psycho yet, I highly recommend watching it first. Experiencing its surprises firsthand is part of what makes it so unforgettable.

Horror is my favorite genre. While a romance movie might make me feel happy or a comedy might make giggle, nothing compares to the adrenaline and excitement that comes after watching a beautifully-made horror movie with plot twists, such as Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock. Holy sh*t.

I have seen Hitchcock's Rear Window and Rope prior to this movie, and there are two things that I admire about Hitchcock the most. First, Hitchcock can make a masterpiece out of a colorful murder mystery just as well as a morbid horror movie without losing the touch for either, which shows just how wide his range is. Secondly, I've noticed that in his movies, Hitchcock can convey shock or terror incredibly well, no matter what the genre is. It's been some time since I watched Rear Window, but the shock and hopelessness I felt from seeing the look on Stewart's face as he was falling still lingers on. At least now, that feeling won't be alone as the utter disturbance I felt after seeing the skull of the mom morphed into Norman's face won't be forgotten anytime soon. This movie reminded me how Alfred Hitchcock is a director I've been meaning to watch more of since movies like Vertigo and Dial M for Murder are currently gathering dust on my watchlist.

Rear Window falling scene

I’d like to mention some scenes from Psycho that really impacted me. While I will, of course, discuss the iconic shower scene, I want to start with the car scene.

I’m not used to hearing internal diegetic sounds in movies, but Psycho provides an unusually clear insight into Marion’s thoughts and the voices she imagines. This choice makes the scene much more powerful, as we are drawn directly into her paranoia and guilt. Additionally, the presence of the giant crosses behind and ahead of Marion subtly reinforces her internal struggle with morality. As the lighting grows progressively darker, mirroring her descent into deeper trouble, we remain connected to her emotions not just through visual motifs, but through her reactions to her own thoughts. This approach makes the experience feel more intimate and immersive.

The driving scene and Marion's internal conflict

The second scene I want to discuss, surprise surprise, is the shower scene. Putting aside the brilliant transitions and the extraordinary number of shots that went into constructing this sequence, I initially felt a bit underwhelmed. While the composition of the scene is undeniably stunning, the way the stabbing was conveyed felt somewhat unsatisfying, as it never explicitly shows the knife piercing Marion’s skin. Similarly, the amount of blood didn’t seem entirely proportionate to the brutality of the murder. Of course, Hitchcock was working under incredibly strict censorship regulations. It’s also possible that I’ve been desensitized from watching too many Saw movies. But all of this made me wonder how much more visceral and intense this already masterful scene could have been if it were made with today’s technology and lenient censorship guidelines.

The shower scene composition

That being said, the artistic brilliance of the shower scene is undeniable. The disorienting flurry of quick cuts—comprising over 70 shots in just 45 seconds—creates a sense of chaos and panic, mirroring Marion’s helplessness. Bernard Herrmann’s shrieking violins elevate the terror, making the sound itself feel like a series of piercing stabs. The blurred silhouette of the killer emerging behind Marion is chilling, and the way Hitchcock manipulates the viewer’s perception through suggestion rather than explicit gore is nothing short of masterful. Perhaps the most haunting moment of all is the dissolve transition from the shower drain to Marion’s lifeless eye, a stunning visual metaphor that seamlessly marks the transition from life to death.

Shower drain to Marion's eye transition

The last scene I want to discuss is the final moment with “Norman’s mother.” This is another instance of internal diegetic sound being used, but this time, we are forced to experience the twisted mind of Norman Bates—and also his mother. Hearing Norman’s delusional thoughts while seeing his eerily motionless expression is deeply unsettling. The brief, chilling superimposition of his mother’s skull over his face further emphasizes the complete breakdown of his identity. This terrifying moment serves as a perfect ending to a psychologically rich and truly brilliant horror film.

The superimposition of the skull and Norman's face

Psycho was everything I love about horror movies: unpredictable, unsettling, and masterfully crafted. It didn’t just deliver scares; it seeped into my mind, lingering long after the credits rolled. Hitchcock’s ability to manipulate suspense, paired with Bernard Herrmann’s unforgettable score, made for an experience that was as thrilling as it was disturbing. While I still have a long list of his films to watch, Psycho reminded me exactly why Hitchcock is hailed as the Master of Suspense. If Vertigo and Dial M for Murder are anything like this, I think I’m in for something special.