Hitchcock (2012)

[bunniefuu]

It's lucky it
didn't reach the house.

Yeah.

You know...

there's gonna be
a lot more jobs

at that factory in
Milwaukee come June.

I could put in a word.

You can't leave us, Henry.
She needs us both.

Can you stop being a mama's boy
for one second?

I'm not trying to
hurt you, but Jesus,

you gotta live your
own life sometime.

That woman can
take care of her own god...

Oh, good evening.

Well, brother has been k*lling brother
since Cain and Abel...

yet even I didn't
see that coming.

I was as blindsided
as poor old Henry down there.

And apparently,
the authorities shared my naïveté.

In other words,
they believed the young man's story.

That Henry fell,
hit his head on a stone...

and d*ed of
smoke asphyxiation.

On the other hand,
if they hadn't believed him...

Ed Gein would never
have had the opportunity...

to commit those heinous crimes
for which he became most famous.

And we, of course, well...

we wouldn't have our little movie,
would we?

Here he comes!

This thing's
gonna be gigantic.

I wish I had 20
percent of the take.

Does tonight's incredible reaction
surprise you, Mr. Hitchcock?

No. When I was planning
North by Northwest...

I could already hear
the screams and the laughter.

Any questions, my dear?

Pity.

Mr. Hitchcock,
you've directed 46 motion pictures.

You're the most famous director
in the history of the medium.

But you're 60 years old.

Shouldn't you just quit
while you're ahead?

Muhammad had the eyes of peeping toms
gouged out with arrows.

Well, that must have
been rather painful.

And talking of arrows...

did you read that
little snippet from

A. H. Weiler's review
in The New York Times?

He said he found the climax
to be "overdrawn."

Well, I doubt Mr. Weiler
has had a climax in years.

"North by Northwest reminds us
of Mr. Hitchcock's earlier...

"more inventive spy thrillers."

And there is
an accompanying list.

"The New Masters of Suspense."

Why do they keep
looking for new ones

when they still
have the original?

Oh, don't be maudlin.
You know how much it aggravates me.

Just stop reading them.

You've been reading
them for a week.

Tell me, my dear,
do you think I'm too old?

Yes, you're a true relic.

And lest we forget,
a notably corpulent one.

You always know precisely
where to plunge the dagger, don't you?

Right between
the shoulder blades.

I learned it
from your pictures.

And where, may I ask,
are you off to?

I'm going to have
brunch with Whit,

after I drop you
off at the studio.

Would you care to join us?

We have just established
that I am far too corpulent

to be seen
in broad daylight.

Oh, you'll feel better
when you find a new project.

Hasn't Peggy unearthed any
decent books for you recently?

Yes, sleeping pills
with dust jackets.

So, what do you think?

Very presentable.

Hurry up, dear.
You're pruning.

Good morning.

Mrs. Hitchcock.
Mr. Hitchcock.

Sirs.

Thank you.

There's a project out there
waiting for you, Hitch.

I promise you.

I hope so.
Thank you, my dear.

Have a good day.

I'm treading water, Peggy.

I need something fresh,
something different.

Without expensive
stars to pretty it up.

Fox is offering you
The Diary of Anne Frank for the third time.

The audience would
spend the entire picture...

waiting for
Miss Frank to discover

the corpse I'd
hidden in the attic.

- Wouldn't you agree, Nunzio?
- Sì.

MGM wants you for
the Ian Fleming book

Casino Royale,
with Cary Grant.

Definitely your style.

Doesn't she know I
just made that movie?

It was called
North by Northwest.

And style, my dear,
is mere self-plagiarism.

Ooh! Scusi.

Nice, clean, nasty little piece of work.
That's what I'm looking for.

I shall see what I can find.

Serves you right.

Yeah.

You know, Hitch always says...

that your private life
is in danger of being

more entertaining
than any of your plots.

Well, I'm surprised he let me have you
for the whole afternoon.

Especially looking
so beautiful.

So, tell me, what are
you working on these days?

Me? Oh.

- I'm satisfied working in my garden.
- Oh!

Well, that's one lucky garden.

You know, all this
relentless sycophancy

is actually giving
me indigestion.

What are you after?

I was hoping...

that you may be able to apply
your considerable pruning skills to this.

Ah...

All is finally revealed.

Whit, you are a little predictable,
you know?

The most fun I ever had
was working with you.

Anything come up, my dear?
Anything at all?

Nothing suitable.

Is that water,
or do I need to call Alma?

Do whatever you want.

Anthony Boucher says this book
Psycho by Robert Bloch...

is fiendishly entertaining.

Mmm. Sounds ghastly.
Everyone in town has already passed.

And who is everyone, pray?

Well, the story department
finished the coverage this morning.

This is about Ed Gein,
the mass m*rder*r from Wisconsin.

- Mmm-hmm.
- Oh, yeah.

"Graphic elements
of brutal v*olence...

"voyeurism,
transvestitism and incest."

Very nice.

Not your average run-of-the-mill nutcase,
is he, dear?

You're kidding.

Peggy, this is the boy
who dug up his own mother.

Hungry?

Famished.

Well, you can have half a grapefruit later
if you're good.

Now, listen, Hitch...

Whit gave me the galleys to his
new book yesterday at lunch.

I've already got some ideas
about how we can adapt it.

It's elegant, it's sophisticated,
it's full of intrigue.

You mean the book,
or Mr. Whitfield Cook?

This could be the one, Hitch.

I'll read it later.

There are calories
in that, you know?

Ma?

Ma?

Aren't you cold?

No need to be afraid, Ma.

Oh, God.

I just want you
to read this little bit here.

It takes place in
the motel bathroom.

"Mary started to scream.

"And then the curtains
parted farther...

"and a hand appeared,
holding a butcher's Kn*fe."

"It was the Kn*fe that,
a moment later, cut off her scream..."

"and her head."

Charming.
Doris Day should do it as a musical.

That is nothing but low-budget,
horror movie claptrap.

But what if
someone really good made a horror picture?

Just think of
the shock value.

k*lling off your leading lady
halfway through.

I mean, you are intrigued,
are you not, my dear?

Come on, admit it.

Admit it.

Actually, I think
it's a huge mistake.

You shouldn't wait till halfway through.
k*ll her off after 30 minutes.

Well.

Peggy, I want you to
summon your minions.

Minions?

Right away.

Certainly.
And who might they be?

Get them started
by buying copies of Psycho.

How many do you need?

All of them.
Every copy, nationwide.

Scour every bookshop, every library.
And I mean everywhere.

Psycho is going to
be my next movie,

and I don't want
anyone to know the ending...

until they see
it in the theater.

Look at that.

Are you sure about this?

It's just so unlike you.

That is exactly
the point, my dear.

Ladies and gentlemen of the press.

Good afternoon.

I see you've all been devouring
the article on Mr. Ed Gein.

Violent chap...

and the real-life
inspiration behind Psycho.

All of us harbor
dark recesses of v*olence...

and horror.

Fascinating, isn't it?

When the Wisconsin Police Department
raided Mr. Gein's farm...

they opened the door,
and voila.

They discovered 10 female heads
with the tops sawn off.

Pass these around, would you?
And have a look.

Masks of human skin...

a pair of lips on a draw string
for a window shade.

Oh, yes, and a jar containing
human noses and other...

Is this really going to be
your next picture, Mr. Hitchcock?

Well, that is my intention.
Yes, Madam.

My only wish is
that Ed Gein...

looks a little more like William Holden
instead of Elmer Fudd.

Oh, by the way, try the finger sandwiches.
They're real fingers.

WO- Bloody hell!

Now, don't pretend you're not upset
he hasn't read it.

I'm not. I'm a big boy,
I can take it.

Well, I loved it. It must have been
great fun to research.

Do you really think
he will read it?

Ah...

Speak of the devil. Hitch...

I ran all over town
trying to find a copy of Psycho,

but I simply cannot find one.

I wonder how that
could have happened.

Yeah.

Don't stop looking
on my behalf.

Hitch, I think
you should come.

I've seen happier faces
on a school bus going over a cliff.

But they can't
stop looking, can they?

Audiences want to
be shocked, Barney.

They want something different,
and this is it.

Every time you want to do
something different...

like The Wrong Man
or Vertigo...

someone loses money.

So, we should stop trying
to give them something new?

You owe Paramount
one last picture, Hitch.

Now, can't you do something
like North by Northwest...

but for us this time,
instead of for MGM?

Psycho.

No one respects the name
"Hitchcock" like Paramount.

Are you telling
me "no," Barney?

I think you know me
better than that, Hitch.

What a putz.

You know what his family did before
they built those movie palaces?

Ran a grocery store.

My father ran
a grocery store.

Exactly, that's what I'm saying.
He should show some respect.

They think I've
lost my touch, Lew.

My association with television
has cheapened me.

Are you referring
to that deal I got you...

where Bristol-Myers
pays you $29,000 an episode,

and you own the negative?

That's my kind of cheap.

They just want the same thing
over and over and over.

They've put me in a coffin,
and now they're nailing down the lid.

Hitch, as your agent...

I will never let that happen.

How much do you think
you can make this picture for?

$800,000, give or take.

You're home early.

Oh!

It's lovely, actually.

Oh!

You know, I'm disappointed
you didn't give Whit's book a chance.

And what about Whit?
Is he disappointed?

No, he knows you well enough.

Look at that.

Time for a new one, anyway.

Well, you better enjoy the pool,
my dear, while you can.

We might not
have it much longer.

Why?

Paramount refuses
to finance the movie.

Oh, Hitch, I'm so sorry.

Lew can't find the money.
At least, not fast enough.

Well, why not wait?

No.

We're just going to have to go it alone,
old girl.

Finance it ourselves.

Well, are we going to
have to sell the whole house,

or just the pool?

I just want to do the film.

I'm going to
ask you this once,

and I'll never
mention it again.

Why this one, Hitch?

It's not just because
so many people are saying "no," is it?

Do you remember the fun we had
when we started out all those years ago?

We didn't have any
money then, did we?

We didn't have
any time, either.

But we took risks,
do you remember?

We experimented.

We invented new ways
of making pictures...

because we had to.

I just want to feel...

that kind of... freedom again.

Like we used to, you know?

We are about to propose a
restructured deal for Psycho.

I'm listening.

We finance it.

Independently.

Hitch waives his
directorial fee...

Paramount only
distributes it...

in exchange for
40% of the profits.

Interesting.

But what exactly
is Paramount distributing?

Is this still
a picture about a q*eer

k*lling people in
his mother's dress?

What this picture is about
is the reputation of Alfred Hitchcock.

No one is arguing that.

Barney...

it's very simple.

This is Mister Hitchcock's
next film.

Are you in, or are you out?

Fine.

We'll take that deal...

if you can get the money.

We already have
the money, Barney.

Who do I make it out to?

If this picture
fails, Alma...

we'll be in for a long,
humiliating bout of crow-eating.

It will be splendid.

Are you sure?

Of the movie?
Not at all.

But of you, unquestionably.

Ahem.

Joe Stefano.
Good to meet you.

- Sit down.
- I'm sorry I was late.

My shrink session
went overtime.

I see him every day. It's still not enough.

I thought it was only director's assistants
who needed psychiatrists.

Not writers.

Do you see a shrink,
Mister Hitchcock?

I have to confess,
Mister Stefano...

it boggles my brain
just trying to imagine...

what on earth
you and your shrink

could possibly
talk about every day.

Just the usual.

Sex, rage, my mother.

- Good morning.
- Good morning, sir.

Let me have a look at you.

You know, the only thing worse
than a visit to the dentist...

is a visit to the censor.

Whatever you do, Hitch,
don't lose your temper.

- See you later.
- Good luck.

Thank you.

The code will
absolutely not permit you

to show a Kn*fe
penetrating a woman's flesh.

I assure you, Geoffrey...

my murders are always models
of taste and discretion.

Is there any improper suggestion
of nudity...

in this m*rder scene
in the shower?

She won't be nude,
she'll be wearing a shower cap.

Hmm...

We might accept a sh*t from
outside the bathroom window...

of Marion in silhouette,
above the shoulders...

provided that
the glass is frosted.

Thank you.

And...

this scene with a toilet.

Well, it is completely necessary
to show the toilet...

because Marion Crane attempts
to flush evidence down it.

Remnants of which
are later discovered by her sister.

These remnants, you understand,
are clues to her vanishing.

No American movie has ever
found it necessary to show a toilet...

let alone to flush one.

Well, perhaps we ought
to sh**t the film in France.

Use a bidet instead.

Mister Hitchcock...

if this office
denies you a seal...

and we're certainly heading
in that direction...

your movie will
not be released

in a single theater
in this country.

Will you be making jokes then?

Everyone in
Hollywood resents me.

I make them
millions of dollars...

and every year I sit at those
dreadful award show dinners...

waiting for someone
just to say...

"You're good."

They take sadistic pleasure
in denying me that one little moment.

That must hurt.

Deeply, Ed.

Deeply.

I'm sorry, but...

I'm just not used to this...

process.

Just think of me
more like a friend.

It's just that more and more,
I've been having these...

impulses.

What kind of impulses?

Strong ones.

Here.

The Lazar office tells me
he's crazy to work with you.

Well, tell Swifty Lazar
he should not have

overexposed his
client on television.

Unlike some we could mention.

Anthony Perkins.

Oh.

Think of the duality
he could bring to the role of Norman.

The rage lurking beneath
that little boy grin...

the winsome charm he uses to keep
from being found out.

Why, Alma.

You're not suggesting
Mister Perkins is...

Mmm-hmm.

What?

I like your office.

I can't count how many times
I've seen Strangers on a Train.

And Rope.

Well, Norman Bates is
the logical extension

of those two characters
in that movie.

Appealing, sensitive...

suffering the terrible
burden of being forced

to pretend to be
something he is not.

Well, I'm sick of
all this romantic crap

the studios keep
shoving me into.

But my only worry is...

Well, playing Norman
might cut too close to home.

How so?

Uh...

When I was younger...

I was incredibly
close to my mother.

So close that I remember
wishing my father would drop dead.

And when I was five,
he did just that.

He keeled over
from a heart att*ck.

You see, I've been guilty my whole life,
Mister Hitchcock.

You know,
I'm getting blisters just watching you.

Oh, stop complaining.

A bit of fresh air and exercise
will do you good.

I'm going to have a drink.

No, you're not.
You're going to finish that hedge.

You've got to go all the way around there,
all the way around there.

That's impossible.
I can't do that.

Yes, you can.

You know, I was thinking...

if I could get Grace Kelly
to play the girl...

they'd let me get
away with m*rder.

Well, you can't.
She's a princess now,

which makes her
permanently unattainable.

And all the more desirable.

How about Deborah Kerr?

Lew mentioned her.

No, she's too Scottish.

How about Janet Leigh?

I know she's normally
the good girl,

but she was awfully
good in Touch of Evil.

You remember how
you always used to remark

on her figure at
the Wasserman's parties?

Yeah.

Good evening.

Hello. Lovely to see you.

- Charmed.
- Hi.

Hello, Janet.
How are you again?

Wonderful to see you.

Well, my dear,
you're looking very beautiful.

Thank you.

Very beautiful.

Of course, the real secret
of Mrs. Simpson's appeal

to the Duke of Windsor...

was that she could make a toothpick
feel like a cigar.

I've been so immersed
in preparing to play Marion,

I'd almost forgotten
how to laugh.

- Oh, really?
- Yes.

Well, now you must try
the banana shortcake.

Oh, no, nothing for me, thank you.
I'm watching my figure.

Yes, you're not the only one.
We're fine, thank you.

George, bring her
the banana shortcake.

In fact, make that
two large portions.

Thank you.

Now, tell me, my dear,

how else have you prepared
for the part of Marion Crane?

Well, I've written
an entire history for her...

which seems a little silly, I know,
but it really does help.

It doesn't sound
silly at all.

No?

Why don't you tell us
one of her deepest secrets?

Well, she leads a double life.

At the Lowery office,
she wears Tweed perfume.

But when she's with Sam...

she recklessly breaks out
her most expensive bottle.

My Sin, by Lanvin.

- My Sin?
- Yes.

Good Lord.

Uh... I do have
a concern or two.

Well,
I'm an actress, of course,

but I'm first
a wife and a mother.

And I'm just
curious to know...

how are you going to sh**t
this shower scene?

Yes, you and the
Shurlock Office.

It's only that, well, from here up,
I'm not exactly boyish, so...

Allow me to set your mind at rest,
my dear.

I will be sh**ting short bits of film
from various angles.

Cut together,
the montage will only

suggest nudity,
suggest v*olence.

Nothing will
actually be shown.

But of course,
having you in the shower...

will make it all
that more, well...

titillating.

Will you excuse me?

Ah... Alma!

Dear, how lovely to see you.

Oh, hello, Lillian.

You're looking a little pale.

Well, it's no wonder, with that thing
your husband's working on now.

You can't possibly approve.

Why are you letting him
do something so tasteless?

Don't upset yourself, darling.
It's only a bloody movie.

I can't believe you
made Vera Miles play the sister.

Well, I've still got
her under contract.

May as well get
something out of her.

Rather a thankless
role, don't you think?

For an utterly
thankless girl.

This can't
possibly be for me.

Oh, it is. He chose it himself
and had it imported from Paris.

Horrible.

The old man really
is unhappy with me, isn't he?

Wait until you see the undergarments
he has picked out for you.

Okay, well, I am just going to
have to keep telling myself...

"One more picture,
and I am free as a bird."

Hmm.

So, I've made a list of places where
we can tighten our belts.

Huh?

We could all learn the art of
self-restraint, couldn't we, Alfred?

"Gardeners once a week?

"Weekends off for the driver"?

No, that's impossible.
We'll have to find other places to cut.

There aren't any other places.

And there will be
no more shipments

flown in from
Maxim's of Paris.

We can't afford it.

The foie gras at Chasen's
is more than adequate.

But those geese are from Barstow,
not from Marseille.

Yes.

Well, we all have to
make our sacrifices

for the greater good.
Don't we, Alfred?

I'll go get the knives.

Ed.

Am I making
a terrible mistake?

What if it's another Vertigo?

You just get the first take
under your belt, you'll be fine.

Oh, no.

Are you decent, my dear?

Good morning.

Good morning.
Am I all right?

- Perfect. Good.
- Wow.

- Morning.
- Morning.

I want to thank you once again
for this opportunity, Mister Hitchcock.

You may call me Hitch,
hold the "cock."

Well, look at you two,
America's favorite boy and girl next door.

Yes, and we're about to move
to a whole new neighborhood.

Morning, Janet.
Good morning, Tony.

Good morning, Vera.

Thanks for the
wardrobe, Hitch.

Do you approve?

You're the genius.

One thing, though.
My script, it's missing its last ten pages.

Everyone's script
is missing ten pages

until Alma finishes
the revisions.

You're just in time
for the oath.

The what?

The oath.

Good morning, everyone.

Good morning.

I want you all to
raise your right hands.

That includes you,
Vera Miles.

I do solemnly promise...

...that I will not divulge...

...the plot, nor the many
...secrets of Psycho

...to friends, relatives...

...trade reporters...

...nor to the outgoing President,
Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Thank you all very much.

All right, come on, you two.
Let's get started.

I wanted to talk about Marion's arrival
at the Bates Motel.

Here we are,
Norman's inner sanctum.

Now, Hitch...

explain to me why I'm watching
Marion undress.

I feel I should
take offense at that.

Perhaps Norman
secretly watched his mother

preparing for her
nightly bath.

Yes, maybe there was a transom
over the bathroom door.

Yeah, which he could access
by climbing on a chair.

So long as he was stealthy.

A boy's first glimpse of a naked woman
is usually his mother.

Hmm.

So, I'm reliving the past...

repeating a ritual
with Marion.

Well, don't ask me.

I'm just a man hiding in the corner
with my camera, watching.

My camera will tell you the truth,
the absolute truth.

Hitch, I have a question.

Why is the hole so much
larger on this side?

All the better to
see with, my dear.

From the greatest
possible angle.

And cut.

If you ask me,
the credits should read...

"Screenplay by Joseph Stefano
and Alma Reville."

Well, the people
who matter know.

Hmm...

Alma, you always know the answer.
Is this really going to work?

See you tomorrow.

Hello, stranger.

Whit!

Where have you been hiding?

Oh, God.

I've been finishing
the revisions on...

- Psycho.
- Mmm-hmm.

And how is the old boy?

He is in a state of unbridled ecstasy
now that he's back on the set.

And you? How are you?

Well, I've got 2,000 words to do
for Reader's Digest...

on what it's like to be married to a man
obsessed by m*rder.

Alma, you deserve a break.

Let's drive up
to Santa Barbara.

We'll have Emilio fry
up those juicy steaks

that we love so much,
at El Encanto.

Mister Hitchcock,
we're ready for you on set.

Mister Hitchcock?

I'll be
there in a moment.

Was there a long line
at the supermarket?

No, actually.
I'm home earlier than I expected.

Mmm.

Would you like a cocktail?

No.

And you shouldn't
have one either.

That hasn't been washed yet.

I don't care.

Oh, I was filming all day
today with John Gavin.

He's a good-looking chap.

But, really, plywood
is more expressive.

I think his love scene
with Janet Leigh...

may be the most horrifying thing
in the movie.

Even your friend, Mister Whitfield Cook
would be better in the scene.

Why don't you
tell him yourself?

I'm sure he'd be
very flattered.

You know, my dear...

maybe I was a bit
too dismissive...

about your friend
Whitfield's book.

Perhaps he and Elizabeth
could come over this weekend...

and walk me through it,
as they say.

Lovely woman, Elizabeth.

Well, I was hoping you could
come to the set tomorrow.

Yes. Well, I'll see
how my day shapes up.

Yes.

You think you can get away
with it, don't you? But you can't.

You think they can't tell,
but they can.

They know.

You can feel
that noose tighten

around that
breakable little neck.

You could return
the money secretly,

but what would that prove?
It's too late.

Poor Marion Crane,
always so tight,

so respectable,
so prim and so proper.

Perfect, untouchable,
unsullied Miss Crane.

Daddy's perfect little angel.

And now they all know those
dirty little secrets

you've been hiding so long.

Messy, sticky,
little lunchtime trysts...

with that oh-so-handsome failure
Mister Samuel Loomis.

They'll smirk, they'll gossip
and they'll whisper.

Even your boss, strait-laced,
hatchet-faced Mister George Lowery...

why even he can
smell the rancid,

pungent scent of
sex all over you!

All right,
circle that and print it.

Let's get this thing
fixed once and for all.

I'm sick and tired of it.
Come on.

Mister Hitchcock?

Just get it done.

Why is it breaking
down all the time?

Okay, what's it
going to take to reset?

Come in.

I thought you could use
a little pick-me-up.

Oh! You're so sweet.
Thank you.

Not at all.

- Here, have a seat.
- Thanks.

I can't imagine your husband
would be too pleased

with what just happened.

Well, you know...

with Tony and the kids,
you'd be surprised

what comes out
of their mouths sometimes.

That's true.

You haven't spoken to him
much about your personal life, have you?

- Hitch?
- Mm-hmm.

No. Not really.

I would keep it that
way if I were you.

Why?

Well, it starts with him
wanting to choose your hairstyle.

Then, he wants to
choose your clothes...

and your friends,
and how many children you should have.

You know that poor,
tortured soul

- Jimmy Stewart played in Vertigo?
- Hmm.

That's Hitch.

Only younger, slimmer
and better-looking.

Well, I don't know.

Compared to Orson Welles,
he's a sweetheart.

See?

He's always watching.

- Jack?
- Yeah?

How long is
this going to take?

Give me five minutes.

Get a move on, I haven't got all day.

Why does it keep
burning out all the time?

Just get it fixed.
So what's the hold-up?

It's still engaged.

All right, give it to me, I'll try it.

- Here, I've dialed.
- Hitch.

I'm stuck on
Lila's first scene.

I don't know how strongly
I should confront Sam and the detective...

Darling, just fake it. You know how
to do that. Act.

Where are my revisions?

Come on, does it really require two men
to carry a light stand?

Hilton!

I'll take care of
it right away, Mr. Hitchcock.

It makes all the difference
when the money's

coming out of your
own pocket, doesn't it?

- We'll have a late lunch.
- Right.

I'll make
reservations for 1:30.

Oh, Whit. What would
I do without you?

Until then, bye-bye.

Bye.

Whit? What did you forget now?

Whit?

Whit?

- Mister Hitchcock, sir, please.
- No, no.

Every press outlet
is dying for photos.

If we could just
get one photo...

Get off my set! I'll have security...
Get off my set. Just go.

Get rid of this man. He's a bloody pest.
Get him off the set, now.

Are you okay?
You've gone very pale.

I told you to get away.

Stop following me around like a puppy dog
and get me a drink.

It's not even three!

Then give me the key
to the cabinet.

Hello, Hitch.
How's the picture?

I'm hearing
interesting things.

It's a miracle anyone
can hear anything...

above the noise coming from
Geoffrey Shurlock's office.

You know, I shouldn't be in a position
of just hearing things, Hitch.

It's time you showed
me some footage.

Why?

To see if you're
making a picture

Paramount can
actually release.

As you well know...

my contract
guarantees me final cut.

Your contract also says...

Paramount isn't
required to distribute

any film that could
cause us embarrassment.

Unlike the last five Martin and Lewis films
you're all so proud of.

I demand to see some footage!

Hitch!

You show me some
damn footage now!

Hitch!

You have no idea
how wonderful it is

not to have to
look after someone.

I mean, even if it's
just for two hours.

So, where are we going, Whit?
You haven't told me.

I have a little surprise.

Ooh.

Where's your driver?

I have been asking myself
the same thing.

Well, I can give you
a ride if you'd like.

- Oh, my God. What a tiny car.
- Mmm-hmm.

What are these things?
I keep looking at them, what are they?

Candy corn.
Girls love them.

Candy corn.

I nicked them from
Tony's dressing room.

- Oh.
- Mmm-hmm.

Very nice.

I thought you only liked
those Fauchon chocolates.

Well, needs must when the devil drives,
my dear.

Oh!

Luckily, I'm driving.

Thank God for that.

He's always had obsessions
with his leading ladies.

It's just that this time it feels like
he's using them against me.

Well, I suppose he's
like any great artist.

Impossible to live with,
but worth the effort.

Did you know, before we got together,
I was his boss?

He had to work his way
up to Assistant Director

before he dared ask me out.

- Really?
- Mmm-hmm.

Huh.

You see that house
over there?

- Yes.
- What do you think of it?

It's lovely, isn't it?
What a great position.

It's mine.

I just talked to Elizabeth,
she didn't say anything about it.

She doesn't know anything about it.
Nobody does.

Do you want to see it?

Well, thank you, my dear.

Any time.

- Can I keep these?
- Absolutely.

- Would you like one?
- No, thank you.

All right,
well, thank you.

- Hitch?
- What?

What really did happen
with you and Vera?

Oh...

Vera.

See, she was going to play
the lead in Vertigo.

And two weeks before filming,
she told me she was pregnant, and...

I was going to make
her into a star...

but she chose the life
of a housewife instead.

Why do they do it,
I wonder?

Why do they always
betray me?

Oh!

Very bohemian.

I just leased it
for the off season.

A place to get away
from the wife, kids, and write.

Um...

Whit, I hope you don't
have the wrong idea.

If you were serious
about helping me adapt my book...

I thought that this might
make the perfect...

hideaway.

Relax.

Naughty boys, calm down.

Oh, by the way,
I forgot to tell you...

I read your treatment
of that story, the, um...

Taxi to... Where was it, dear?

Dubrovnik.

That's it.
Dubrovnik, yeah.

Well, would you care
to hear my opinion?

Well, yes, naturally.

Right-o then.

Well, my dear, there's no other way
of saying it, is there?

But it's, you know, stillborn.

How so?

First of all, the plot's a bit of a muddle,
isn't it?

And some of those
jokes are awfully

like the ones we did
so much better...

hundreds of years ago
in The Lady Vanishes.

Also, your villain
is rather weak, I'm afraid.

Well, it's very weak, in fact.

But I think the big failure...

is the relationship between
the heroine and the hero...

you see?

Probably,
if you weren't so smitten

with your friend
Whitfield Cook...

you'd be able to see that,
wouldn't you?

But then I suppose women
never really care to face the truth...

when their hearts
are involved, do they?

How would you know what really goes on
between a man and a woman?

My God, what a bloody mess.

Bloody mess.

No!

More! More!

- No!
- Use some guts!

Come on!

No!

More anger!

All right, cut! Cut, cut!

For God's sake!

Will someone get me
a proper stunt double?

Now, give me the Kn*fe!

Like this!

Ungovernable rage!

Homicidal v*olence!

Cut! Cut and print.

We've got it.

Oh, not now, Ed.

It's really not the time.

You just can't keep
the stuff bottled up.

Oh, God!

Hitch, are you all right?

Can you hear me?

Alma...

What if Bridget
and Constantine

get into the cab
at the same time?

No, what if they try and get in
at exactly the same time?

Yes.

What do you mean exactly?

I mean they both reach for the cab door
at exactly the same time.

- They quickly touch.
- Yes.

We start on the hands...

we pan up to the eyes and...

Oh, that feels better already.

Are you going to get that?

What?

Listen,
I've told Peggy...

you have to get this
sequence sh*t today.

What's the hold-up?

We've tried it ten different ways
and it looks terrible.

No!

It has to be a high angle.

You'll tip off
the big surprise.

Just get the process sh*t.

How can he hold on to the
camera crane if he's waving his arms?

Why don't you just push Arbogast
from the top of the stairs?

Bloody idiots, they are.

- What are you doing?
- No more phone calls.

- No, but I've got to...
- You're burning up.

Yeah, burning up our money.
That's what we're doing.

We're two days behind and
I'm stuck in this bloody bed.

Where do you
think you're going?

I've got to go to the set.

We can't lose another day.

You stay in bed!

I'll deal with it.

I'd hate to take you away
from your writing partner.

You stay under the blankets, Alfred.

- Mrs. Hitchcock.
- Morning.

Where's Mister Hitchcock?

Well, don't stop
work because of me.

I'm only here as one of the two people
paying your salaries.

What's the scene number?

173.

- Storyboards?
- Here.

All right,
put Martin in the chair,

turn the camera
around to face him.

We'll sh**t the fall
against a rear screen.

And Jack, that lens
should be a 35.

Thank you.

Well, David, you know how Paramount
loves Jerry Lewis...

but this one is right up your alley,
and I would consider...

Barney?

Alma!

You know David Kirkpatrick.

- Hello.
- Hello.

He's working with Jerry Lewis,
developing a new picture...

so he's free to
help if you need it.

That won't be necessary.

But you're nearly
three days behind.

Yes, well, we can manage.

Alma, we both know
what kind of film this is.

Now, the smart thing to do
would be to help Hitch finish it.

Thank you for your
concern, Barney...

but on a Hitchcock picture,
there is only one director.

No need to gawp.

You forgot to
look in the bathroom.

A man like you missing
the vital clue like that.

What do you mean?

My mother always said...

if you want to do a job...

do it right.

Check the floor.

Closer.

Do you still think
they're just writing together?

What are you
going to do about it?

Oh, Mrs. Hitchcock.

I know Hitch isn't
feeling very well,

so I got him
a little something.

Oh! How kind!
Thank you very much.

Candy corn.

Well, he's always been
very considerate with me...

and I haven't always
had that from my directors.

Janet, I'd just
like to say that...

you've been very professional.

It hasn't gone unappreciated.

Thank you.

Lovely seeing you.

You too.

May I turn that down?

Well, you'll be pleased to know
that order has been restored.

And a thank you
would be nice.

We're still two days behind,
and $60,000 over budget.

Well, I've canceled
the wrap party.

That'll save us
$2,000 right there...

and you won't be tempted
by any champagne and cake.

Beware, all men are
potential murderers.

And for good reason.

All right,
what's this all about?

Spending a lot of
time at the beach?

Yes.

Yes, it's where Whit and I are writing.
He's rented a place.

Hardly the ideal situation
to avoid distractions.

Actually, it's very conducive
to creative collaboration.

I've already told you that treatment's
a waste of time.

Didn't they say the same
thing about Psycho?

Are you and Whit
having an affair?

Oh, don't be absurd!

He's working on something new,
he just needs a little help, that's all.

Oh, what a coincidence.

I'm working on something new
and I could use a little help, too!

What do you think
I've been doing?

Why are you spending
all the hours of day

and night with that
talentless mummy's boy?

Because it's fun!

I'm under extraordinary pressures
on this picture...

and the least you could do
is give me your full support!

Full support?

We've mortgaged our house!

And might I remind you,

I have weighed in on every aspect
of this film so far...

as I have done on every film you've made
in the last three decades.

The first time
you show the film,

it will be my
notes that you want.

I celebrate with you
when the reviews are good,

I cry for you
when they are bad.

I host your parties...

and I put up with those fantasy romances
with your leading ladies.

And when you're out promoting this film
around the world...

I will be there beside or, rather,
slightly behind you...

smiling endlessly for the press,
even though I'm ready to drop.

And being gracious to people who look
through me as if I were invisible...

or elbow me aside,
because all they can see...

is the great and glorious genius,
Alfred Hitchcock.

And now,
for the first time in years...

I dare to work on something that isn't
an Alfred Hitchcock production...

and I'm met with accusations
and criticisms?

The work I am doing with Whit
gives me pleasure and purpose...

and it takes absolutely
nothing away from you!

Consider this a reminder.
I am your wife, Alma Reville...

not one of those contract blondes
you badger and torment...

with your
oh-so-specific directions.

Well, I guess
this is goodbye.

Why didn't you stay with me?

I would have made you as big a star
as Grace Kelly.

Well, unlike Grace Kelly,
I can pick up my own dry-cleaning.

I've got a family,
Hitch, a home.

That blonde woman of mystery
you're always after?

She's a fantasy.

She doesn't exist.

There was a time when I thought
I understood you.

Understood women.

Alma!

I thought you were coming
later this afternoon.

I thought you rented this place
so we could write.

I did.

You're not going to say anything,
are you?

Don't worry,
I won't tell Elizabeth.

I mean to Hitch.

Alma...

we can't all be geniuses.

You're incredibly talented.

After all, we want him to read the script
with an open mind, don't we?

I wouldn't worry
about that, Whit.

Sheriff, please.
I'm worried.

Arbogast said he'd call as soon
as he spoke with Mrs. Bates.

That was yesterday evening.

Norman
isn't married.

Well, he said
it was his mother.

Your detective saw Norman's mother
up at the motel?

In the upstairs' window.

He rang me right after
she called out to him.

Missy, I think your detective
must be a few cups in.

Mrs. Bates d*ed of strychnine poison
more than ten years ago.

Are you sure?

That body was
black and blue...

This is
my favorite place.

I just shut the door...

make the world go away.

Don't you ever
get lonely out here?

I can always
talk to my mother.

Open up! Police!

That's strange.

Jesus Christ,
I think we've found his hiding place!

That's my mother's room.

That's my mother's room.

You can't go in there!

Don't go in my mother's room!

Hitch!

Hitch!

So, what's the verdict?

Let's just say it was a four-letter review,
and it wasn't "good."

Screw him!

It's too late for Paramount to back out,
no matter what Balaban says.

You know, the other
route is to recut it

as a two-parter
for the TV series.

Because of the budget
and the Hitchcock name,

we stand a good
chance of breaking even.

Look, I made Jimmy Stewart
a millionaire on Winchester '73.

And that was a dog.
At least I could sit through your picture.

More importantly...

what does Alma think?

I was afraid you'd
try to blame yourself.

I'm not talking of blame.

Lee, how can you make plans
when you're so confused?

Whit must have
enjoyed writing for Colbert.

How was the beach?

Cold and miserable.

Just like
Barney Balaban's face.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Poor old Whit.

He isn't worth a damn
when he's not working with you.

Neither am I.

I couldn't pull off
the picture this time.

It just sits there.

Refusing to come to life.

Well, there's no other way of saying it,
is there?

It's stillborn.

I let you down, my love.

You deserve better.

I better go and feed
Geoffrey and Stanley.

Come on, boys.

Come on.

Good boys.

I don't think I can stand us
both being maudlin.

That tiresome little
Hitchcock imitation

I've been helping
Whit finish is done.

You know, there's only one solution
to all this.

That we get back
to work together.

The fact is, I rather like
living in this house.

So I suggest,
for everyone's sake,

we start whipping
Psycho into shape.

You may not be the easiest man
to live with...

but you do know how to cut a picture
better than anyone else.

Except for you.

The second take,
the light is much better on the hands.

Only cut back to Janet
once her car's already moving.

Cut it tighter.

Oh, you imp.
You've got nudity in there!

Well, her breasts
were rather large.

It was a challenge
not to show them.

You'll have to cut those
six or seven frames...

where she blinks
after she's supposed to be dead.

Alma, we've viewed the film
a thousand times.

She does not blink.

How's it going in there?

Swimmingly.

Well, everyone's saying
it's like a dog with fleas.

No, absolutely not.

I do not want music
over the shower m*rder scene.

But what Alma and I talked about
is really going to play.

Bernie, this is not Vertigo.
It's not a romantic movie!

The images must
work on their own.

Yes, but you can't scare people
just by going "boo."

All right, you do it then.
You know best.

Hitch, they have to anticipate it.
Just take a step back!

Well, thank God
we have Cinderfella for the holidays.

Bernard's got some
unbelievable music. Just listen.

What do you think?

I think I'll never
have a shower again.

Hitch?

It's getting there.

I distinctly saw both the stabbing
and the nudity.

What you think
you're seeing

is purely informed by
the power of suggestion.

I assure you,
once you view the final version...

with Mister Herrmann's
lovely, lyrical score...

A lyrical score is not going
to change my opinion.

We're denying your seal.

Geoffrey, would you mind
if we had a word in private, please?

Thank you.

Now, look here...

I have a modest
proposal to make.

If you're willing to leave the
shower sequence as it is...

I will reshoot the opening love scene
to your exact specifications.

In fact, I would welcome your
personal supervision on the set.

To my specifications?

Well, of course,
my dear fellow.

If only audiences
could fully comprehend...

how tirelessly you work
to help us entertain them...

while protecting them from filth
and indecency, well...

He's been harassing you since you announced
this project...

you invite him to the set,
and he doesn't even show up.

I mean,
what did you tell him?

That I respected him deeply.

Ladies and gentlemen,
that is a wrap.

Thank you all very much.

Thank you, John.
Thank you, Janet.

I thought we were
reshooting the scene.

The charade is over.

Thank you.

See? I wasn't that much of a monster
to work with, was I?

Not at all.

And I hope I was sufficiently
loyal to the cause.

Worthy of a
Purple Heart, my dear.

I hope you don't mind...

I told Mrs. Bates she could use
your dressing room.

That's splendid. Splendid.

Yes.

Thank you.

Thank you.

We have the seal
from the Shurlock office.

So now, we'll lead the lambs
to the slaughter.

Paramount confirmed
they're only opening

the movie in two theaters,
as we suspected.

And no premiere.

If we don't get word
of mouth, we're dead.

Then, we'd better get started.

Peggy, take a memo.

We're going to write a manual
on how to sell Psycho.

My first instruction
to theater owners...

hire Pinkerton guards to strictly enforce
our unique admission policies.

There may be
riots here tonight.

Because Psycho
is so terrifying and unique...

the guards can help you deal
with customers who run amuck.

Post our special
lobby clocks...

... to remind audiences of the
starting times for Psycho.

The manager
of this fine motion picture theater...

has been advised not to allow
anyone to enter the theater...

once Psycho begins.

Now, should you be so foolish
as to attempt to slip in...

by a side entrance,
a fire escape or through a skylight...

you will be ejected
by brute force.

More playful, darling.

To further emphasize
the sheer, unrelenting shock...

and suspense of Psycho...

right after the closing
title, "The End"...

we strongly recommend
that you close your house curtains...

over the screen for
a full 30 seconds.

By doing so...

the horror of Psycho
will be indelibly etched...

in the mind and heart
of your audience.

Sincerely and emphatically...

Alfred Hitchcock.

Well, at least there are some people here,
Hitch.

We've roped off
some seats for you.

All right. You go on ahead.

- Oh, are you sure?
- Yes, I'll be with you in a moment.

I'm just going to check the prints,
you go on.

All right, darling.
We'll save you a seat.

All right, go on.

- This way, Mister Hitchcock.
- Mmm-hmm.

I just got off the phone with Balaban.
He said, "Congratulations.

"A well-deserved triumph,
as we always knew."

"As we always knew."

Does this mean
I can take the weekend off now?

Yes, dear,
and thank you so much.

Where's Alma?

Go on.

Alma, come here.

You know, darling,
this could be

the biggest success
of your career.

Our career.

You know, Alma...

I will never be able to find
a Hitchcock blonde...

as beautiful as you.

I've waited 30 years
to hear you say that.

And that, my dear,
is why they call me...

The Master of Suspense.

And so, gentle viewers...

Psycho turned out to be
one of my greatest achievements.

And Alma and I got
to keep the house...

and the swimming pool.

But you know what
they say in Hollywood.

"You're only as good
as your last picture."

So, if you'll excuse me,
I had better toddle away...

to begin the exhaustive search
for my next project.

Unfortunately,
I find myself, once again...

quite bereft of
any inspiration.

However...

I do hope something
comes along soon.

Good evening.