Psychomosexual
Sexuality – is it nature or is it nurture? Or just an insatiable love of [insert genital here]?
Well, that’s a pretty complex question and one that’s long been debated, scrutinised and hypothesized.
I’m not here to try and answer that question directly. And if you want my opinion on it, I’m on the side of “let folk do as they please so long as they aren’t hurting anyone”, a side which I was taught showed mutual respect and common decency.
It does seem that some can’t help sticking their beaks in, they must have entirely perfect lives which is nice.
But I digress. I want to talk about my childhood obsession with a certain film series and a potential link to my sexual orientation.
Could it really be that watching a semi-naked Sylvester Stallone tussle with a sweat-dripping Dolph Lundgren on repeat for ten years would make me lust after doing the same with members of the same sex?
I jest. But maybe it did now I think of it (calls therapist).
No, the film series I’m talking about is the Psycho franchise.
WE ALL GO A LITTLE QUEER, SOMETIMES
The year is 1997. I’m ten-years-old and I’m in the horror section of Video City, a film rental shop in Bulwell, Nottingham. It was one of my favourite places in the world. The posters, the video covers and the smell of it all. Dusty plastic. Aaaah.
Second only to the adjacent comedy section, the horror section had a profound impact on me. There were a couple of reasons why I think.
One – horror films were for adults. And I was a mature kid. I hated kids TV (Rosie and Jim and The Demon Headmaster aside). I wanted to be a grown-up more than anything.
Two – films rated 15 and 18 were damn cool! I received a lot of playground kudos from the Year Six’s for having seen films like Misery, The Terminator and Predator before they had.
The only two films that were strictly forbidden by my mum were The Exorcist and South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut. I still haven’t watched either of them to this day.
Psycho got on my radar really early on, which for a 1960s black and white film is pretty unusual in itself. It certainly wasn’t the immediate film I’d mark as “seen” to those older kids at school. My dad had been to the US for a while and when he returned, he had all these photos of various things he’d seen on his travels. And a few photos were from Universal Studios and one was of the famous Psycho house.
So I was aware of it, and I had managed to record it when it was on telly late one evening.
Oddly, on first view, it sort of didn’t do too much. I reckon I would’ve been around nine when I saw it. But fast-forward a year and back to that video shop – I was taken aback. There were more?! The covers for Psycho II, III and IV were all there, Anthony Perkins’ ageing eyes staring back at me from each cover. I knew the likes of Halloween, Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street spawned loads of sequels but I didn’t realise the daddy of them all had too!
The Psycho sequels weren’t massive critical successes – although II did get some appreciation and holds a respectable 61% on Rotten Tomatoes – none of them get the credit I think they deserve.
Psycho II is a fantastic sequel completing an impossible task – how do you follow up one of the greatest films ever? Director Richard Franklin and writer Tom Holland (not that one) made it look easy. Take a rehabilitated Norman Bates, introduce his enemies (Vera Miles from Psycho returns and plays that with a devilish sense of fun) and combine with a good dose of chilling mystery.
Released in 1983, the impact of seeing an actually older Perkins and Miles made it all the more authentic. It was tight, it was scary and it had some incredible twists. And it’s better than almost all seconds in horror film franchises.
Psycho III is my favourite. You get lots of Perkins doing what Perkins does best – creepy charm – but it comes with some of that mid-eighties slasher stuff too. Anthony Perkins himself directed this one, and I think you can tell. It pays tons of homage to Hitch whilst channelling Perkins’ peculiar catalogue. There’s a jet black humour to the whole thing (always check your ice before popping a cube in your gob to suck on) and the kills are fun.
It’s a film that doesn’t take itself too seriously. It knows it’s Psycho III – and it gives people a good time. Plus Carter Burwell’s incredible score is, I think, better than legend Jerry Goldsmith’s score for II.
Psycho IV is a made-for-TV film. It was shot on location at Universal Studios Orlando and was introduced on its premiere by Janet Leigh herself! She doesn’t reprise her role, however. That would be one twist to many.
IV is a solid entry. Joseph Stefano, writer of Psycho, returns to write the screenplay. Mick Garris (Freddy’s Nightmares) directs. Allegedly Perkins gave him a hard time on set, but ultimately thanked him after for making “the best Psycho sequel.”
Praise, indeed.
A BOY’S BEST FRIEND IS HIS MOTHER
Upon news of the sequels – I decided to re-watch Psycho. It was on that second watch that something clicked – the film was obviously amazing – but of course it would take years for me to understand why. The delicious stolen money red-herring that was the first 25 minutes, what it must’ve been like seeing a mega star killed off so gorily for audiences in 1960, the fact Hitchcock made it on such a low-budget using his TV show crew to get it made. It’s a seminal film, no doubt about it.
But my interest piqued only when Norman Bates himself was on screen. I can’t think why…
I was an avid film collector as a kid, trawling car boot sales to complete various collections. Mel Brooks and Leslie Nielsen were early collector ventures. And now, it would be Anthony Perkins films.
I didn’t really know why, I was ten going on eleven, how could I? But I knew I had to see more of him.
Now the first obvious comparison to Psycho and being a classic gay guy is the love of ‘the mother’. Norman admittedly takes that a stage further than most Kylie bopping twinks do, but nevertheless it’s there. The desire to make mum proud, not to disappoint her. To live by her values.
The other less obvious lead in my thinking here is Norman Bates is not macho. He’s not the scary male villain that otherwise encompasses this genre – Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Leatherface, Freddy Krueger etc. He’s, kind of, normal. Goofy and odd, sure. But he’s handsome. He has interests (in stuffing things, like all men under 30). He’s got a little business. He works hard. He can make sandwiches and milk.
He’s not grotesque and he draws out sympathy. He’s the victim maybe. He’s certainly vulnerable.
A lot of these words might stir up feelings that hark back to when you were a baby gay.
Now, mercifully, comparisons to Norman Bates and discovering sexuality ends before the poisoning, embalming and murder sprees the films reveal. But when trying to make sense of this stuff, those echoes of familiarity can be heard.
It’s pretty clear on reflection that I had a bit of a crush on Anthony Perkins. That’s probably all it was – I managed to pick up a selection of his films on VHS, difficult as they were to come by and ranging in quality. Films like The Trial (excellent) and The Black Hole (not so excellent) were easier to find than Edge of Sanity (a joy to watch) and Crimes of Passion (curious). I remember getting especially excited about finding his final film, Into the Woods – as poor as it was.
I just wanted to see more of him.
But I was really obsessed with the Psycho sequels: “These ones are in colour” I’d cry to school friends in year seven and eight “definitely check them out!”
I’d lend my videos out, or insist on watching them at sleepovers. Friends were either bemused or into them on the level presented – but no one shared that same excitement for them that I did.
And, as far as I’m aware, none of them turned out anything other than straight.
Note to self: when Ru Paul finishes, arrange movie night instead with the gays.
PSYCHO’S CHILD
I suppose there’s a crossover here between my sexuality and my creative spark. I was interested in the films because I was interested in film – it just helped that I fancied the lead.
It’s also where the two things melded. The first proper thing I wrote at age 12 (besides my short stories as a kid, more on those another time) was the screenplay for a Psycho V – which I titled Psycho’s Child. It was ten pages long and took place some 12 years after Psycho IV. I wanted to film it – we even started rehearsing it. I, of course, would play Norman.
Anthony Perkins did that one thing any actor craves – he gets under your skin. Like Leslie Nielsen didn’t play for laughs, Perkins didn’t play for frights.
It was all in the eyes. Studying his performance taught me a lot.
And whether there is a link between that and the other, what does it matter?
I’m just pleased that I wasn’t obsessed with anything weird as a kid!
DL x
