Franchise Expansion (Or Implosion): ‘Psycho’ (1998)

Franchise Expansion (or Implosion) is a column that looks at franchises that have new installments or releases forthcoming. In looking at a franchise, each entry in a franchise will be given a review and then be examined as part of the bigger franchise. (i.e., Was this sequel a worthy expansion of this franchise or was it an implosion of sorts?)

There are very few films that are unquestionably considered cinematic classics. Productions that transcend genre and connect with all audiences. Some of these movies are beloved; others are infamous, and a rare few are considered both. Alfred Hitchcock‘s Psycho (1960) is one of these rare gems. But what happens when an unassailable classic becomes a franchise? Well, let’s check into the “newly renovated” Bates Motel and find out about Psycho (1998), shall we?

Filmmakers at the height of their careers tend to cash in the proverbial blank check for projects they couldn’t otherwise make. And who could blame them; who among us wouldn’t do the same given the rare chance? Director Gus Van Zandt (When We Rise) did just that in the late 1990s. The director had made a name for himself in that time’s exploding indie film scene with back-to-back independent dramas — Drugstore Cowboy (1989) and My Own Private Idaho (1991). From then on, Van Zandt worked successfully throughout the 90s, going back and forth between helming music videos for popular bands and independent dramatic feature films. All of this arguably hit its apex in the 1998 Oscar season, during which Van Zandt’s film, and one of the best movies of that decade, Good Will Hunting (1998), would receive universal praise from both audiences and critics, as well as rule the awards season. It won the Academy Award for Best Picture, and Van Zandt was nominated for Best Director.

As a result, all the studios and major talent in Hollywood were eager to work with Van Zandt on whatever project he wanted to pursue next. Thus, when the director took a meeting with Universal Pictures, he went in with his independent spirit brimming. Being all too aware of the leverage he held in Tinseltown then, Van Zandt pitched the studio on what he thought would be a total lark. That “lark,” of course, being a nearly shot-for-shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock‘s (1899-1980) Psycho (1960), but set in modern times. Much to Van Zandt’s surprise and perhaps mild shock, Universal immediately went for the idea. While it’s never been explicitly stated, I can only imagine that the studio jumped at what Van Zandt thought of as a film school experiment-type recreation of Hitchcock’s classic with what turned out to be a massive misconception in mind. Surely a hot indy filmmaker remaking one of the most famous films ever would equal bookoo bucks. The studio’s only stipulation was that Van Zandt’s “recreation” could not be in black-and-white, which the filmmaker was not interested in anyway.

Before proceeding with production, Van Zandt sought and received the blessing of Hitch’s daughter, Patricia Hitchcock (1928-2021), who also had a brief role in the original film as Marion’s co-worker, Caroline. It’s said that she thought her father would have loved the idea of Psycho being remade shot-for-shot. I’m afraid I have to disagree with the late Ms. Hitchcock’s sentiment, but Hitch was her dad, after all. It’s worth pointing out, though, that Hitchcock did remake one of his films. In 1934, he directed The Man Who Knew Too Much, starring Peter Lorre (1904-1964). Nearly 25 years later, he remade that picture, headlined by James Stewart (1908-1997) and Doris Day (1922-2019). However, Hitch did not do so shot-for-shot when he remade his work. In fact, the two iterations are very different.

With Hitchcock’s permission granted, the modern recreation moved full steam ahead — no doubt that Universal and most involved in this remake felt fully confident of success. Furthermore, I’m sure the studio was thrilled not to have to hire a screenwriter or composer as the original 1960 film’s screenplay by Joseph Stefano (1922-2006) and musical score by Bernard Herrmann (1911-1975) would be utilized for this remake. Interestingly, or perhaps ironically enough, new sets for the Bates house and motel were constructed directly in front of the original sets, which remain on the Universal backlot. Considering how copy-and-pasted this remake is, the only reason the new sets were constructed is that the motel in this film has a more understandably modern look.

One thing the film couldn’t use again, of course, was the cast. On the contrary, this project — be it lazy or inspired if only in a gonzo fashion — drew in all the rising stars and notable character actors alike. A star would need to portray the 1998 version of Marion Crane. Nicole Kidman, who was previously Van Zandt’s leading lady in the darkly comedic erotic thriller To Die For (1995), was reportedly offered the role. While Kidman would have been solid in the part, she has a natural confidence that she can’t shake no matter who she plays. Now, despite seeming like a backhanded compliment toward any actor, in Kidman’s case, it’s part of what gives her such a strong screen presence on screen.

Ultimately, Kidman couldn’t take on the iconic role due to scheduling conflicts. So, in her stead, Van Zandt selected another young actress to be Norman Bates’ most notorious victim. Much like Kidman, Anne Heche (1969-2022) made a name for herself after being in a string of hit pictures. The difference, though, is that while immediately identifiable, Heche was always more of a supporting character actor than a movie star. Thus, this remake was one of her rare headlining roles.

But the real question is: who could possibly be Norman to Heche’s Marion? After all, Norman Bates was in some viewers’ opinions (including my own) a role owned and defined by Anthony Perkins (1932-1992). For better or worse, Bates and Perkins were synonymous, as the actor had played the titular Psycho four previous times. If Perkins had still been alive when this creation was in production, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Van Zandt had asked him to reprise his iconic role. After all, it would have added to the experimental nature of what the director seemed to be going for with this project.

Since such casting was obviously an impossibility, the talent of young Hollywood once again came into play. Enter Vince Vaughn (of the upcoming Dodgeball 2), who, like Van Zandt, had quickly risen from indie films to major motion pictures. While known to most audiences as a comedic actor, Vaughn has done his fair share of drama. Some more recent examples of which include the crime dramas Dragged Across Concrete (2018) and Arkansas (2020), but it’s worth noting that Vaughn was oscillating between serious and funny during this time frame too. A conscious effort that’s even more impressive when you consider that the actor has been doing so since the beginning of his career.

Arguably just as crucial as Psycho‘s two most well-known characters are the film’s supporting characters, both in the original and in this remake — which is precisely why the supporting cast here consisted of equally significant talent. Julianne Moore (Sharper, May December) would take over the role of Marion’s sister and the actual female lead in both iterations of this story, Lyla Crane. Marion’s boyfriend, Sam Loomis, would be played by Viggo Mortensen. Interestingly enough, he would appear in two remakes of Hitchcock’s work in 1998. The movie in review, of course, and A Perfect Murder, a remake of Hitchcock’s 1954 film Dial M for Murder. Rounding out this cast of characters is, of course, P.I. Milton Arbogast, which would be played by Academy Award Winner William H. Macy (Maybe I Do) this time.

Just like the 1960 film, this reiteration of Psycho follows Marion Crane (Heche), who absconds with $400,000 from her employer’s wealthy client. Following her crime, Marion immediately heads off to deliver the good, albeit unethical, news to her boyfriend Sam, who lives several hours away. However, after hours on the road filled with anxiety, fatigue, and a tinge of guilt, the Phoenix, Arizona-based secretary decides to stop during a downpour at a remote lodging called the Bates Motel. Despite “recent renovations,” the roadside motel has undoubtedly seen better days. But being in the middle of nowhere, it is pretty close to Fairvale, California, where Sam lives. Thus, it will do for the night.

Upon checking in, Marion quickly becomes acquainted with the proprietor of this out-of-the-way establishment, Norman Bates. The young man is undoubtedly awkward but is very kind to his guest, offering her the utmost hospitality. And mind you, Norman is a commencement host, despite the extreme disapproval of his domineering mother. However, what would have been a refreshing overnight stay for Marion unexpectedly evolves into a violent mystery in which Sam, the heroine’s sister, Lila, and a private investigator Milton Arbogast all become entangled!

Like Psycho II (1983) and Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990) before it, my opinion on this 1998 remake has changed quite a bit over the years. When I initially rented it on VHS in high school, I remember thinking Van Zandt’s recreation of Psycho wasn’t bad. If anything, it’s as faithful as a remake can be, and one which I didn’t feel deserves all the hate it gets from audiences and critics alike. In rewatching this remake to review, there’s still no denying that it’s all-faithful. Alas, now I can understand the round hatred for this film. I would call Van Zandt’s recreation pointless, except he did have a point to make. In essentially recreating Hitchcock’s film, with a few brief and negligible additions — and pulling off that single opening tracking shot that couldn’t be executed back in 1960 — I think he pretentiously proves one thing: no matter how meticulously replicated, legendary art cannot be recaptured.

If this is indeed what the director was trying to prove, either to himself or to the audience, he succeeds. Despite being nearly a shot-for-shot remake with all the narrative and technical elements executed at an expert level, this remake lacks all of the charm, engrossing atmosphere, and suspense that make Hitchcock’s original film evergreen. Worse yet, it feels like everyone involved in making this film is incredibly conscious of precisely what they’re doing. While watching Psycho ’98, I couldn’t help but feel that every aspect of the direction was intentional to the point of feeling artificial. The most glaring example of this quality is the way the actors are being directed to act. As opposed to feeling like I was watching characters in a story, I felt like I was watching actors nearly break the fourth wall. At the same time, they did imitations of performances instead of delivering their own. This artificiality eventually becomes almost overwhelming, to the point of being irritating.

While not entirely pointless, thanks to what I interpreted as Van Zandt’s self-aggrandizing point, Psycho (1998) is a Franchise Implosion. It seems so artificial and soulless that I feel the minutes of the film’s runtime ticking by all too slowly. This remake was a truly wasted opportunity. After all, they could have done something different and made a hybrid of Hitchcock’s film and Robert Bloch’s 1959 novel, on which this entire franchise is ultimately based. I’m certainly not in the minority with my largely negative opinion of this remake, but I’ll say this for it. For better or worse, it’s the kind of experimental film a major studio would rarely, if ever, release today.

This “recreation” was an absolute flop at the box office, grossing a little over $37 million on an estimated production budget of $60 million. The film eventually profited from home video and TV deals, despite an evident disinterest from the audience. In profit or not, though, Psycho ’98 remains in disdain and largely forgotten by the mass audience or lack thereof, as it proved to be the end of this franchise theatrically. However, like many horror franchises these days, Psycho lived on as an A&E TV series entitled Bates Motel.

The mostly well-received television series ran for five seasons from 2013-2017. It explored the relationship between Norman Bates (Freddie Highmore) and his mother, Norma (Vera Farmiga), leading up to the events of Psycho. Unlike many folks, I gave the show a shot but could not get drawn into it. With the horror and crime genres tending more toward TV these days, I’m still determining what size screen the next iteration of this franchise will end up on. Although, I do not doubt that the vacancy of this franchise is only temporary.

Psycho (1998) is available on Digital HD, Blu-Ray & DVD.