ALFRED HITCHCOCK AND THE MAKING OF PSYCHO by John J. McLaughlin Based on the book Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho by Stephen Rebello FADE IN: EXT. MARSHLAND - DUSK We move across smoldering embers and reach a small grass fire. Dirt is thrown over the flames before a BOOT finishes stamping them out. SUPER: PLAINFIELD, WISCONSIN, 1944 HENRY GEIN (O.S.) We're just lucky it didn't reach the trees... We move up two dirty pairs of overalls to find HENRY and ED GEIN sweating away as they continue shovelling out the flames. Both are in their forties and wearing flannel shirts. Ed wears an Elmer Fudd hat. HENRY GEIN (CONT’D) There's gonna be a lot more jobs at that factory by Milwaukee come June. I could put in a word. ED GEIN You can't leave us, Henry. She needs both of us-- HENRY GEIN Can you stop being a momma's boy for one second? Henry looks at Ed and he shrinks back. HENRY GEIN (CONT’D) I’m not trying to hurt you but Jesus you got to live your own life someday. That woman can take care of her own goddamn -- CLANG. Henry is hit by the shovel in the back of the head and goes down. Ed steps slowly forward and puts down the shovel. The look on his face isn’t anger. It’s BLANK. He pulls at the flaps of his Elmer Fudd hat... then calmly walks away. The camera pans until we discover : ALFRED HITCHCOCK in his trademark black Mariani suit. He’s been watching the whole thing, standing in the smouldering field only a few feet away, holding a rose-patterned cup and saucer of tea... (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: He takes a sip and turns to address the camera -- ALFRED HITCHCOCK Good evening. He places his cup daintily back on the saucer. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) Brother has been slaying brother since Cain and Abel, yet even I did not see that coming. I was as blind-sided as poor Henry over there. He glances back over at the murder scene. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) Apparently the authorities shared my naivete and believed the young man’s tale that Henry fell and hit his head on a stone and died of smoke asphyxiation. He shrugs: ‘Who would’ve thought it?’ ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) Of course if they hadn’t believed him, Ed never would have had the opportunity to commit the heinous acts for which he became famous... and we wouldn’t have our little movie. Instead, we’d have more nice, safe, predictable ones like these... CUT TO: A RAPID MONTAGE OF CLIPS from various Technicolor Films of the era: Peyton Place, with Lana Turner and Betty Field. Pillow Talk with Doris Day and Rock Hudson. A Summer Place with Sandra Dee -- EXT. MARSHLAND - AS BEFORE ALFRED HITCHCOCK Mere Technicolor baubles. He shudders with distaste. As if on cue the sky THUNDERS LOUDLY above him. He looks up and from behind the tree stump produces an umbrella. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) Ah. A bit of doom and gloom. Now, that’s more like it. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: As Hitch opens his brolly and the RAIN starts to bucket down we -- CUT TO : EXT. MARQUEE OF UNITED ARTISTS THEATER, CHICAGO - NIGHT Equally torrential rain lit up by rotating KLEIG LIGHTS as they scan a MARQUEE: “WORLD PREMIERE! NORTH BY NORTHWEST. DIRECTED BY ALFRED HITCHCOCK.” JOSTLING CROWDS run the length of the block. SUPER: JULY 8, 1959. A PUDGY HAND discreetly squeezes a tiny, delicate one. ALFRED AND ALMA HITCHCOCK Step out into a sea of FLASHBULBS. Hitch basks in the limelight while Alma, his razor-sharp, charming wife of over 30 years stands in the background, uncomfortable with all the attention. Hitchcock’s agent LEW WASSERMAN, 45, dynamic, charismatic, comes into view. LEW WASSERMAN This thing is going to be gigantic. I wish I had twenty percent of the take. Lew hustles them through the throng of REPORTERS and PHOTOGRAPHERS under their BLACK UMBRELLAS. REPORTER ONE Does tonight's incredible reaction surprise you, Mr. Hitchcock? ALFRED HITCHCOCK No, when I was planning North by Northwest I could already hear the screams and laughter. (then, to a BEAUTIFUL BLONDE FAN) Any questions, my dear? The blonde fan, holding out her autograph book, shakes her head ‘no’ and giggles. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) A pity. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: The reporters crack up. Alma manages a polite smile as Lew helps her into the limo, leaving Hitchcock alone for a moment to sign his autograph for the blond fan... REPORTER TWO Mr. Hitchcock, you’ve directed forty-six motion pictures. You host a hit TV show seen around the world. You’re the most famous director in the history of the medium... but you're sixty years old. Shouldn’t you just quit while you’re ahead? HOLDING ON HITCHCOCK motionless and quietly devastated as FLASHBULBS CRACKLE over his face. The whiteness transforms into... INT. THE HITCHCOCKS' BEL AIR HOME - BATHROOM - MORNING THE GLEAMING WHITE TILES of a bathroom. We move past chrome fixtures that evoke those in Spellbound and Psycho and arrive at that same pudgy hand pouring CHATEAU CHEVAL BLANC '53 into a cut crystal glass. HITCHCOCK soaks in the tub. The champagne glass beside him, his corpulent frame is covered only by the London Times he's reading. Even in this deeply vulnerable state, he maintains the air of a haughty mischievous emperor. At the sound of a bedroom bureau being opened, Hitch’s eyes shift to the FULL-LENGTH MIRROR on the bathroom door. IN THE MIRROR We catch fleeting glimpses of Alma in a white half-slip and matching bra. She takes out some NYLONS and holds them up to the light. Hitchcock watches enthralled. He puts down his glass and shifts a little in the tub, causing the water to lap against the sides. BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Alma pauses when she hears the small splashes. Neither upset nor amused she continues about her business, taking a skirt from the drawer. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: ALMA Muhammad had the eyes of peeping Toms gouged out with arrows. Hitchcock clears his throat, rattling his paper as if he’d been reading the whole time. ALFRED HITCHCOCK Talking of arrows, did you read Mr. Weiler's review in the New York Times? Apparently, he found “the climax” to be -- and I quote -- “overdrawn.” ALMA I doubt whether Mr. Weiler has had a climax in years. Alma steps into her skirt as Hitch opens the London Times. ALFRED HITCHCOCK And how about this little grenade? (reading) North by Northwest reminds us of Hitchcock's earlier, more youthfully inventive spy thrillers." (beat) And just to drive the nail into the coffin, there's a handy accompanying guide to the new masters of suspense. Hitchcock zeroes in on the photographs. They’re all young. Thinner. And with hair. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) Why do they keep looking for new masters of suspense when they still have the original? ALMA Don’t be maudlin, you know how much it aggravates me. He catches his reflection in the mirror again and sinks further down into the water to hide his protruding belly. Alma comes in, takes the newspapers from him and puts them on the side. ALMA (CONT’D) Stop reading them. You’ve been reading them for a week now. She puts down the TOILET SEAT and sits on it. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: (2) ALFRED HITCHCOCK Tell me, dear. Am I really too old? ALMA Yes. A true relic. And lest we forget, a notably corpulent one. She comes over and kisses the top of his head. ALFRED HITCHCOCK You always know precisely where to plunge the dagger, don't you? ALMA Right between the shoulder blades. I learned it from your pictures. She moves off to the mirror to apply lipstick and Hitchcock surreptitiously picks up the papers again... ALFRED HITCHCOCK Where are you off to? ALMA I'm seeing Whit for brunch after I drop you off at the studio. Why don't you join us? ALFRED HITCHCOCK We've just established that I'm too corpulent to be seen in broad daylight. ALMA You'll feel better as soon as you find a project. Hasn’t Peggy unearthed any decent books yet? ALFRED HITCHCOCK Sleeping pills with dust jackets. Alma steps back to inspect herself in the full-length mirror. Today’s outfit is, we sense, rather more stylish than what she would ordinarily wear. ALMA Well? Hitch’s gaze never leaves the photo gallery of his younger rivals in the ‘New Masters of Suspense’ article... ALFRED HITCHCOCK Very presentable. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: (3) ON ALMA As she elegantly masks her hurt. ALMA Hurry up, darling. You're pruning. She leaves. Hitch grumbles and tosses his paper aside. He rises from the depths but suddenly loses his balance and grabs onto the SHOWER CURTAIN, wrenching it from the METAL RINGS on the rod. A GOD’S EYE view, looking down, as Hitchcock stares up at the metal rings SPINNING NOISILY on the metal rod. EXT. THE PARAMOUNT STUDIOS, BRONSON GATE - DAY The FAMOUS MOUNTAIN TOP icon looms large. TWO GUARDS snap-to for the arrival of Hollywood royalty. FIRST GUARD Mr. Hitchcock. Mrs. Hitchcock. Alma waves from the wheel of a GLEAMING BLACK 1957 CADILLAC. Hitchcock sits next to her. He has his two SEALYHAM TERRIERS on his lap. He nods, awaiting more. FIRST GUARD (CONT’D) (to the dogs) Sirs. EXT. PARAMOUNT STUDIOS, PRODUCERS’ BUILDING - DAY The Cadillac pulls up. Alma notes Hitchcock’s look of frustrated envy as CREW MEMBERS bustle in and out of STAGE 15. It’s a hive of activity. ALMA There's a story out there waiting for you somewhere, Hitch. I promise. He gives her a good-bye peck and opens the door. ALMA (CONT’D) Don’t forget your lunch. Alma hands him a compact Fortnum & Mason basket and pats him on his girth. He opens it to discover CELERY AND CARROT STICKS wrapped in Saran. OMITTED INT. HITCHCOCK'S OFFICE, PARAMOUNT - DAY Luxurious, wood-paneled and very British. Hitch sits restlessly behind his desk, receiving his morning shave from his private barber, SILVIO. His longtime assistant, PEGGY ROBERTSON, 40s, crisp, British, fiercely protective of her boss, is going through a list of potential projects. PEGGY Fox is offering you The Diary of Anne Frank for the third time. Hitch directs his response to Silvio. ALFRED HITCHCOCK 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, Silvio? SILVIO Si. Hitch reaches for a carrot stick and CRUNCHES it. PEGGY MGM wants you for the Ian Fleming book, Casino Royale, with Cary Grant. Definitely your style. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (again, turning to Silvio) Doesn’t she know I just made that movie? It's called North by Northwest. And “style” is merely self-plagiarism. Silvio nods, then recommences the shave. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) I’m treading water, Peggy. I need something fresh. Something different. Without expensive stars like Cary Grant or Miss Kim Novak to pretty it up. Silvio unintentionally nicks Hitch’s face. ALFRED HITCHCOCK (CONT’D) A nice, clean, nasty little piece of work. Silvio hurriedly dabs away a speck of BLOOD. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: PEGGY I’ll see what I can find. Hitch motions for the barber to hold up the mirror. The image of his face overflows the small frame. Repulsed, he leans back his head and makes a hand motion for Silvio to SLIT HIS THROAT. CONTAGIOUS LAUGHTER (PRE-LAP) INT. CHASEN’S RESTAURANT - DAY Alma lunches with screenwriter-novelist WHITFIELD COOK. “WHIT,” 50s, is Hitchcock's physical opposite -- dashing, razor-sharp and sophisticated. In fact he’d be at home in one of his movies. WHITFIELD COOK ... Thank God I had a pocketful of pretzels. I was hiding in that props cupboard all night. (then) That’ll teach me to use a bedroom set instead of the real thing. ALMA Serves you right. They laugh uproariously, quite at ease with each other. ALMA (CONT’D) Hitch always said your private life was in danger of being more entertaining than any of your plots. He pours Alma another glass of wine, not remotely insulted. WHITFIELD COOK I can’t believe he let me have you all to myself for a whole afternoon. Especially looking this beautiful. He clinks her glass. WHITFIELD COOK (CONT’D) Très chic. Alma turns to look at the menu again. ALMA All this relentless sycophancy is giving me indigestion. (MORE) (CONTINUED)