Alfred Hitchcock once said that music accounts for 30% of the audience’s reaction. If only he had known that when he decided that he wanted his 1960 masterpiece Psycho to have a jazz score. Thankfully, composer Bernard Hermann saw sense, begged Hitchcock to listen to that scene with his score, overruled the auteur (and doubled his salary) and what we’re left with is arguably the most famous scene in cinema history that wouldn’t have had half the impact had it not been for the screeching violins, cellos and violas.
Everyone knows it, has seen it and has probably re-enacted it with a banana and their mum’s shower cap, but thanks to Sky and The London Soundtrack Orchestra, a lucky few were treated to a screening of the film with the score performed live before our very eyes for the first time ever. Notting Hill’s Coronet housed the event to celebrate Sky Movies Hitchcock Week, with all of his classic suspense films being shown (some for the first time on television) remastered and in HD.
All guests were greeted by dolled up ladies in vertiginous heels (one nearly feel down the stairs backwards for her efforts) offering a plethora of free goodies such as water, juice, ice cream and popcorn to patrons more than willing to take advantage. After a brief and somewhat awkward introduction by Alex Zane, conductor Ben Foster took his seat and we were off.
A good score not only fits the film but guides the story and mood of the audience, enhancing the scene without overbearing it, seeming almost unnoticeable until it’s gone. And sitting barely a metre away from Foster and his orchestra, raising their bows on cue and bringing the film to life, it hammered home how important the score is. Slight nuances that I never noticed before watching Psycho on TV were impossible to ignore, I could tell which instruments were playing and when and saw firsthand how they blended together to create the unmistakable sound.
The shower scene is so iconic it steals the thunder from the rest of the film; I almost forgot about the lullaby-like chords used primarily on the shots of Janet Leigh anxiously driving that were so brilliantly sampled in the ’90s by American rapper Busta Rhymes. The low, menacing and haunting sounds that greet her arrival at the Bates motel and, almost as importantly, the silence that slows the tempo and raises the intensity on pivotal scenes.
But of course, taking all that into account, we were still just counting down to the shower scene. Wondering what it would be like to hear – and feel – that score in the flesh. Turns out it was worth the wait. As soon as Marion Crane disrobes and turns on the shower, and we see that shadow getting closer to the curtain, the audience were noticebly sitting up in anticipation of it.
When it started, the violas actually sounded like they were screaming, the musicians arms were swiftly moving back and forth and the cello players prepared to take centre stage at the moment Leigh grabbed the curtain and slid down the shower wall. There really is no way to describe it with words; the hairs standing on end and spine tingling as everyone sat in almost stunned silence. Hitchcock would’ve been happy to know that after 49 years the film – and music – still has the desired effect. And then some.
