In Defense Of: “Psycho II” (1983)

It’s fitting, then, that Norman is a Universal Pictures character, as the tragedy at the heart of his existence pairs well with some of the classic monsters the studio brought to life decades before he ever showed up. Little touches, like the way he stumbles through the word “cutlery” or how he accidentally touches the hot window at the diner, help humanize him, and when Warren Toomey (Dennis Franz) turns up at the diner, eager to start a fight by repeatedly calling him “psycho” and goading Norman into grabbing a knife, the way other patrons immediately leave or hide in the background underscore how his history will always follow him.

No matter what he does, he’ll always be a sort of Frankenstein’s monster wandering Fairvale, California, some of its villagers just waiting for the moment the misunderstood resident does something wrong so they can light their torches and go on the hunt, with Toomey representing the type of extremist ready to rally them without a second thought. It’s uncomfortable to watch – in a good way, of course – because Norman genuinely tries hard to be both the bigger person when it comes to his detractors and strong in the face of creeping insanity.

And that insanity creeps in in many forms. Norman sees Mother watching him from the window of the house. She calls him repeatedly. Her barren room inexplicably becomes furnished and restored to normal only to revert states just as mysteriously. Mother leaves a note at the diner for him that only he sees before it vanishes. Two teens sneak into the house thinking it’s abandoned to do drugs and have sex – in the only scene that truly sticks out as feeling as pandering to the genre sensibilities of the time – only for one to be murdered by Mother, conveniently after Norman passes out upstairs and isn’t seen again until waking up after the murder takes place.

Is it Lila? It is Toomey? Is it Norman? The film throws out many possibilities throughout its runtime, proving or disproving them all along the way until the whole truth is revealed in the end – which I’ll get to soon – and Psycho II does a great job slowly unraveling it all, with each new revelation giving the audience the chance to re-contextualize and re-evaluate everything they’ve seen. And when it finally exposes that Mary is Lila’s daughter and that the two have been working to drive Norman mad, Psycho II really hammers home its examination of whether or not to sympathize with Norman and his rehabilitation.

In many ways, Mary and Lila represent us and our expectations about the film: Mary is the convert, the audience member going into Psycho II expecting one thing only to discover another, ultimately siding with Norman because she takes the time to get to know him and give him a chance. Lila is the obsessive, the audience member who doesn’t want to see Jason Voorhees put down his machete and join the Peace Corps, who roots so hard for Norman to be crazy that she ultimately helps recreate the very thing she wanted to avoid in the first place.