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Psycho Page #13
- R
- Year:
- 1960
- 109 min
- 858,496 Views
He hangs the sign on the door, ushers Lila out, closes door
behind him.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - (DAY)
They emerge from the store and walk along to the hotel. As
they enter, Arbogast is in the act of taking over a white
Ford sedan from a rental car man. They glance at him and he
returns a cynical look.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. HOTEL - (DAY)
Outside another hotel we see Arbogast alight from the white
car and go into new hotel.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - (DAY)
The white car speeding along the highway.
DISSOLVE TO:
Arbogast going into the office - we see the sign above him.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BATES' MOTEL - (DAY)
A high shot showing the freeway and Bates house and motel on
the side old highway. A pause and then across the bottom of
the picture a white car speeds by on the freeway.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. HOTEL - (DUSK)
Another Hotel. Arbogast goes in.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BATES' MOTEL - (DAY)
The white car speeding along the freeway again going in the
opposite direction to last time. Norman, a tiny figure, is
seen going up the steps to his mother's house.
DISSOLVE TO:
Arbogast's search is getting down in the scale. This is an
entrance to a cheesy boarding house. "Rooms to Rent," etc.
He looks at his list and then goes in.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BATES' MOTEL - (DAY)
The white car goes by on the freeway again.
DISSOLVE TO:
Arbogast goes in.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. BATES' MOTEL - (TWILIGHT)
Heavy traffic on the freeway. A beat or two - again the white
car. It slows up opposite the distant motel. It makes a turn
and goes back out of scene. A pause and it reappears on the
old road and slowly makes its way toward the Bates' Motel.
EXT. THE BATES' HOUSE AND MOTEL - (TWILIGHT)
We now see Norman. He has brought out an old rocking chair
and has placed it on the office porch and is sitting hunched
in it. And he is darning one of his own socks. CAMERA HOLDS.
Beyond the porch, and Norman, we see the old house and can
barely make out, in the twilight dimness, the figure of his
mother seated at the window. Here, too, there is that quality
of quiet peace surrounded by a vague foreboding.
Now Norman looks up at the SOUND of the approaching car.
And continues looking as the car comes to a stop and Arbogast
gets out. Arbogast gives the place a quick once-over, gazes
at Norman, starts forward. In his steps and manner there is
that bored, routine-logged quality of a man who has seen too
many motels and asked question of too many hotel managers
over too short a period of time.
Norman rises as Arbogast comes forward.
NORMAN:
(shoving sock in his
pocket)
I always forget to put the sign on,
but we do have vacancy.
(Cheerfully)
Twelve in fact. Twelve cabins, twelve
vacancies.
ARBOGAST:
(pleasantly)
In the past two days I've been to so
many motels, my eyes are bleary with
neon. This is the first one that
looked like it was hiding from the
world at large.
NORMAN:
I don't really forget the sign, it
just doesn't seem... any use.
(Points)
This used to be the main highway.
(Starts for office)
Want to register, please?
ARBOGAST:
Sit down. I don't want to trouble
you, just want to ask...
NORMAN:
No trouble. Today's linen day. I
change all the beds once a week,
whether they've been used or not...
dampness. I hate the smell of
dampness.
(Opening office door)
It's such a dank smell.
Norman is holding the door open, so Arbogast walks in.
Norman follows.
INT. MOTEL OFFICE - (TWILIGHT)
Norman switches on the overhead light, starts for the linen
closet, suddenly pauses, turns, studies Arbogast, who has
remained standing by the door.
NORMAN:
You out to buy a motel?
ARBOGAST:
No.
NORMAN:
Oh. I thought... you said you'd been
to so many in two days... What was
it you wanted to ask?
ARBOGAST:
I'm looking for a missing person.
(takes out and opens
wallet and extends
it as he speaks)
My name's Arbogast, private
investigator...
(takes back wallet
when Norman doesn't
look at it)
Trying to trace a young girl who's
been missing almost a week. From
Phoenix.
(A look at Norman's
frightened expression)
It's a private matter... family wants
to forgive her...
(smiles)
She isn't in trouble.
NORMAN:
(forcing a smile)
I didn't think the police went
searching for people who weren't in
trouble.
ARBOGAST:
I'm not the police.
NORMAN:
Oh.
He waits a moment, then opens closet, starts counting out
sheets and pillow cases, keeps his back to Arbogast.
Arbogast takes a photograph out of his pocket, talks as he
crosses to Norman.
ARBOGAST:
We have reason to believe she came
this way... might have stopped in
this area...
(extends photograph,
which Norman doesn't
glance at)
Did she stop here?
NORMAN:
No. No one has stopped here in
weeks...
ARBOGAST:
Mind looking at the picture before
committing yourself?
NORMAN:
Committing myself to what? You sure
talk like a Policeman.
ARBOGAST:
Look at the picture. Please.
Norman glances, briefly, turns away, lifts sheets and pillow
cases off the shelf holds them close, almost protectively.
NORMAN:
No. At least I don't recall.
ARBOGAST:
She might have used an alias. Mary
Crane's the real name, but she
might've registered...
NORMAN:
(interrupting)
I don't even bother with guests
registering any more... I mean, little
by little, you drop the formalities.
(more relaxed, because
Arbogast is listening
with a pleasant smile)
I shouldn't even bother to change
the linen. I guess habits die hard.
Which reminds me...
He goes to the wall, flips a light switch.
NORMAN:
The vacancy sign. Just in case.
We had a couple the other night, said if the sign hasn't
been on they'd have thought this was an old deserted mining
town or something.
ARBOGAST:
Now there's a couple even remarking
about your sign, and see how easily
you forgot them?
NORMAN:
What?
ARBOGAST:
You thought no one has stopped here
in weeks. Now, try to remember if
this girl...
ARBOGAST:
(A pause, a study)
Maybe she even signed the register...
because habits die hard. Let's check
it, huh?
Norman says nothing. Arbogast goes to the desk, pulls the
registry book around, flips back a page or two.
Norman simply stares at the man. Arbogast hums faintly,
pleasantly, as he examines the pages. Then:
ARBOGAST:
Yes sir! Marie Samuels. Interesting
alias.
He takes a slip of paper out of his pocket, lays it beside
the signature in the registry book, all the while nodding
and smiling nicely, as if this discovery will make Norman as
happy as it is making him.
ARBOGAST:
Don't know where she got "Marie,"
but "Samuels" figures. Her boy
friend's name is Sam.
(Turns to Norman, the
smile gone)
Was she in disguise? Or do you want
NORMAN:
I didn't lie to you. I just have
trouble keeping track of... time.
Arbogast has reached him, the picture extended. Norman looks
dutifully at it.
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"Psycho" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Sep. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/psycho_61>.
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