![Find Psycho on Amazon](https://www.scripts.com/images/script/61_psycho.png)
Psycho Page #8
- R
- Year:
- 1960
- 109 min
- 858,491 Views
Without waiting for approval or disapproval, he turns, hurries
to the office. Mary looks after him, her face showing amused
sympathy, then follows.
INT. THE MOTEL OFFICE - (NIGHT)
Norman looks about, tray in hand, sees there is no reasonable
place to spread out a supper. He turns, sees Mary standing
in the doorway.
NORMAN:
Eating in an office...
(a rueful smile)
...to officious, even for me. I have
the parlor behind this... if you'd
like.
Mary nods. Norman walks on, behind the counter and into the
darkened parlor. Mary follows.
INT. NORMAN'S PARLOR -(NIGHT)
In the darkened room, lit only by the light from the office
spilling in, we see Norman placing the tray on a table. Mary
comes to the doorway, pauses. Norman straightens up, goes to
lamp, turns on the light.
Mary is startled by the room. Even in the dimness of one
lamp, the strange, extraordinary nature of the room rushes
up at one. It is a room of birds. Stuffed birds, all over
the room, on every available surface, one even clinging to
the old fashioned fringed shade of the lamp. The birds are
of many varieties, beautiful, grand, horrible, preying. Mary
stares in awe and a certain fascinated horror.
CLOSE UP - THE VARIOUS BIRDS TWO SHOT - MARY AND NORMAN
NORMAN:
Please sit down. On the sofa.
As Norman goes about spreading out the bread and ham and
pouring the milk, we follow Mary across the room. She studies
the birds as she walks, briefly examines a bookcase stacked
with books on the subject of "Taxidermy."
CLOSE UP - THE BOOKS ON TAXIDERMY MED. CLOSE SHOT - MARY
She notices, too, the paintings on the wall; nudes, primarily,
and many with a vaguely religious overtone.
Finally Mary reaches the sofa, sits down, looks at the spread.
MARY:
You're very... kind.
NORMAN:
It's all for you. I'm not hungry.
Please go ahead.
Mary begins to eat, her attitude a bit tense. She takes up a
small slice of ham, bites off a tiny bite, nibbles at it in
the manner of one disturbed and preoccupied.
Norman gazes at her, at the tiny bite she has taken, smiles
and then laughs.
NORMAN:
You eat like a bird.
MARY:
You'd know, of course.
NORMAN:
Not really. I hear that expression,
that one eats "like a bird," is really
a falsie, I mean a falsity, because
birds eat a tremendous lot.
(A pause, then
explaining)
Oh, I don't know anything about birds.
My hobby is stuffing things...
taxidermy. And I guess I'd just rather
stuff birds because... well, I hate
the look of beasts when they're
stuffed, foxes and chimps and all...
some people even stuff dogs and
cats... but I can't... I think only
birds look well stuffed because
they're rather... passive, to begin
with... most of them...
He trails off, his exuberance failing in the rushing return
of his natural hesitancy and discomfort. Mary looks at him,
with some compression, smiles.
MARY:
It's a strange hobby. Curious, I
mean.
NORMAN:
Uncommon, too.
MARY:
I imagine so.
NORMAN:
It's not as expensive as you'd think.
Cheap, really. Needles, thread,
sawdust .. the chemicals are all
that cost anything.
(He goes quiet, looks
disturbed)
MARY:
A man should have a hobby.
NORMAN:
It's more than a hobby... sometimes...
a hobby is supposed to pass the time,
not fill it.
MARY:
(after a pause, softly)
Is your time so empty?
NORMAN:
Oh, no!
(forcing brightness
again)
I run the office, tend the cabins
and grounds, do little chores for
mother... the ones she allows I might
be capable of doing.
MARY:
You go out... with friends?
NORMAN:
Friends? Who needs friends.
(Laughs, then with
gallows humor)
A boy's best friend is his mother.
(Stops laughing)
You've never had an empty moment in
your whole life. Have you?
MARY:
Only my share.
NORMAN:
Where are you going? I don't mean to
pry...
MARY:
(A wistful smile)
I'm looking for a private island.
NORMAN:
What are you running away from?
MARY:
(Alert)
Why do you ask that?
NORMAN:
No. People never run away from
anything.
(A pause)
The rain didn't last very long.
(Turning suddenly)
You know what I think? I think we're
all in our private traps, clamped in
them, and none of us can ever climb
out. We scratch and claw... but only
at the air, only at each other, and
for all of it, we never budge an
inch.
MARY:
Sometimes we deliberately step into
those traps.
NORMAN:
I was born in mine. I don't mind it
anymore.
MARY:
You should... mind it.
NORMAN:
Oh I do... but I say I don't.
(Laughs boyishly)
MARY:
(Staring at him,
shaking her head
softly.)
If anyone ever spoke to me, the way
I heard... The way she spoke to you,
I don't think I could ever laugh
again.
NORMAN:
(Controlled resentment)
Sometimes when she talks that way to
me I'd like to... curse her out and
leave her forever!
(A rueful smile)
Or at least, defy her.
(A pause, a hopeless
shrug)
But I couldn't. She's ill.
MARY:
She sounded strong...
NORMAN:
I mean... ill.
(A pause)
She had to raise me all by herself
after my dad died... I was only
five... and it must have been a
strain. Oh, she didn't have to go
out to work or anything, Dad left us
with a little something... anyway, a
few years ago... Mother met a man.
He talked her into building this
motel... We could have talked her
into anything... and when. Well...
It was just too much for her when he
died, too... And the way he died...
Oh, it's nothing to talk about when
you're eating.
(Pauses, smiles)
Anyway, it was too much of a loss
for my mother... she had nothing
left.
MARY:
(Critically)
Except you.
NORMAN:
A son is a poor substitute for a
lover.
(Turns away as if in
distaste of the word)
MARY:
Why don't you go away?
NORMAN:
To a private island, like you?
MARY:
No, not like me.
NORMAN:
It's too late for me. And besides...
who'd look after her? She'd be alone
up there, the fire would go out...
damp and cold, like a grave. When
you love someone, you don't do that
to them, even if you hate them. Oh,
I don't hate her. I hate... what
she's become. I hate... the illness.
MARY:
(Slowly, carefully)
Wouldn't it be better if you put her
in... someplace...
She hesitates. Norman turns, slowly, looking at her with a
striking coldness.
NORMAN:
An Institution? A madhouse? People
always call a madhouse "someplace."
(Mimicing coldly)
Put her in Someplace!
MARY:
I'm sorry... I didn't mean it to
sound uncaring...
NORMAN:
(The coldness turning
to tight fury)
What do you mean about caring? Have
you ever seen one of those places?
Inside? Laughing and tears and cruel
eyes studying you... and my mother
there? Why? has she harmed you?
She's as harmless as... one of these
stuffed birds.
MARY:
I am sorry. I only felt... it seemed
she was harming you. I meant...
NORMAN:
(High fury now)
Well? You meant well? People always
mean well, they cluck their thick
tongues and shake their heads and
suggest so very delicately that...
The fury suddenly dies, abruptly and completely, and he sinks
back into his chair. There is a brief silence.
Mary watches the troubled man, is almost physically pained
by his anguish.
NORMAN:
(Quietly)
I've suggested it myself. But I hate
to even think such a thing. She
needs me... and it isn't...
(Looks up with a
childlike pleading
in his eyes)
...it isn't as if she were a maniac,
a raving thing... it's just that...
sometimes she goes a little mad. We
all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't
you?
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Psycho" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Sep. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/psycho_61>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In