Mother Just Isn't Herself Today

I wanted to really put together today a comprehensive final essay on my favorite horror film, Psycho (1960). A road trip that ends in murder, revelation of missing folks found in a swamp, a young taxidermist trapped in a private hell with Mommy issues and personality disorder, stolen cash taken from a obscenely wealthy investment client to help a lover pay off debts, hot summer sex in cheap Phoenix hotels, the private investigator too inquisitive for his own good, a skeletal corpse kept in grandma clothes and granny wig, loud voices arguing back and forth between "mother and son" about dirty girls and sin, a voyeuristic look-see through a hole in the wall to an adjacent hotel room bathroom, a sleepy declining hotel with plenty of vacancies dying thanks to a highway, an impatient sister refusing to sit idly by while others look for her missing sibling, the subliminal nuanced symbolism of different colored undergarments, and a chatty psyche doc with quite a lot of exposition to parlay to the police and those who turned over quite a secret centered on a sinister old relic of multiple stories perched on high with steps that lead right to where Janet Leigh stops and falls prey while nude and bathing in the shower.