It was a screaming good time last night at the Music Center at Strathmore as the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra (BSO), played the musical score composed by Bernard Herrmann to a showing of Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece Psycho (1960).   Under the direction of conductor Constantine Kitsopoulos, a robust string section of about 30-40 orchestra members delivered a spirited musical accompaniment to the movie, with original voice track. 

The orchestra played from the stage, in front of and below an approximate 15 foot high by 25 wide projection screen, lit in blood red.  The buoyant Mr. Kitsopoulos, who has extensive experience conducting operas and musicals, elicited a seamless performance from the orchestra, which was so integrated to the frame-by-frame screen action, you lost track of it at times.   

The experience of watching the movie accompanied by a live orchestra is something like viewing a movie with subtitles; the music substituted for the words, directly below the screen, though it did not divert your attention as much, and actually improved your appreciation in translation.

This film classic (number 14 on American Film Institute's Top 100 list in 2007), and going on 50 years since it was first released, still packs them in and keeps them on the edge of their seats.  There was a sense of pleasant anticipation in the fairly full house, which was not dulled by 15 minutes of commercials and coming attractions.  The presence of an audience was a bonus - alternately shrieking in fear and knowingly laughing at the sinister lines and double entendres.

The movie fulfills the expectation of a film noire genre: there is the snappy dialogue, a shadowy black and white world where pretty much everyone's up to no good, an ingénue (Janet Leigh) and femme fatale (Anthony Perkins!!), a private eye (Martin Balsam), and a crime, several of them actually, one mundane the others unspeakable.  With masters like Hitchcock and Herrmann at the helm, the viewer is riveted from the first frame to the dénouement.  Only the finale will seem a bit contrived to today's viewer; there was noticeable laughter as the psychiatrist wrapped up the loose ends of the characterization and plot. 

Hitchcock we've all heard of, but Bernard Herrman was new to me until recently.  Orson Welles attributed 50 percent of the success of Citizen Kane to Herrmann's music according to Alex Ross in his book The Rest is Noise.  Stephen Sondheim as a teenager heard his piano concerto in an obscure movie and was so impressed he wrote Herrmann a fan letter as described by Meryle Secrest in her biography Stephen Sondheim: A Life; thirty years later he would transform the mood and use the screeching violins to his own murderous effect in the horror-opera Sweeney Todd.  Herrmann's musical resume reads like a Who's Who of 30s to 70s Hollywood films: from Welles and Hitchcock to De Palma and Scorcese (Taxi Driver) he was at the top of his game from the start of his career to his last collaboration.  A glance at his work on science fiction and fantasy films indicate his musical talents allowed him access to other worlds as well as other psychological states of mind.

The music, in tune with the compositions of the twentieth century, is dissonant and discordant in sound and minor in key. To some degree, the musical score can be described as an atonal poem. The prelude blends in nicely with the opening credits which are split, rearranged, and jarringly displayed on the big screen.  The opening contains the musical phrase or ostinato that will be used throughout to transition the action and convey a sense of urgency within and between scenes.  Ascending and especially descending notes are both skillfully used to heighten the emotions of fear and apprehension; and together with Hitchcock's continual panning of the steps up to, within, and below the Bates' house, in the cellar, worked to rachet up the tension.  The sudden use of heavy bass pulls you back, portending disaster, while the screeching violins for the rapidly shifting scenes of violence, keeps your emotional wire taut.  The music was particularly effective in setting up the scenes of remorse and guilt - superbly portrayed on screen by Ms. Leigh and Mr. Perkins.  It also worked well with the persistent and excellent Martin Balsam who tried to ask one question too many.  The movie feels long - it's less than two hours - not because its drags, but because so much takes place.

Though I had seen or walked in on the key scenes numerous times over the years - who hasn't, they are iconic - I hadn't actually seen the complete version since I was a kid, and the sophistication and complexity blew right by me then.  While you won't get the feeling of terror you would in a darkened theater, you'll feel a little unsettled at the end.

Throughout the BSO seemed pleased and the audience was too - from the offhand comments we overheard to the rousing applause of approval - at the intermission and the curtain call.  This was a rare treat to see a great movie matched with an incomparable film score, while listening to a major orchestra performing the music real time.  I hope you get a chance to see it tonight (7/10) in Baltimore at the Meyerhoff at 7:30 PM and hope that the BSO (or others) will reprise this delightful movie-going experience with many more of the same in the future.

Sound check: Excellent, moderate sound levels, with tolerable upper levels during violent scenes.  Some tweaking by sound board operator raised low voice track at beginning

Program notes: Average, an overview of musical score or listing of cues might have been included      

Applause meter: Highly recommended, 3 ½ +

Runtime: 2 hours and 15 minutes with an intermission