Hitchcock (2012)

I adore and fear Hitchcock. The filmmaker. “Hitchcock,” the new movie about the filmmaker? Not one bit. See, this is pitched as a behind-the-scenes tale of the making of the classic “Psycho.” You know, the mother of all slasher films. And, yes, we do get some of the writing, casting talks, Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh stuck in a shower with ol’ Hitch with a knife scaring the piss out of her. Those are snippets of the story. Moments. And Anthony Hopkins excels in them as Hitchcock, covered in fat makeup to play the big guy. When he “conducts” an audience reaction to the shower scene, outside a screening room, I was in movie heaven. But most of the film focuses on Hitchcock’s marriage, with his wife (Helen Mirren) nagging his ass 24/7 about avoiding snacks. God help me, it was like visiting my parents. More so, the missus launches a flirtatious affair with a Hollywood screenwriter (Danny Houston) and Hitchcock frets and fumes, and talks to the ghost of Ed Gein, the killer who inspired Norman Bates, and I wanted to slash apart this soap opera that muddies a mad genius/artist as a poor old befuddled geezer. C+