A take on classic horror

Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho was the mother of all horror movies, the quintessential template for an inexhaustible chain of later horror films.

The shower scene’s graphic violence curled everyone’s toes, sent chills down spines and ultimately scared a generation of women into opting for baths.

Numerous writers have borrowed Hitchcock’s 1960 model and created their own variation mainly by ramping up the in-your-face blood and gore.

But you certainly don’t need a strong stomach to see Mote, playwright JosĂ© Teodoro’s theatrical variation now playing as a Blarney Production at La CitĂ© Francophone until May 17.

This low budget production is definitely not a bloodcurdler, but more of an intellectual exercise that creates the requisite degree of edge and curiosity.

The audience sits in L'UniThéâtre’s two balconies peering down on the main floor set. Its concrete floor fringed by black curtains on all four sides radiates the feeling of a prison chamber.

Teodoro’s version explores the personal angst of each character. There’s the additional “what if” one incident had happened differently and created an altered domino effect of circumstances.

Sticking close to Hitchcock’s format, the play gets off to a slow start as Marion Crane steals $40,000 cash from her employer and drives to California to be with her boyfriend.

Marion is trapped in her life and is desperate to escape. On the way to freedom, she takes a wrong turn and ends up at a rundown, isolated motel that is really a haunted house.

Norman, the stuttering, shy manager appears to be a nice guy, but he has a few secrets of his own. While nonchalantly eating a sandwich, Norman watches Marion change clothes and he keeps the poisoned corpse of his mother in a back room.

Later, under a starry sky, Norman and Marion share their secrets. She is a fugitive. He is a monstrous murder. Both are imprisoned by their acts. Together they concoct a scheme to make Marion disappear that will give both a measure of freedom. But not everything goes according to plan.

Like Hitchcock’s Psycho, there’s a slow build-up. Unlike Psycho, which is laced with visceral action, Mote takes us straight into the mind of the characters by breaking the fourth wall. It is through a series of monologues and narrations, some quite lengthy, that we hear the characters’ inner thoughts, desires and motivations.

And, like Hitchcock, Teodoro does his share of leg pulling. Consequently, the final scene with its unexpected twist ending tends to feel contrived.

Wayne Paquette reveals his strength as a director in marshalling his cast and keeping up a degree of suspense in a story that is so renowned.

Twilla MacLeod as Marion, a woman running from her past to an uncertain future, brings a dominating, vampy quality to a role that spells intrigue.

Luc Tellier, as the disturbed Norman, plays his part as the sweet guy no one sees as a murderer. But he’s too – well – normal. We rarely see odd character traits that suggest he’s lost his grip on reality.

Chris Schultz is delightful as Sam, Marion’s cigarette smoking, drinking homophobic boyfriend, and Morgan Smith delivers a straight-laced equilibrium as Lila, Marion’s caretaker sister.

One of the play’s most watchable moments is between the swaggering Cassidy (Murray Utas), a millionaire who pays $40,000 cash for a house and the overly eager Richmond (Dave Horak), a real estate broker and Marion’s employer. The two stage veterans have remarkable chemistry and push their characters to the limit.

Ironically, I left Mote wishing there was less Hitchcock and more of Teodoro’s version unravelling slowly bit by bit. Now that could be a chilling contemporary tale.