The Murderer's Mother: Arlene's Identity & Self Perception

On Tuesday in class we discussed the significance of Arlene’s perspective towards the end of the book; questions of why her chapter was even included, in terms of its benefit to the reader, were raised. It didn’t really provide any closure, and instead prompted more questions. We see Arlene going to see Psycho, filled with confusing expectations: “the anticipation had been replaced by a sense of confirmation, that her deep suspicion of the Actress and the Director would reveal that they had been up to something” (Muñoz, 201.) This sentence alone begs more questions, as opposed to answering the existing ones. Even Arlene doesn’t even know what she is expecting, but she knows that she’s expecting something—something likely deeply personal to herself. She eagerly waits to see her own motel on the screen: “All along, Arlene thought she would see her motel or even a replica of it. For all her hopes of seeing her place on the screen as a confirmation that she existed in the world, the story was set in Arizona, a woman in a bra and a man bare chested in a hotel chair. Arlene almost stood up, indignant…” (Muñoz, 202.) She hopes to see herself represented, but then is disappointed when the character she identifies with is dressed promiscuously on screen. She has such a personally offended reaction that it is almost as if she thinks the audience would consider her promiscuous because of the actress. She is then offended at the portrayal of the man she associates with her son: Norman Bates, the murderer. There is a lot to be said about the fact that she identifies so strongly with the murder victim of her cinematic son. But I think what’s more important is the fact that Arlene craved some sort of representation in the movie, and was heartbroken not to get it. She ends up leaving right before the murder takes place onscreen, telling herself it is because of the nudity. As she leaves she sadly notes to herself that while this all feels monumental for her, she is sure no one in the theater will note her personal connection to the movie.

Earlier on in the novel we see Arlene’s desire for the town of Bakersfield to move on from her son’s crime. She wonders, “how much time would pass before people began to ask her questions directly? How thick would the silence be when she walked over to a table of customers and everyone politely gave their orders?” (Muñoz, 169.) The desire not to have your identity usurped by the fact that your son is a murderer is understandable. However, in this scene at the movie theater, it becomes apparent that once the town has actually forgotten, Arlene wants them to remember again. Arlene strangely associates her own identity with Teresa’s death: “People were going to forget that girl, Arlene realized. Just as they were beginning to forget her—Arlene Watson,” (Muñoz, 206.) My theory on this is that Arlene feels like a piece of herself died when Dan killed Teresa. From then on out, she thought she would only be seen as the murderer’s mother. But the knowledge that she is the murderer’s mother also implies a knowledge that she was something else before that. Now that even that identity has been taken from her, Arlene has been reduced to nothing. If the person she was after the murder has been forgotten, then the person she was before the murder has certainly been forgotten as well. Arlene’s interactions with the Actress and the Director occurred shortly before Dan murdered Teresa. In a way, the movie is a relic of this idyllic past. When Arlene doesn’t see herself—as she perceives herself—reflected in Psycho, it is confirmation that her identity, and any outside perception of her at all, is entirely gone.

What’s interesting, though, is that Arlene is wrong about that. There is still someone perceiving her. Candy notices her walking out of the theater, and Candy makes the connection between the movie and Arlene’s own life. However, even this doesn’t indicate any sort of profound understanding of Arlene’s character and suffering on Candy’s part. Candy’s perception of Arlene is yet another facet of Candy’s self-serving creation of the story of Teresa’s death. A fleeting mention of Arlene at the movie comes in the midst of Candy’s sexual fantasy: “the dark silhouette stalked out of the theater in disgust, in shame at what she had been forced to see,” Muñoz, 251.) This description provides very little in terms of adding more depth to Arlene’s character. The fact that Candy—in her superficial way— is the only person who sees Arlene at the time of the movie further demonstrates the “movie-like” quality of the novel. Candy is always seeing through a window, imagining, extrapolating. So, despite the fact that Candy sees Arlene, Arlene’s character is still not really understood in the way that she craves, as she is simply made into a background character to flesh out Candy’s fantasy.