ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, July 28, 1995                   TAG: 9507280021
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BOB THOMAS ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: LOS ANGELES                                 LENGTH: Long


JANET LEIGH REMEMBERS PSYCHO

Ordinarily the sunniest of individuals, Janet Leigh was hopping mad. Someone had faxed her a copy of a movie reference book alleging that the notorious stabbing-in-the-shower scene of ``Psycho'' was directed by Saul Bass and not Alfred Hitchock.

``And it even says in the credits: `directed by Alfred Hitchock [and Saul Bass],' '' she ranted. ``I was in the shower! I was there every day in every shot! Bass never directed me!''

The offending volume is Leslie Halliwell's widely respected ``Film Guide.'' Aside from her own testimony, Leigh sought corroboration from Hitchcock's daughter, Patricia, and ``Psycho'' cameraman Hilton Green, who produced the film's three sequels. Bass, the famed maker of film titles, is credited as title designer and pictorial consultant for the film.

Leigh might be termed keeper of the ``Psycho'' flame. Evidence can be found in her new book, ``Psycho: Behind the Scenes of the Classic Thriller'' (Harmony Books). It tells all you need to know about the movie, from the woman who starred in arguably the most famous horror scene in movie history.

The actress talked about her literary career at the home she has long shared with businessman-husband Bob Brandt high atop the Hollywood Hills. Just turned 68, she retains the starlet figure and glamour of her MGM years. After the pique of the misplaced shower-scene credit had passed, she resumed her sunshiny attitude.

She explained that the shower scene contains between 71 and 78 short takes - ``no one knows for sure.'' Filming it for seven days was no great challenge for her, except for the 20 seconds or so of total horror as her character was being stabbed to death.

No, she wasn't nude. She wore a flesh-colored bodysuit in keeping with the movie morality of 1960.

Is it true about her bathing habits?

``That I don't take showers? Yeah,'' she confessed. ``It's not a hype, it's not something that I thought good for publicity. Honest to gosh, it's true.

``The reason is really not the filming of it. As you know, that's broken up in short takes. Before I saw the finished film, I had never realized how vulnerable you are in the shower. You're exposed, defenseless, you can't hear because of the running water. I don't like that situation. It had never dawned on me before.''

She added that she didn't have nightmares about it, nor did she feel the need to consult a shrink. She prefers the bathtub, ``where I can see the door, the water's not running, so I can hear everything. I guess I'm just a chicken at heart.''

``Psycho'' (the book) is part of a new career for Janet Leigh, who is realistic enough to know that Hollywood supplies little work for a woman her age. Ten years ago, she produced an autobiography, ``There Really Was a Hollywood.'' This fall she'll have another book on the stands, a three-generation novel.

In 1946, Jeanette Helen Morrison was a student at College of the Pacific in Stockton, Calif., when she visited her parents at a ski lodge where they were working. Her father took her photo, which actress Norma Shearer saw on a ski trip. The star sent it to Lew Wasserman, head of the talent agency MCA. He showed it to MGM, which sent for Jeanette and signed her to a $50-a-week contract.

As Janet Leigh, she became a star in her first film, appearing opposite Van Johnson in ``The Romance of Rosy Ridge.'' Her reward: a new contract at $150 a week. For the next eight years, she starred opposite MGM's top male stars.

``I couldn't have been treated better,'' Leigh said, contradicting those who complain about the big-studio system. ``First of all, they let me do loan-outs. True, they were getting more than my salary for loaning me out.

``But they also took a chance on me and paid me when I didn't earn a dime. They could have made an investment in me, and I could have turned out to be zip. I was compensated more than I ever thought I would be.

``Today, the kids like Jamie [Lee Curtis, her daughter] have to pay for their own lessons. I got them free: diction, singing, dancing. Everything I needed to learn, they taught me. They gave me the tools.''

Leigh admitted that her MGM bosses were less than thrilled when she married the new movie heartthrob Tony Curtis in 1951. So were his bosses at Universal Pictures.

``They didn't forbid us or anything,'' she said, ``they just thought we should wait. We both said if our careers depended on being single, then we were in a lot of trouble.''

After the marriage, Leigh subordinated her career to being a wife and, later, mother of two daughters.

``Nothing was forced on me; it was my choice,'' she emphasized. ``I don't want any feminists out there to get the wrong idea. It was my choice. And I never regretted it.''

After a few movies in the 1970s such as ``Mirror, Mirror,'' ``Telethon'' and ``Boardwalk,'' Leigh appeared with her daughter in John Carpenter's 1980 horror flick ``The Fog.''



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