Bates Motel is a television series which is five seasons long with each season containing ten episodes. It is the rare television series that got better as it unfolded. It is a reimagining of the characters and events in Robert Bloch’s Psycho book trilogy, which I have finally decided to read. Audiences familiar with Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho will have to leave their preconceptions at the door because the series is sufficiently different enough that if you are too attached to prior iterations, you will be too busy stomping your foot and whining, “This was not in the original” that you will miss all the good stuff.
I watched the first three seasons of Bates Motel as it aired, but I do not have cable so when Hulu stops carrying a show, I do not really notice until far too late that the series has still been airing and never stopped. Under six years later when I tried to pick up where I left off, I realized that I would have to rewatch seasons one through three if I had any hopes of following the remainder of the show. I am delighted to report that the series is better in one gulp than per episode because details matter.
During my initial viewing, Bates Motel felt overly stylized as if it was a CW nightmare Gilmore Girls that just stopped short of HBO adult content. Norman and his mom, Norma, move to White Pines, Oregon for a new start, but discover that the town is rife with corruption and find themselves unwittingly confronted with the seediness that threatens to consume them. Vera Farmiga plays Norma as a beleaguered woman whose spirit never breaks and rails with varying degrees of success against being the latest big bad’s victim. She never got the memo that the big bosses of the town should rule her, and while she knows that she is outmatched, she never gives in. She is kind of inspirational, which is why Norman’s mental disability makes a kind of sense, a tool to empowerment.
Bates Motel is at its best when focused on Norma and the Bates crew as unlikely drafted vigilantes just trying to survive a system that literally is designed to not even let them have physical autonomy. I will issue a trigger warning because every rapist targets Norma as if she is wearing a bullseye. Rape is really about power because Norma, though bruised, is never broken and has an innocent audacity that is always clueless regarding the needs of power in asserting her worthiness and refusing to bow to it other than to find a way to use that power temporarily against them through seduction or conciliatory behavior. There is enough sexual violence which feels appropriately disturbing that if it is a deal breaker, run now. Every season is brimming with it even if it is only implied and off screen.
Bates Motel is really a genius depiction of gender dynamics. People view Norma as crazy and more negatively than Norman for being a victim and emotionally reacting appropriately to being harmed instead of politely. She is a bit of a harpy. She screams in public, upbraids anyone who tries to corner and will outright lay hands on people without being deterred by her lack of physical prowess and all evidence to the contrary that she will win. She had an indomitable spirit whereas Norman is a “sensitive boy.” His brittle, tight good manners and youthful looks get him a pass for not being so typically masculine toxic as the other men in the town, but he has his own special brand of gentleman toxicity, and his take on Norma, a person whom he allegedly loves most in the world and should understand more than anyone, feels like a complete abomination and distortion.
Norman is terrifying to me in a way that most killers are not. The first three seasons of Bates Motel compares and contrasts the Bates’ way of navigating the world with the major players of the town and how their interaction ultimately leads to the completely unexpected destruction of the power structure, but each member of the Bates family chooses different ways to navigate it (join, fight and play dead) and are only successful by combining their efforts to survive then aligning themselves with someone in the power structure who never liked it anyway, an ally. When there is nothing to rail against, Norman becomes the victimizer, the one in power, and instead of the Bates versus a corrupt town, it becomes Norma versus Norman. To be fair, Norma treats him in a stricter, more unyielding way than she does a surrogate daughter whom she encourages sex positivity in and loves unconditionally. Norma treats Norman like many parents only treat their daughters and wants a relationship with him in a way that does not allow him to have a full life and relationship with other people. It is an unhealthy combination of selfishness and protectiveness, which is definitely abusive even if unintentional. At some point, the script flips, and it feels as if he is an abusive father figure, and she is the unruly daughter trying to get air. The series descends into tragedy.
Freddie Highmore does too good a job playing Norman that I could never watch The Good Doctor unless the twist is that the doctor kills everyone when no one expects it. I can imagine Farmiga and Highmore before every scene collaborating how they could really play up the most uncomfortable aspects of the relationship without actually going there. They clearly were messing with the audience in an epic fashion! Highmore plays adult Norman with the veneer of an anachronistic gentleman with the cunning of a passive aggressive cobra who is almost indiscernibly vibrating with a toddler’s rage at anything that threatens to take away his mother’s complete attention. Norman is all about control, judgment and manipulation. He is insatiable. He is already loved, coddled and praised disproportionately to his actual character, but it is never enough. When he is not completely conscious of his pathology, he is utterly misogynistic by punishing women for not adhering to unrealistic, paradoxical standards for women particularly around sex. When he is conscious of his pathology, he transforms his rage and entitlement then directs it at men who beat him in the masculine game in an act of revenge for getting what he wants. He is a man who prefers dead people so he can play with them like puppets instead of appreciating the living that surround and already love him. Even though it is part of his disability, I do resent him in a similar way that I resent the US version of Being Human’s Josh who somehow could ruin lives yet make himself the victim with no admission of autonomy. By the end, even Norman knew that he was a killer, and instead of trying to do better, stubbornly refuses to live in any world other than his own.
I was really surprised by the way that I reacted to some Bates Motel characters during the second viewing. What is wrong with Emma? What was so broken about her life in the almost two decades before the Bates arrive in her hometown that she is immediately drawn to their dysfunction and wants in? Also her storyline is messed up if you really think about it: high school girls and grown ass men should not be a happy ending, but fine. She has no real life outside of them other than her illness, and she has no girl or women friends. Shout out to Regina who did her best not to get drawn into the drama and keeping her job and soul intact. You’re the real MVP!
I found Sheriff Alex Romero so hot the second time around that I think that I need a morality chaperone. Yes, he engages in criminal conduct, including physical violence and murder, but when he says that he is going to take care of something, he does, and generally made everyone’s life better. Being responsible and reliable are sexy. The first time around, I did not want him and Norma together, but I loved the fourth season for some of the same reasons that I began to love Bates Motel in its second season. The series always intimated that if Norma was free of all the men in her family, she could have a full life. Farmiga and Nestor Carbonell, who plays Romero, plausibly took their characters on a journey of damaged people who fought and briefly formed a place of honesty and generosity amidst ugliness that turned into love, happiness and joy. Romero’s unspoken trauma, perhaps as a foil to Norman as a man who experienced unspoken trauma as the son of a mother who was also prey to criminal men, but instead of perpetuating that abuse, acts as a rescuer. I did not find him as hot in the final season for obvious reasons, but Maggie did not let that stop her. Go ahead and shoot your shot, Maggie. Life did not quite beat you down, did it, sis?
Parts of the final season of Bates Motel could almost be comedic if the tone was not so unrelentingly damaged. My unexpected, unofficial favorite supporting character may be Chick Hogan, who in contrast to Norman, wears his weirdness on his sleeve and consciously embraces gender play in counterintuitive ways. He wears decorative scarves and old lady like glasses while being a rather large, gruff, hairy man. I did not feel as if the series quite knew what to do with him except to stir things up, but Ryan Hurst made it work.
Bates Motel definitely engaged in a little stunt casting in the final season as it began to approach its most familiar Norman story. I do not want to ruin it for you, but while she is gorgeous, she is not a good actor though she injected some humor in the proceedings with a twist. Also a black woman with straight hair would not act similarly in that situation-shower with no shower cap or walk around in the rain. No black woman would stay at that motel. No one told me that Yo Yo from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. played a lawyer!
I need a sidequel about what happened to Dr. Edwards even if it is just one hour or less. Black Lives Matter! Dylan’s nickname could be white privilege considering his career trajectory. Where is Christine’s local news podcast about the Bates?
I really enjoyed Bates Motel, and I wish that the series got the same psychological analysis treatment as Dexter because I would love an analysis of all the characters in the show, especially Norma. People don’t just casually catch bodies, and everyone was a hot mess.
