When Halloween: 25 Years of Terror was released, DVD sites (like DavisDVD, RIP) clarified that it was just a documentary, movie not included. It was unusual then, but it turned out to be the first in a line of film retrospectives, passionately produced by the fans, for the fans. The small (but daunting) library of these productions has since grown to include the gargantuan, 4-hour Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy, an independent release, and Beware the Moon: Remembering An American Werewolf in London, Looking Back at the Future, and The Shark is Still Working, all of which were eventually picked up by the studios and put on DVDs and Blu-rays. Most were met with critical acclaim, but at least one or two misfires (namely, the disappointingly glossy His Name Was Jason: 30 Years of Friday the 13th) faltered. Unfortunately, The Psycho Legacy, good intentions and all, is more the latter than the former.

Like those other documentaries, The Psycho Legacy is the brainchild of mega-fan Robert Galluzzo. Galluzzo pops up in the extras, and his enthusiasm is palpable, but the documentary is lacking in focus. A voice-over introduction suggests that the feature will delve not just into the making of the Hitchcock classic and its three sequels, but also into the impact of Psycho on the horror genre and pop culture as a whole, but Galluzzo really doesn't get much farther than standard making-of fare. If you're a fan of Psycho II, Psycho III, or Psycho IV: The Beginning, this might still be interesting, but it feels like Galluzzo's big dreams were crushed by a limited reach.

The 87-minute feature spends about 20 minutes on each film, and (probably because so much is known about the film already), the focus on the original seems very cursory, hitting basic notes about series star Anthony Perkins' background and offering a host of talking heads (including modern horror directors like Adam Green and Joe Lynch) chatting about how impactful Psycho was to them. When talk turns to the sequels, the documentary becomes more interesting, because it still seems surprising that a genre classic like Psycho followed in the footsteps of those that came after it. Familiar faces from these entries include Robert Loggia, Jeff Fahey, Olivia Hussey, Henry Thomas, Diana Scarwid, Tom Holland, Mick Garris, and Charles Edward Pogue. Almost everyone reflects on Perkins and the kind of man he was, easily the most fascinating material on the disc.

Of course, therein lies the rub: The Psycho Legacy is focused on Perkins, who passed away in 1992. While there are great snippets of Perkins at a fan convention in the late 1980s, prior to the shooting of The Beginning, the documentary is somewhat hamstrung by the fact that he's not around to offer his own perspective. Without a host of scholars (sorry, Tony Timpone), and lacking the participation of those who have passed on (Alfred Hitchcock, Janet Leigh, Anthony Perkins, Joseph Stefano, Richard Franklin, Robert Bloch), or those who are still here (Pat Hitchcock, Vera Miles, Meg Tilly, or anyone involved in the ill-advised 1998 remake, which, in an unforgivable oversight, is completely ignored, as a disaster or otherwise), Galluzzo is left without enough meat to chew on. I believe that Galluzzo has that passion for the material necessary to make something better, but this isn't it. The Psycho Legacy is a nice piece, but nothing more.

The DVD
The Psycho Legacy comes in a transparent 2-disc case, with attractive (if overly modern and spare) cover art. On the inside, there's another design that may be slightly better than the one on the outside, an insert listing the extras, and two discs designed to look like film reels.

The Video, and Audio
Ugh, decisions. Is The Psycho Legacy presented in 1.33:1 full-frame or non-anamorphic 1.85:1 letterbox? Honestly, it's probably the former, but a good chunk of the footage is presented in widescreen, which is pretty distracting. Beyond that, the image is a touch digital; if you get up close to it, you can see the beginnings of blockiness and moire patterns just being held under the surface, as if the original video image wasn't very large (in terms of its dimensions) and they made it just as big as they could without showing the stretch marks. Of course, given that this is essentially a talking-head documentary shot all over the country, it doesn't really matter. Similarly, Dolby Stereo audio is plain but perfectly serviceable. The lack of subtitles or captions is a bigger complaint.

The Extras
Disc 1
A reel of eight deleted scenes (2:31, 2:06, 0:35, 1:00, 1:45, 1:48, and 1:24, with a Play All option), and nine extended interviews with Hilton Green, Tom Holland, Diana Scarwid, Charles Edward Pogue, Jeff Fahey, Katt Shea, Henry Thomas, Mick Garris, and Olivia Hussey (1:27, 4:13, 8:25, 8:23, 7:05, 7:13, 8:17, 14:34, and 5:54, also with a Play All option) make up the extras on the first disc. Like the feature itself, they're all a touch underwhelming. Garris' 14-minute clip is probably the most engaging (although he tells a somewhat egotastic story regarding Scorsese), while Fahey has little to say. The most confounding, though, is Henry Thomas, who says plenty of interesting things but takes an interminably long time to spit them out.

Trailers for Roger Corman's Cult Classics, "The Middleman", and "Mystery Science Theater 3000": Volume XVII play when you put in the disc.

Disc 2
First up are two convention-based extras: the full home video footage of a charming Anthony Perkins Q&A (41:57), from which the documentary extracts several soundbytes, and digitally illustrated audio snippets from a Psycho Reunion Panel (6:35). The latter is pleasant enough, but fans will want to make the Perkins video their first stop (although they may prefer to listen to it rather than watch it, thanks to the shaky camerawork).

Featurettes follow: "A Tour of the Bates Motel" (2:32) is a self-explanatory, kinda-funny, kinda-outdated clip (the piece was originally a MySpace exclusive!) that is a letdown in that they don't go into the office or cabin one. Come on! "Revisiting Psycho II" (15:27) and "Shooting Psycho II" (19:04) delve deeper into the making of the first sequel, which are probably the closest to DVD special features fans of Psycho II are going to get. The latter is actually an interview with Dean Cundey, who is not interviewed in the main documentary, so that's an added bonus. "A Visit with Psycho Memorabilia Collector Guy Thorpe" (6:48) is a look at one fan's vast collection of memorabilia, including the Mother skeleton from Psycho II -- a real skeleton at its core -- and a hand-made Anthony Perkins statue. "Norman Bates in Print: Robert Bloch, Author of Psycho" (12:27) covers the impact and legacy of the novel the film was based on. Finally, "Psycho on the Web" (3:43) chats with the webmaster of thepsychomovies.com about connecting with fans and then the outreach from the filmmakers themselves (something that is probably meaningful to Galluzzo, given that he himself is a fan who did something similar), while "The Hyaena Gallery Presents Serial-Killer-Inspired Art" (11:58) is a trippy look at paintings, well, inspired by serial killers.

Conclusion
I haven't had a chance to delve into the eight hours of material on Never Sleep Again, but the Halloween doc 25 Years of Terror represented a high watermark of what I wanted as a fan: candid interviews from a wide range of people all infected by the enthusiasm of the filmmakers. The Psycho Legacy is pleasant, but hampered by its limitations: those of Galluzzo as a first-time documentarian, and of the people and material he could assemble for his piece. Galluzzo's goals are muddy, skimming over the topic the title promises -- he ignores Van Sant's remake, which seems like the perfect example of Hollywood stumbling in the shadow of Psycho's enduring influence. There are things to like, about both the feature and the extras, but I can only recommend a rental -- spend your money on the new Blu-ray of Psycho instead.