THE BIRDS 1963
Like most people my age, the first time I saw The Birds was when it had its broadcast television premiere on NBC
back in 1968. Then only 10-years-old, I had never seen an Alfred Hitchcock movie before, but he was familiar to me,
if not by reputation, then most certainly by that corpulent profile featured so prominently on his weekly anthology
series, Alfred Hitchcock Presents. I knew he was a film director but my strongest impression was of his being “The
fat Rod Serling,” or “The scary Walt Disney”; a household-name TV host in the vein of Dick Powell and Loretta
Young whom I associated with suspense programs like The Twilight Zone, One Step Beyond, and Thriller.
Tippi Hedren as Melanie Daniels
(always loved how "naturally" she holds that cotton swab to her head)
Rod Taylor as Mitch Brenner
Jessica Tandy as Lydia Brenner
Suzanne Pleshette as Annie Hayworth
Veronica Cartwright as Cathy Brenner
My fondness for what in syndication was called The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (“The Unlocked Window” episode scared
the hell out of me then and is still the one I consider the best of the series) combined with the kid-friendly, “Creature
Features” accessibility of its title, made The Birds must-see television as far as I was concerned. And indeed, in
spite of seeing it on a small black and white set with all those commercial interruptions, my first experience of The
Birds was an appropriately terrifying one. Sure, Tippi Hedren’s lacquered San Francisco socialite inspired, no, make
that invited, giggles, while Rod Taylor’s lantern-jawed “Let the men handle it!” heroics was a horror film cliché
already wearing thin (if I had a dollar for every time a woman is told to go make coffee before, during, and after a
disaster…), but for sheer tension and hands-over-my-eyes thrills, I couldn't have asked for a better introduction to
the cinema world of Alfred Hitchcock.
A class act in every way, The Birds was the first horror film I ever saw that didn't have the feel of the bargain-
basement about it. Beautifully photographed, breathtaking special effects, suspense deftly metered; The Birds is
simply a marvelous example of a thriller that understands how much an audience enjoys being taken on a thrill ride.
Nowhere near as mean-spirited as some of Hitchcock’s other films (his Frenzy is one of the ugliest, most
misanthropic films I've ever seen), I liken the experience of watching The Birds to being a participant in an adult
version of the old “peek-a-boo” game one plays with an infant: I may get scared when the film goes “Boo!”, but I
delight in the jolt and I sit there in gleeful anticipation of the next one, and the next one, and the next one.
And should Hitchcock’s predilection for fake-looking sets and feeble rear-screen projection mar this stylish
enterprise with the cheesy-looking scene or two (I still can’t get over that sequence on the hill overlooking the
children’s birthday party - it looks like a set from a high-school production of Brigadoon); or Evan Hunter’s script
occasionally defy the normal patterns and rhythms of human speech; The Birds ultimately more than makes up for it
in the near-genius technical rendering of the bird attacks and the kind of virtuoso storytelling that’s becoming all-too-
rare in films today.
Throughout its evolution from late-career Hitchcock embarrassment, to affectionately derisible camp classic, straight
on through to its current revisionist acceptance as a masterpiece of suspense and terror, The Birds has never once
ceased being a favorite of mine.
Torch-Carryin' Annie has to listen to the Effortlessly Elegant Melanie make inroads with
The Man That Got Away
I've not devoted much space on this blog to writing about some of the more popular and well-known films that rank
among my favorites (for example: The Godfather, The Wizard of Oz and Citizen Kane). This having to do with a
sense that these titles are somewhat oversaturated subjects of cinema analysis, and a nagging uncertainty that I
have anything new to add to the dialog. On that topic, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds certainly fills the bill (a little
ornithological humor there…heh, heh), what with everybody from François Truffaut to Mattel® to Camille Paglia
weighing in on the film over the years. But after a recent glut of cable TV airings and one particularly laugh-filled
evening watching the movie at home with my partner, I’ve decided that The Birds is a movie too near and dear to my
heart not to be included in this, my internet film diary.
The plot of The Birds is so well-known it doesn't even require summarizing. The fan and casual viewer is just invited
to settle down and enjoy the ride, perhaps indulging in a little "Spot the Hitchcock trademark" as the film unspools. I
think all of them are present: the icy blonde, the suggestive banter, the sinister brunette, the precocious child, the
female in eyeglasses, the glib discussion of murder, the domineering mother, the victimized female.
If that's not to your liking, you can ponder non-pertinent, yet nagging elements like: that scary portrait of Mitch's
father (he doesn't look like a man who "had the knack" of entering into a kid's world). Or maybe the huge
discrepancy in age between Mitch and his sister, Cathy (the wonderful Veronica Cartwright, stealing scenes even
then!). Or why those two little moppets being traumatized at the diner aren't in school. Or, while you're at it, why
Annie hayworth's class is the only one held in that big old schoolhouse. Don't they have teenagers in Bodega Bay?
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
We’ve all seen it. A woman walks by a man- man makes a comment (usually vulgar) about her attractiveness. Said
woman ignores both comment and commenter only to find herself the object of a stream of hurled invectives from
the man, all blatantly contradicting his earlier “compliments.” Standard operational procedure in misogyny: man
places woman on fetishized pedestal only so he can knock her off of it. In many ways The Birds plays out like the
world’s most expensive and elaborate ugly-guy revenge fantasy against beautiful women (a mantle taken up
several decades later by Joe Eszterhas with the craptastic Showgirls). There are times when it feels as if Hitchcock
devised the entire multi-million production for the sole purpose of mussing Tippi Hedren’s meticulously sculpted
Haters Gonna Hate
When it comes to disapproving glares from strangers,
Melanie Daniels doesn't have any fucks to give
Not since an excitable James Stewart ran obsessively roughshod over Kim Novak’s shopping spree in Vertigo can I
recall a movie preoccupying itself so all-consumingly with a woman’s appearance. The first hour or so of The Birds
is a virtual valentine to all things Tippi. Hitchcock records her in loving closeup, ogling long shot, and to the adoring
exclusion of all else that’s going on around her. And when she’s not being subjected to the camera obscura
equivalent of a wolf-whistle, The Birds makes sure it captures every leering, appraising gaze she draws from the
males she crosses paths with.
But of course, the glamorization/objectification of leading ladies is nothing new. What makes The Birds the perverse
and ultimately camp-prone curiosity it is, is the degree of enthusiasm with which the film approaches the task of
dismantling all that it has so meticulously set up. Hedren’s Melanie Daniels is involved in each of the film’s recorded
bird attacks and seriously gets the worst of it in the by-now-classic finale, but the movie doesn't ask that we relate to
her character so much as hope that each successive attack will knock a bit of the starch out of her.
By the end, when the self-assured, independent, and superciliously smug Melanie Daniels from the early scenes
has been reduced to a cowering, needy, child/woman, I have the nagging feeling that the film (Hitchcock) views this
as some kind of triumph. As if Melanie's breakdown has made her more human. While there’s no arguing that
Melanie was a bit of a pill before, was it really necessary to strip her of all of her spirit to make her into a sympathetic
It sounds very ungallant of me to say so, but a great deal of the enjoyment I’ve derived from The Birds over the
years has been at Ms.Hedren’s expense. To be fair, it must be said that it’s difficult to tell whether I'm responding to
the limitations of the actress herself or the made-to-look-ridiculous-on-purpose character of Melanie Daniels.
Venus in Furs
Melanie Daniels' high-style glamour is made to look absurd when contrasted
with the more practical environment of Bodega Bay
I've always been fascinated by Tippi Hedren's hands in this film. Her tapering long fingers and ostentatiously elegant gestures involving a
pencil, cigarette, or telephone cord make for some of the most unintentionally sensuous footage Hitchcock has ever shot.
In either event, it's nice to report that the years have been kind to both Hedren and The Birds. Looking at the film
today, one is made aware of how difficult a role it must have been, and I find myself admiring Hedren's performance
more and more. She is limited, to be sure, but in several scenes (such as Melanie's first encounter with the
suspicious Annie Hayworth) Hedren displays a marvelous subtlety. If you don't believe me, try watching the French
dubbed DVD of The Birds (if you're like me, you already know most of the dialog, anyway). You'd be surprised how
significantly Hedren's performance improves when her thin American voice (her greatest drawback) is replaced by a
sonorous Gallic one.
THE STUFF OF FANTASY
After all these years, the scene of the bird attack at the Tides Cafe is as powerful as the first time I saw it. It is one
brilliant, breathtaking piece of filmmaking! I tell you, no amount of expensive CGI wizardry is ever going to take the
place of simple creativity and knowing how to use the visual medium of film to tell a story. I hate bandying the word
"genius" about, but Hitchcock hit it out of the ballpark with this sequence. For me, it beats the shower scene in
Psycho. (Although this scene never made me need to sleep with the lights on.)
THE STUFF OF DREAMS
If in this post I sound guilty of succumbing to the kind of revisionism that spins vintage cinema straw into nostalgia-
laced gold, it's only because I've been around long enough to have taken note of what I perceive to be
a certain downward trajectory in films. In the independent/foreign-film influenced days of my youth, it was generally
assumed that movies like The Birds were on their way out, and it was fashionable to mock their solid, old-school
(read: Establishment) professionalism.
In this shot from the start of The Birds, the traffic signal clearly says WALK, but to the right of the screen can be seen a strong-armed "extras
wrangler" preventing a clearly befuddled little old lady from crossing the street and spoiling Hitchcock's solo shot of the leggy Ms. Hedren. I
told you I've seen this film a lot.
Jump ahead to present day. We now have an industry run by lawyers and populated with techno-geeks churning out
obscenely expensive comic book movies and CGI video games disguised as films for a subliterate demographic
that bullies the boxoffice through their twitter accounts.
All of a sudden, old-fashioned things like story, character, pacing and maturity seem positively revolutionary. I've
always liked The Birds, but I never considered it a classic. I think that opinion has changed. I don't think there's a
director working today who can pull off what Hitchcock does in this flawed masterpiece, I really don't. It's a movie
both smart and silly that never once falls prey to what is near-standard in horror films today: stupidity. It takes its
time, it gets us to care about its characters, and the power of the shock effects comes from our engagement in the
narrative. The Birds is not Alfred Hitchcock's best film by a long-shot, but its obvious skill, artistry, and simple
entertainment value makes much of what pass for motion pictures today look like chicken feed.
A couple of terrific essays on Hedren and "The Birds" can be found HERE at the site of fellow blogger, Poseidon's
Mike's Movie Projector looks at the renewed interest in "The Birds" HERE
About Ken Anderson