Quoth the raven, `Nevermore!' Not as `Poe-etic' maybe but just as grim and fateful in its intent was 1963's hotly anticipated `The Birds,' loosely based on the1952 Daphne Du Maurier Gothic-styled novella (originally set on a post-WWII English coast). Alfred Hitchcock had faithful fans scurrying to the theater houses in droves for his first feature in three years following his macabre masterpiece `Psycho.' In between, Hitch launched his celebrated TV anthology series, winning a whole new generation of admirers.
By altering the image of our fair, feathered friends from symbols of peace, freedom and paradise into terrifying tools of terror, Hitch once again assaulted our eyes and ears in a fresh, cleverly laid out manner. Flocks of birds of varying species descend upon a small California coastal town and attack without provocation, turning into Armageddon-like messengers of doom and annihilation. It was an ingenious comeback idea and Hitch did not disappoint. I can't recall an earlier movie that so rerouted a creature as sweet and innocent as a sparrow.
Since `Psycho' put the `H' in (modern) Horror, what could we expect from `The Birds' on its initial release? Would this heroine too meet an early, similar fate ála Janet Leigh? Would she be beaked to death before the end of the first reel? What would the gore factor be now that `Psycho' had opened Hollywood's bloody doors? Unmercifully playful as always and a master of pre-show suspense, Hitch released his birds with tremendous fanfare and, of course, made quite an impact. The movie became the prototype for a stream of `nature's revenge' movies involving unlikely human predators ants, frogs, rabbits, and the like.
The characters in `Psycho' and `The Birds' are similar in their presentation. They are chilly, not easily embraced, hardly flesh-and-blood characters. They appear to be mere instruments to present, not distract from, the ultimate horrific elements, and yet they becoming more fascinating with each repeated viewing.
Over the years Hitch had a penchant for taking beautiful, sometimes limited, well-coiffed blonde actresses and turning them into exquisite mysteries. Kim Novak of `Vertigo' comes foremost to mind. Here, Tippi Hedren provides one of the most vexing, deceptively intriguing characters yet. A coy, superficial, self-indulgent socialite whose reckless, news-making escapades has been front-page tabloid material, Melanie Daniels, one day at a pet shop, happens to meet and fix upon Mitch Brenner, an assertive, strapping, hirsutely handsome nice guy' attorney (Rod Taylor), totally out of her league, yet a down-home charmer just the same. A casual but obvious flirtation filters out between the two. The capricious lady proceeds to drive all the way to the isolated little town of Bodega Bay to sneak a pair of lovebirds, into Mitch's mother's home for his much, much younger sister's (Veronica Cartwright, by at least 20 years!) birthday. Hedren is a cool but captivating young heroine who gets to thaw out a little as the film progresses. The other roles are handled just as professionally.
Rod Taylor (`The Time Machine') is a definitive man's man and an ingratiating ladies' man to boot. Doling out steadfast, unflinching heroes most his career, he has that fine reputation as a protector extraordinaire, and though he remained in the second ranks for the long duration, his wry charm, stocky masculinity and sexy banter has always been first rate with me. His Mitch Brenner may still be caught up in his mother's apron strings a bit, but on him it looks honorable, not emasculating.
The always wonderful Jessica Tandy returned to the cinematic fold after a decade of stage and TV work as Mrs. Brenner. A wan, high-strung, overly possessive widow incapacitated over the years by fear and anxiety, her desperate attachment to her son was sure to discourage any female competitor. Tandy's performance bears close attention. She draws out a subtle flurry of emotions in what at first might appear to be a one-note performance, drawing sympathy in spite of her limitations.
Lovely Suzanne Pleshette, in a rare, dressed-down support role, gives one of the more curious performances of the film. As the insular, cynical school teacher Annie Hayworth, she inspires genuine empathy as a young woman mysteriously bitter and broken in spirit for such a young age. Once in love with Mitch until Mrs. Brenner's interference, she strangely hangs around as a friend, yearning maybe for a reconciliation. Despite her obvious beauty and intelligence, she has consigned herself to living a small-town life of boredom, broken dreams, and ultimate loneliness. Ironically, it is she, the self-appointed spinster, who makes the ultimate mother's sacrifice protecting her `children' at all costs.
A number of familiar faces, if not names, flutter about as well: Ethel Griffies as an ornithological expert, Lonny Chapman as a restaurant operator, comedian Doodles Weaver (uncle of Sigourney) as a boatman, Ruth McDevitt, flighty as always, as a pet shop owner, Richard (`The Dick Van Dyke Show') Deacon as Mitch's dour city neighbor, and, with a keen eye, little Morgan Brittany can be glimpsed as one of the terrified schoolgirls. Of course, there is a bit of fun to be had trying to spot Hitch himself, whose trademark cameo appearance comes early in the film.
As in all of Hitch's films, the successful buildup of suspense is done in a myriad of ways. Nobody works a camera like the master. Slightly distorted angles accentuate the character's imbalance and gathering paranoia. Even something as unvarnished as Hedren's little boat trek across the lake offers a moving camera that taunts with eery tension. The absence of a screechy Bernard Herrman score, using this time only the intermittent chirping and cawing of his foul fowl, enhances the feelings of isolation and vulnerability. Classic terror' scenes here include Hedren's school bench sequence in which clusters of crows furtively take over a school playground; Tandy's slow discovery of a neighbor's grisly attack; and Hedren's claustrophobic telephone booth assault -- all indelible visions long after the finale.
Metaphorically speaking , the outcome is purposely left `up in the air' which, I suppose, is relatively germane to the world-threatening conflicts of today. Hitch's film projects may be designed for escape but he has a knack for making them seem awfully real. First shower-taking, now bird-watching. He has a devilish habit of taking the fun out of life's little pleasures, doesn't he?.
By altering the image of our fair, feathered friends from symbols of peace, freedom and paradise into terrifying tools of terror, Hitch once again assaulted our eyes and ears in a fresh, cleverly laid out manner. Flocks of birds of varying species descend upon a small California coastal town and attack without provocation, turning into Armageddon-like messengers of doom and annihilation. It was an ingenious comeback idea and Hitch did not disappoint. I can't recall an earlier movie that so rerouted a creature as sweet and innocent as a sparrow.
Since `Psycho' put the `H' in (modern) Horror, what could we expect from `The Birds' on its initial release? Would this heroine too meet an early, similar fate ála Janet Leigh? Would she be beaked to death before the end of the first reel? What would the gore factor be now that `Psycho' had opened Hollywood's bloody doors? Unmercifully playful as always and a master of pre-show suspense, Hitch released his birds with tremendous fanfare and, of course, made quite an impact. The movie became the prototype for a stream of `nature's revenge' movies involving unlikely human predators ants, frogs, rabbits, and the like.
The characters in `Psycho' and `The Birds' are similar in their presentation. They are chilly, not easily embraced, hardly flesh-and-blood characters. They appear to be mere instruments to present, not distract from, the ultimate horrific elements, and yet they becoming more fascinating with each repeated viewing.
Over the years Hitch had a penchant for taking beautiful, sometimes limited, well-coiffed blonde actresses and turning them into exquisite mysteries. Kim Novak of `Vertigo' comes foremost to mind. Here, Tippi Hedren provides one of the most vexing, deceptively intriguing characters yet. A coy, superficial, self-indulgent socialite whose reckless, news-making escapades has been front-page tabloid material, Melanie Daniels, one day at a pet shop, happens to meet and fix upon Mitch Brenner, an assertive, strapping, hirsutely handsome nice guy' attorney (Rod Taylor), totally out of her league, yet a down-home charmer just the same. A casual but obvious flirtation filters out between the two. The capricious lady proceeds to drive all the way to the isolated little town of Bodega Bay to sneak a pair of lovebirds, into Mitch's mother's home for his much, much younger sister's (Veronica Cartwright, by at least 20 years!) birthday. Hedren is a cool but captivating young heroine who gets to thaw out a little as the film progresses. The other roles are handled just as professionally.
Rod Taylor (`The Time Machine') is a definitive man's man and an ingratiating ladies' man to boot. Doling out steadfast, unflinching heroes most his career, he has that fine reputation as a protector extraordinaire, and though he remained in the second ranks for the long duration, his wry charm, stocky masculinity and sexy banter has always been first rate with me. His Mitch Brenner may still be caught up in his mother's apron strings a bit, but on him it looks honorable, not emasculating.
The always wonderful Jessica Tandy returned to the cinematic fold after a decade of stage and TV work as Mrs. Brenner. A wan, high-strung, overly possessive widow incapacitated over the years by fear and anxiety, her desperate attachment to her son was sure to discourage any female competitor. Tandy's performance bears close attention. She draws out a subtle flurry of emotions in what at first might appear to be a one-note performance, drawing sympathy in spite of her limitations.
Lovely Suzanne Pleshette, in a rare, dressed-down support role, gives one of the more curious performances of the film. As the insular, cynical school teacher Annie Hayworth, she inspires genuine empathy as a young woman mysteriously bitter and broken in spirit for such a young age. Once in love with Mitch until Mrs. Brenner's interference, she strangely hangs around as a friend, yearning maybe for a reconciliation. Despite her obvious beauty and intelligence, she has consigned herself to living a small-town life of boredom, broken dreams, and ultimate loneliness. Ironically, it is she, the self-appointed spinster, who makes the ultimate mother's sacrifice protecting her `children' at all costs.
A number of familiar faces, if not names, flutter about as well: Ethel Griffies as an ornithological expert, Lonny Chapman as a restaurant operator, comedian Doodles Weaver (uncle of Sigourney) as a boatman, Ruth McDevitt, flighty as always, as a pet shop owner, Richard (`The Dick Van Dyke Show') Deacon as Mitch's dour city neighbor, and, with a keen eye, little Morgan Brittany can be glimpsed as one of the terrified schoolgirls. Of course, there is a bit of fun to be had trying to spot Hitch himself, whose trademark cameo appearance comes early in the film.
As in all of Hitch's films, the successful buildup of suspense is done in a myriad of ways. Nobody works a camera like the master. Slightly distorted angles accentuate the character's imbalance and gathering paranoia. Even something as unvarnished as Hedren's little boat trek across the lake offers a moving camera that taunts with eery tension. The absence of a screechy Bernard Herrman score, using this time only the intermittent chirping and cawing of his foul fowl, enhances the feelings of isolation and vulnerability. Classic terror' scenes here include Hedren's school bench sequence in which clusters of crows furtively take over a school playground; Tandy's slow discovery of a neighbor's grisly attack; and Hedren's claustrophobic telephone booth assault -- all indelible visions long after the finale.
Metaphorically speaking , the outcome is purposely left `up in the air' which, I suppose, is relatively germane to the world-threatening conflicts of today. Hitch's film projects may be designed for escape but he has a knack for making them seem awfully real. First shower-taking, now bird-watching. He has a devilish habit of taking the fun out of life's little pleasures, doesn't he?.