Image by Andrew Martin from Pixabay If you ask any cinephile or movie lover walking down the street which director helped to define the horror genre, there are a handful of names they might say. On the one hand, you have modern magicians of horror like Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar) and Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Lighthouse). In addition, you could call back to the big names of the “New Hollywood” generation like George A. Romero (Night of the Living Dead), John Carpenter (Halloween, The Thing), and Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream). But if you want to go back to the filmmaker who arguably laid the foundation for the modern horror-thriller-suspense mega-genre, there is only one name who most film fans would agree on: Alfred Hitchcock.
An Englishman and Essex native, Hitchcock came from somewhat humble beginnings as the son of a greengrocer but an uncle of means with a five-bedroom Victorian mansion complete with a staff of servants. He entered the European film industry at the tail end of World War I, and within ten years cemented himself as a successful avant-garde filmmaker with films like Blackmail and The Lady Vanishes. But it was not until the mid-20th century (both during and after World War II) that Hitchcock emerged as one of the greatest filmmakers ever with instant classics like Shadow of a Doubt, Notorious, and Rear Window. By the time films like Vertigo were released, Hitchcock’s name became synonymous with a signature artistic and cinematic style defined by using framing and editing to create an optimal level of fear and suspense while also immersing the audience in the events onscreen. To be perfectly honest, I’m not the biggest Hitchcock fan (I also haven’t seen all of his films). But, there are several that I either enjoy for what they are or genuinely like them in spite of their age. But there is one that, with two viewings, greatly bothers me. Not because it’s the worst film ever made, but because it’s often revered as one of the best horror-thriller films of all time (and certainly one of the best of Hitchcock’s career) when (in my humble opinion) it is anything but. Simply put, I have a problem with Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. Let me explain why. The Premise Released in March of 1963 to mixed critical reception but box-office success, The Birds tells the burgeoning romance of San Francisco socialite Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren) and lawyer Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor). Yet the romance is caught in the midst of the slow-burn escalation of wild birds attacking the townsfolk of Bodega Bay—the seaside town where Mitch lives with his overbearing mother Lydia (Jessica Tandy) and pre-teen sister Cathy (Veronica Cartwright). Intertwined throughout the narrative, however, is the complications to Melanie and Mitch’s stirring feelings for each other by the presence of local schoolteacher Annie Hayworth (Suzanne Pleshette) who also happens to be Mitch’s ex-lover. While the first half of the film largely focuses on the “complex” relationship between Melanie and Mitch with only minor foreshadowing of the emerging avian threat, the second hour becomes nearly fully consumed by a quasi-apocalyptic onslaught of bloodthirsty birds attacking the people of Bodega Bay. By the third act, the initially serene small California town has turned into a natura-disaster site with dead birds and dead people scattered all over and the people flared up in a frightened panic due to the seemingly biblical nature of what their home has succumbed to. The Problems In reading about the thought process behind the making of The Birds, I discovered that Hitchcock himself described the symbolism of the eponymous bloodthirsty avians in the movie as serving as punishment for humanity who take nature for granted. If that’s true, then it only cements my strong dislike for this movie. Especially when compared to the standouts within Hitchcock’s own filmography. In other words, Hitchcock does an expert job exploring strong ideas in many of his movies: the complexities of moral duality (Strangers on a Train), psychological obsession (Vertigo), deception & moral relativism (North by Northwest), and psychoanalysis (Psycho). Yet, in all those other films that I listed, he also spins a compelling narrative that excels by being just as superficially entertaining as it is intellectually stimulating. That is simply not the case with The Birds. Whether I’m watching drab melodrama involving the “blossoming” romance between its two leads or anachronistic special effects to depict inexplicable violence by nature against humanity, I as a viewer am never truly scared, excited, or thrilled by what’s happening and thus never truly invested in the film’s narrative. What also holds The Birds back, especially when stacked up against much of the rest of Hitchcock’s career as a filmmaker, is how little it feels like a Hitchcock movie. The recognizable camera work of his other thrillers is pretty much absent here, resulting in any potential for a heightened level of suspense being lost. Without that, Hitchcock essentially had to rely on (for the time) advanced special effects done by Disney animator Ub Iwerks (who, deservedly, was nominated for an Oscar for Best Special Effects). Unfortunately, these effects don’t really hold up anymore. Consequently, The Birds ends up feeling like the least “Hitchcockian” of any of his movies that I’ve seen due to a noticeable and detracting lack of distinctive visual style. While I blame much of the lack of quality in The Birds on Hitchcock (he was the director after all), some responsibility must be put on the writing and acting. Regarding the former, screenwriter Evan Hunter—who is better known for his police procedural novels—was given the task to write Hitchcock a more complicated plot than the Daphne du Maurier short story upon which the movie is based. Rather than sticking with the straightforward thrills of du Maurier’s allegorical narrative about the anxieties of war-torn Britain, Hunter crafts a bunch of new and wholly unlikeable characters entangled in toxic relationships that offer no reason for the audience to care about them. And perhaps that was the point: to make the human characters of the film so wholly unsympathetic that the viewer starts turning in favor of the birds’ point of view. But, if that’s true, then both Hunter’s writing and Hitchcock’s directing do this thematic approach no favors by never showing us tangible explanations for why or how humanity takes advantage of the natural world around them (aside from the socially acceptable elements of civilization, like driving cars and building roads). In a case like this, a filmmaker may be able to rely on a charismatic cast to carry the lackluster plot. But that’s also lacking in The Birds. Tippi Hedren’s film debut as the crass and nonchalant Melanie lacks the grace to pull off a morally complex anti-heroine (which I don’t entirely blame her for considering this was her feature film debut in a credited role). Conversely, Roy Taylor’s portrayal of the overly attached mama’s boy Mitch does not possess nearly enough grit nor grime to pull off the kind of rough-and-lean leading man of the era. Instead, he comes off as a weak-willed, immature man half-stuck in the past due to how his feelings for Melanie conflict with the daily reminder of his former fling with Suzanne Pleshette’s Annie (who, by the way, might be the most sympathetic adult character in the film since she gives her life to protect Mitch’s younger sister). By the end of that first hour, though, The Birds has given me no reason to care about any of the human relationship explored up to that point. The result? A pretty unbalanced two-hour runtime wherein Hitchcock tries to make the audience care by stuffing the second half of the film with one bird-attack scene after the other. While technically impressive to a point, this surface-level reliance on hammy action just to progress the narrative to its anti-climactic end gets old real fast. So, if the romance doesn’t work and the horror doesn’t work, what does work about The Birds? The Verdict In my humble opinion, pretty much nothing. While admittedly not a Hitchcock expert by any means, I’ve seen enough of his bona-fide classic flicks to be convinced that The Birds represents the start of his decline as an artist and storyteller. Maybe you think that I’m being too harsh on this movie, but I don’t think so. Having seen it twice, I feel reassured in my opinion that it’s Hitchcock’s worst “classic” by far. You want a “Golden Age” romantic psycho-horror flick? Watch Rebecca. You want a chilling 1950s thriller? Watch Strangers on a Train. What about the essential precursor to the modern spy movie? Watch North by Northwest. And if you’re in the mood for an old-school slasher film that still holds up today, you cannot go wrong with Psycho. Just don’t watch The Birds. It’s a pathetic excuse for a romance and a horror-thriller that should keep it a sizeable distance from being ranked alongside the other finest pieces of cinema of the last one hundred years. Need I say more? 😊 What is your take on Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds? What is your favorite (or least favorite) Hitchcock movie? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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