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Imagine Hitchcock trying to sell this idea to the film studios: the lives of a mundane country family are shattered when vicious rooks attack. Why? No particular reason. And what then? They fly away. and then? They come back again and attack. And then go and then . .. It seems like an impossible plot to pull off, but Hitchcock does it, slowly building up the tension which spasmodically swells and subsides. Younger viewers may get irritated with the slow stealth of the opening scenes and may want to thrash the T.V. when the film comes to its beautifully droll conclusion, but form once those birds start attacking, every viewer is riveted. It was fine Hitchcockian innovation that took this very slim, cock-a-mamy story and turned in to a tense thriller. But the greatest innovation is the film score - there isn't any. No director is more closely identified with the music of their films, but in Birds, Hitchcock created a horror that is uniquely quiet. The great man appreciated something that so few others do - the atmospheric potency of silence, and how, in different settings, silences can differ in character. Yet so many who watch the film seem to forget that the music isn't there. That's the film's greatest attribute.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
I don't think anyone was prepared in 1963 for the unexplained horror
Hitchcock unleashed here (hell, I wasn't; and I first saw it 25 years
later). Now, 50 years later, it's still absolutely unique and remains a
stand-alone picture which doesn't cease to amaze me.
The tension Hitchcock slowly builds and the atmosphere of impending doom he creates are mesmerizing. This was probably the first true apocalyptic nightmare ever put on screen; a shocker, and the terror this film inspires is greatly enhanced by the fact that it refuses to give the viewer any answers. Nature just turns on humanity all of a sudden, and although it's just those adorable tiny creatures called "birds" that we see go amok, I was left with the impression that this might just be the start of something bigger, much much worse.
This was Hitchcock, the man who - next to Chaplin and Disney - probably had the biggest impact on the evolution of cinema from the twenties to the early sixties, at the peak of his creativity.
A terrifying work of beauty. My vote: 8 out of 10
Favorite films: http://www.IMDb.com/list/mkjOKvqlSBs/
Lesser-known Masterpieces: http://www.imdb.com/list/ls070242495/
Favorite Low-Budget and B-Movies: http://www.imdb.com/list/ls054808375/
Favorite TV-Shows reviewed: http://www.imdb.com/list/ls075552387/
Despite spending most of his career within the realms of the thriller
genre, Alfred Hitchcock hasn't restricted himself where variation is
concerned. Most of his best work represents a different type of
thriller, and The Birds is no different. It is often said that Psycho
is Hitchcock's first foray into the horror side of the thriller, and it
is indeed; but it's not the complete horror film that The Birds is.
Often cited as an obvious influence for Night of the Living Dead, The
Birds follows Melanie Daniels as she travels to the seaside town of
Bodega Bay with a pair of lovebirds for Mitch Brenner, an eligible
bachelor that she met in a pet shop in San Francisco. However, while
there the birds of the coastal town begin to attack the residents and
so begins a terrifying tale of man's feathered friends waging a war
It could be said that the plot of The Birds is ridiculous, and it is. The idea of birds, a type of animal that isn't aggressive, attacking humans despite living with us for millions of years is preposterous and is never likely to happen. However; it is here where the film's horror potency lies. Birds live with us in harmony; we're so used to them that for the most part we don't even realise that they're there, and the idea of something that we don't notice suddenly becoming malicious is truly terrifying. Especially when that something is unstoppable, as the birds are portrayed as being in this film. The fact that the birds' motive is never really explained only serves in making it more terrifying, as it would appear that somewhere along the line they've just decided to attack. Of course, the film could be interpreted as having Melanie's arrival, or the presence of the lovebirds as the cause for it all; but we don't really know. This bounds the film in reality as if there was a reason given, it might be improbable; but there's no true reason given (although there are several theories), so it can't be improbable!
The first forty minutes of the film feature hardly any - if any - horror at all. Hitchcock spends this part of the movie developing the characters and installing their situation in the viewers' minds, so that when the horror does finally come along, it has a definite potency that it would not have had otherwise. In fact, at first the birds themselves come across as a co-star in their own movie as there are brief references towards them, but they never get their full dues. However, once the horror does start, it comes thick and fast. Hitchcock, the master craftsman as always, uses his famous montage effects and never really shows you anything; but because you're being bombarded with so many different shots, you'd never realise it. Many people have tried to copy this technique, but most have failed. Hitchcock, however, has it down to an art and this is maybe the film that shows off that talent the best. There are numerous moments of suspense as well, many of which are truly nail biting. We see the birds amassing and ready to strike - but they don't. And this is much more frightening than showing an attack from the off. Hitchcock knows this. The final thirty minutes of The Birds is perhaps the most thrilling of his entire oeuvre. First, Hitchcock gives us an intriguing situation where numerous inhabitants of the town give their views on the events, and also explains the birds' situation with humans, even giving the audience an angle of expertise from an ornithologist's point of view. He then follows it up with a truly breathtaking sequence of horror that hasn't been matched since for relentless shock value.
Hitchcock has made many great films, and this certainly stands up as one of them. Here, Hitchcock gives a lesson in film directing and creates a truly macabre piece of work in the process. I dread to think what the state of cinema would have been if Hitchcock had never picked up a camera, but luckily for us; he most certainly did.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Some films are so well made that watching them unfold sequence by
sequence creates the feeling of surrender to a higher force. Hitchcock,
no stranger to spellbinding his audience, was known for bringing a
sense of intense masochism into the viewer's eyes. In THE MAN WHO KNEW
TOO MUCH the Albert Hall sequence is a perfect crescendo of images and
music in which Jo McKenna sees a man who is the key to her son's safety
prepare to commit a crime with deadly slowness. In PSYCHO, Marion Crane
takes a fatal shower and gets a vicious visitor. In VERTIGO, Scotty and
Judy begin a dizzying affair which itself is as obsessive as narcotic
and culminates high above the bell tower, filled with revelations upon
THE BIRDS is by far one of Hitchcock's most deadly incursions into cinematic masochism. In itself, it's a masterpiece of misdirection. Hitchcock has no wrong man in his story, no chase sequences (or at least, none that involve Cary Grant and some Bad Guys), and no double-crosses. All he presents here is Tippi Hedren's arrival to the small town of Bodega Bay, a series of Meet Cutes between her and Rod Taylor, what could pass as romantic suspense, and the most impressive sweeping of the rug right out from under the audience's feet at precisely halfway through the movie when the plot makes a left turn into uncharted territory. Who else can lay claim to that feat? Hitchcock, in revealing the black petals of his deadly flower revealing themselves, opening up, and swallowing the viewer whole at this precise mark is one of the un-topped achievements in cinema history.
And so begins a sequence of events that proceed at the vertiginous crescendo of domino's falling. We've seen the birds amass and attack in increasing ferocity. We've seen the damage they've done to the little city. Hitchcock, of course, has one better on the viewers during the film's overpowering climax: making their presence oppressive and omniscient through the use of sound imitating their shrieks until it becomes deafening and everyone is twisting and turning in revulsion among the corners of the house in reaction not only to their fury but to what they might imagine as their horrible deaths. Hitchcock never once gives an emotional release, and then he outdoes himself in using the most hackneyed excuse for a plot device: Melanie ascending the stairs because she heard a rustling noise, the quintessential "Don't go there," which is the oldest trick in the book. Because we know what lies on the other side of the door....
The stroboscopic effect of the last attack is petrifying as it is unflinching. Melanie, waving the flashlight in a weak signal for help, being slammed against the door, as Mitch tries to get inside but finds he cannot. As Melanie begins slumping and surrenders to the birds' attack, she has an odd mixture of horror and pleasure. We, of course, can't do anything but watch and watch and watch.
Hitchcock had always been attracted to the theme of rape. Because his (professional) relationship with Tippi Hedren was brittle at best, this sequence, somehow out of place and character, seems more in tune with his love-hate attitude towards blonde women and his need for their total submission. Beginning with the emotional rape Jo McKenna suffers with the disappearance of her son, the psychological stripping of Madeleine's identity in VERTIGO, Marion's violent death at the Bates Motel in PSYCHO in and culminating in the barbaric rape sequence of FRENZY, he possessed a desire to destroy that which he loved or desired the most.
I notice how he makes Rod Taylor's character suddenly incapable of saving Melanie right at the end (which heightens the viewers agony -- they want, they need her to survive the birds' attack). It's almost as if he, the Director as Ringmaster, were pushing the Heroine right to the edge of the abyss for one last moment before bringing her back to the (relative) safety of family. Even then, with the vague ending, Hitchcock seems to sort of wink at the audience and tell them that it's still not over -- and this is the sort of thing only a sadistic imp of a personality would do. THE BIRDS is his obsessions at its most explicit (as they were implicit in VERTIGO) and is the kind of cinematic experience that can always be rediscovered even when its tricks become evident. It's been considered Hitchcock's last masterpiece before returning to almost full form for FRENZY, and in many ways, it is the setup for the more graphic, cruel violence of the latter film.
Seems silly to give a 10 to "The Birds" what can I give to "Notorius" then? Or "Rear Window"? A 20? It doesn't matter, a 10 shouldn't mean the best but one of the best. Best as in degrees of enjoyment, best as in time of enjoyment, 10 for the kind of enjoyment. "The Birds" is a ten for all of the above. Hitchcock's world varied consistently, it depended very much on his travelling companions. Writers first and foremost then composers. There is no music in "The Birds" so most of my questions are directed to the eclectic Evan Hunter who dissected Daphne de Maurier's original story and transformed it into something that not even Hitchcock had attempted before. A lyrically surreal horror soap opera kind of thing. It visits many of Hitchcock's obsession's of course, an icy blond and a castrating mother. Tippi Hedren follows a long line of Hitchcock blonds, from Madeline Carroll and Ingrid Bergman to Grace Kelly, Kim Novak, Janet Leigh, Eva Marie Saint and Doris Day as Jessica Tandy follows Madame Constantin, Jesse Royce Landis and Louise Latham not to mention Mrs. Bates. Evan Hunter was behind films like Richard Brooks's "Blackboard Jungle" and a semi forgotten gem Frank Perry's "Last Summer" As well as having Akira Kurosawa based his film noir "The Ransom" on one of his novels. Here, he follows Hitchcock's needs with religious reverence and at the same time comes out with something quite unique. I love the light weightiness of the heaviness. I've always loved the daringness of the pacing. The car trip to to Bodega Bay or the long shots of Jessica Tandy's truck driving away in horror from the farm. This movie is also a reminder to the filmmakers, depending in special effects, that effects tend to age a movie far too fast. The effects should be at the service of the characters and not the other way round. Rod Taylor, a charming, versatile matinée idol with a brain and the scrumptious Suzanne Pleshette ad to the many pleasures this 10 of a film will keep in store for generations to come.
This is one of Hitchcock's most well-known movies. Along with Psycho,
it's the movie that most people identify with him. Many pages have been
written about it and surely there will be more. I know that the superb
technical aspects of the movie have been discussed a lot, so I'll try
to focus on something I noticed yesterday when I watched it.
It's scarier when there are no birds on screen. The tension, the silence, the uncertainty, the mystery. That's what suspense is about.
I was amazed of how carefully Hitchcock builds the suspense in this movie. You watch the birds standing there, and they do not move, they are just waiting. Even when you think they are dumb something tells you they are thinking. They are analyzing your moves.
This was possible with the aid of a top-notch screenplay, and great performances of the actors. This was probably the most difficult film for Hitchcock, specially for the technical aspects that were involved, but when you watch it, it really was worth the pain.
The main plot is well-known: Melanie Daniels(Tippi Hedren),a young girl goes to Bodega Bay looking for Mitch Brenner(Rod Taylor),a handsome man she met in San Francisco, when suddenly, the birds start attacking humans by no reason. Pretty straight forward, and by this date very outdated, but Hitchcock adds his magic and the script spices this with the very complex relationships between the characters.
The complex relationship between Mitch and his mother Lydia(played by Jessica Tandy), and the conflict that she has with Melanie is very interesting and brings back memories from Psycho. Also, Melanie's relationship with her own mother and the bond that she creates with Lydia and Mitch's 11 years old sister Cathy(Veronica Cartwright) is fascinating.
The scene when the four of them are trapped inside the house with the birds waiting outside is classic; not only is, as I wrote above, a perfect example of the use of suspense, it is an awesome study of the characters and how their relation grows. I think that this particular movie was main inspiration for George A. Romero's claustrophobic climax in his landmark film "Night of the Living Dead"(1968).
The technical aspects may be the focus of many studies, but the characters deserve to be praised, even the support cast with a few lines develop a personality of their own. The restaurant scene is Hitchcock at his best with witty dialogs that are both humorous and creepy. Very good ensemble.
Overall, this is an awesome movie, many reviewers have said it, I know. But I wanted to point that beyond the technical advances this experimental movie features, it is a perfect example of why Alfred Hitchcock is considered, "The Master of Suspense".
One of Hitchcock's most enigmatic and fascinating films, a true puzzle
without an answer. Hitchcock chucks away all but the barest conceit of
DuMaurier's story, and instead constructs an elegant little comedy of
manners so dry it'll sting your lips. Tippi Hedren's spoiled rich girl
makes a trip to a west-coast fishing town to play a joke on a smartass
lawyer who still lives with his mum, and things get complicated. In the
movie's first half, the director layers on the sexual tensions and the
bitchy wit until you're at the screaming point--and then unleashes a
cataclysmic natural horror so unspeakable it could be something out of
All technical elements are superb. Hitchcock, so well known for his use of music, shows here how terrifying silence can be, and 'The Birds' remains an intensely quiet picture, even punctuated, as it is, by sudden noisy violence. The set pieces, like the fireplace scene, the playground scene, and the visit with Dan Fawcett, are studies in perfection. The cast is smooth down to the tiniest roles, with the proto-Altman ensemble scene in the diner being one of the most memorable segments in a film chock-full of them.
And it is literally impossible to imagine better-cast actors in the leads. Hedren is perfect as Melanie Daniels, the party girl who, while not nearly as clever as she thinks she is, may just be telling the truth when she says she's looking for something more meaningful in her life. Rod Taylor is charming and somewhat inscrutable as the local-boy-made-good who thinks he knows what he wants. Suzanne Pleschette is smoldering as the cynical (and perhaps sexually ambiguous) schoolteacher who takes Melanie in.
And perhaps most important, Jessica Tandy is a searing, twitchily hypnotic presence as Lydia Brenner, surely one of greatest supporting characters in the Hitchcock pantheon.
As the movie runs on, the director gleefully ignores one loose end after another, leaving the viewer with an epic catalogue of unanswered questions at the climax (the most important of which is articulated by the diner's birdwatching crone: Why?). And if you're the kind of moviegoer who likes having everything neatly explained, you'd best try something else. But if you like ambiguity (and a healthy dose of existential nightmarishness), it doesn't get any better than this. 10 out of 10.
An old friend, the late State Senator Ted Gill, of Holyoke, Colorado, once told me that The Birds was the last movie he ever saw. He gave up movies after seeing this flick...they were just getting too weird and disturbing for an old rancher like him. It's still pretty terrifying, even if you've seen it again and again. You know what bad, brutal scenes are coming and don't want to see the carnage again, but can't help yourself. It's ominous as the crows flock tighter and tighter, always more and more, on the schoolyard Monkey-Bars and it's also exciting to see the school kids chased down by the crows a few minutes later. Subplots like the pitiful neurosis of Lydia Brenner, Mitch & Annie's lost-love-affair, Mitch's indifference to the needs of others, and the poor-little-rich-girl Melanie, who still just wants her mommie, are all well-written and acted. Loved best by me is Hitchcock's humorous characters who are CHARACTERS! The old drunk at the bar quoting Holy Scripture, the nosy neighbor done wonderfully by Richard Deacon, the dowdily-dressed old intellectual in the cafe buying her cigarettes and evidently a scientific expert for any field. Sir Alfred's macabre touches of comedy are unmatched, even in today's thrillers. I'm repulsed and attracted by such scenes as the one in the farmhouse, where Jessica Tandy discovers an old friend pecked to death, with his eye sockets bloody and empty. I find myself still searching for gory details on the farmer's body because Hitch didn't let the camera dwell on the horrible face too long. But he DID give us two rapid jump-cuts with closer and closer close-ups, and we end up seeing just as much detail as Jessica just did - enough to know that "We gotta git outta there!" Overall, a fine time. 119 minutes of revolting fun!
Another film to prove that Hitchcock really was one of the most gifted film
makers ever. His films are more 'fresh' today than any of current Hollywood
The screeching bird soundtrack in itself was chilling.
The absence of backgound music added a sense of calm before the storm which made the bird attack scenes all the more intense.
The film builds up slowly and that serves to build up the tension and edginess.
The most chilling scene was definitely when Melanie (Tippi Hedren) was waiting outside the school while the singing was going on in the school. At each loop of the song, a few more crows would perch on the climbing frame. The site of them was truly grotesque. This scene is a lesson to all the "subtle as a sledge hammer" so called 'thrillers' that are churned out today.
By the end of the film, there is no conclusion, no neat result. It is somewhat uncomfortable watching a film like this and not seeing a conclusion. How will it end? Why did the birds attack?
Why spoil the film with an explanation?
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
This movie scared me to death when I was five. My parents had dumped
the four of us at a theatre for the afternoon and two hours later, I
was a swollen, puffy mess, still sobbing from the horror I had
witnessed. That was 35 years ago, but you'd think it happened
yesterday, the way my sister still sadistically laughs at me for being
so frightened. I no longer react with fear upon seeing the movie but
it is with a wizened eye that I now look at the scenes that had such
impact: and they're still some of the scariest scenes put on film. Done
entirely without music, the scenes unreel with alarming suspense. The
theme of nature-run-amok has been made into mincemeat in the decades
since, but seldom with such a deft touch. Much is made about the
outdated special effects, but they are mild compared to the overusage
in modern films. Tippi Hedren, whom Hitchcock spotted in a diet drink
commercial and became his latest obsession, makes her debut as the cool
and soignee Melanie Daniels, socialite-at-large. Hedren, who named her
daughter Melanie (Griffith) after her character, subsequently had a
less-than-stellar career, starring in such classics as *Teresa's
Tattoo* and *Return to Green Acres*. The plot line involving Daniels
and her pursuit of attorney Mitch Brenner definitely has problems, but
seems necessary to create the atmosphere and set the stage for the real
stars of the movie the birds. There are so many birds in this movie,
billing and cooing with an innocence that belies their malevolence,
that the nightmare unfolding on the screen must have been rivaled by
the nightmare on the set. Tales of tranquilizing the birds and wiring
them in place surely would cause distress among animal-rights activists
today. Jessica Tandy is chill and formidable as Mitch's mother, Lydia,
and Suzanne Pleshette, as schoolteacher Annie Hayworth, is one of the
most interesting characters in the movie. And her final scene is most
memorable, as she is found facedown in front of her home, pecked to
The climactic attack that takes place at Mitch's home is sheer brilliance. As the birds are pecking through the door and gathering in the attack, there is a sense of madness unleashed that is breathtaking. The ambiguity of the ending has been roundly criticized but it is most successful in leaving behind a sense that the story is not quite over. Of course, it wasn't quite over it had to be insulted with a sequel, *The Birds II*. The film has acquired a certain campiness over the years that allows the sophisticated viewer to look past the obvious plot devices, and find an arch humor in the classic scenes. From Melanie getting clocked on the forehead by a seagull, to the crotchety ornithologist at the café, to the scene with the guy whose eyes have pecked out, to the amassing of the birds at the schoolhouse, where the children are singing what is surely the longest children's song ever written, the scenes are imprinted indelibly on our memories. So much so, that Tippi has become a popular Halloween costume just pin a bird in your wig, and you're instantly Melanie Daniels. It's easy to laugh at something that used to be scary, but is there anyone that doesn't think of *The Birds* whenever they see more than a dozen of them get together?
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