Editorials
Forces of Nature: The Power of Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’ 60 Years Later
Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds has become such an acknowledged classic and even cultural touchstone that it is easy to forget how revolutionary it was upon its 1963 release. For the Master of Suspense himself, it was a departure in many ways from his previous work while still a testament to his craft and devotion to “pure cinema.” It all but single-handedly created, or at least redefined, an enduring horror subgenre—the animal attack film. Finally, in creating this subgenre, The Birds explores themes of humankind’s place in the world and the unpredictable power of nature. It is also a particularly meaningful film for me as it was my first Hitchcock film and was introduced to me by my grandmother, who was a great fan of classic cinema in general and Alfred Hitchcock in particular. I saw the film during a memorable stay at her home when I was around ten or eleven years old and I have never gotten over my first experience with it or the fascination with Hitchcock’s work that it inspired.
Perhaps because of his moniker and reputation as The Master of Suspense (which in ensuing years has been applied to any number of horror filmmakers and authors), or because his most famous film for decades was Psycho, a huge international hit that changed the way films were made and exhibited, Hitchcock is often classified as a horror director, especially by those less familiar with the breadth of his work. In reality, only a handful of his films could be classified as horror or even horror adjacent. The vast majority of his movies are about ordinary people drawn into webs of intrigue dealing with national and international crime and espionage. The Birds, however, fits firmly into the genre and contains some of the Master’s most intense, frightening, and bloody moments.
Also, unlike most of Hitchcock’s films in which humans are the primary villains, here he taps into a primal fear—the power of nature. In exploring this, he takes a great deal of time to get to know the human characters, whose desires and fears are central to their relatability to the audience. And so, one of the greatest features, and for some a frustration, is how long the story takes to develop its characters and setting before a single bird attack occurs. Rather than a device within the plot, the Hitchcockian “bomb under the table” in The Birds is the title itself. When the birds finally do begin their rampage, it is all the more shocking because we know they are coming but have no idea when. This makes the “slow burn” nature of the film key to its effectiveness. By the time the bird attacks begin to happen, we are very familiar with the characters and like them a great deal.
Except for the ominous title sequence created by the great Saul Bass and a circling flock of birds in a San Francisco city square in the opening moments, The Birds plays out like a relationship drama for about forty-five minutes of its two-hour runtime. Tippi Hedren is immensely likable as the alluring and mischievous Melanie Daniels, the latest iteration of the cool “Hitchcock Blonde” in the tradition of Grace Kelly, Kim Novak, and Eva Marie Saint. Rod Taylor also fits the Hitchcock bill as Mitch Brenner, the young, but not too young, handsome professional with the strong mother figure in his life. Melanie develops a friendship with Annie Hayworth (Suzanne Pleschette), the “Midge” (Barbara Bel Geddes’ character in 1958’s Vertigo) of the film who has a clear attraction to the leading man, though he is now drawn to the “cool blonde.” The precocious kid sister, Cathy Brenner, played by a very young Veronica Cartwright over fifteen years before her roles in Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) and Alien (1979), is not too far removed from the younger sister Ann in Shadow of a Doubt (1943). Though all these characters can be found in various forms in much of Hitchcock’s work, they are presented and developed differently in The Birds. Even the Hitchcock trope of the “domineering mother” turns out to have much more depth and likability in Lydia Brenner, played by the great Jessica Tandy, than practically any other film in his oeuvre.
When the first bird attack does come, it is out of nowhere, not only shocking Melanie, who is attacked, but Mitch, and by extension the audience, who witnesses it. It is a single bird, a gull, who drops out of nowhere and pecks Melanie on the forehead, drawing blood, as she steers an outboard motorboat toward Mitch as he waits on the dock originally intending to confront her for the mild prank she just pulled on him. The next attack is unseen, but we see the results in a dead gull on Annie’s porch after she and Melanie hear a loud “thunk” at the door. From there, the attacks become more intense as Cathy’s birthday party is terrorized by gulls and crows, a flock of sparrows comes down the chimney of the family home, and Lydia discovers the corpse of her neighbor, his eyes pecked out in perhaps the bloodiest image in Hitchcock. The special effects (a combination of process shots, trained birds, and puppets) used to create these scenes were cutting edge for the time and still hold up surprisingly well today, but ultimately it is how well we know the people that are being attacked that makes them most effective.
Another key reason the suspense works so well in The Birds is Hitchcock’s devotion to his doctrine of “pure cinema.” Simply put, pure cinema is the combination of images and sound effects without dialogue or score precisely calibrated to create maximum impact. Despite a history of great composers as collaborators, Hitchcock preferred certain scenes to play out without score. He originally intended the shower scene in Psycho to play without music, but maestro Bernard Herrmann wrote something anyway. After hearing it against the images, Hitchcock reportedly doubled his salary. In the case of The Birds, however, Hitchcock wanted the entire picture to play without score and hired Herrmann as “sound consultant.” The result is a kind of “sound effects score” using the flapping and shrieking of the birds to punctuate and underscore the emotional power of the images. One of the great examples of pure cinema in the entire Hitchcock canon is the scene in which Melanie waits outside the school for Cathy. As she waits, crows gather on the jungle gym behind her. Because of previous sequences, we know that no one is safe in this film, including children, and the ensuing attack remains one of the great horror passages in all of film history.
This only heightens in a sequence that comes a few minutes later as the birds devastate the entire town of Bodega Bay. In one of the great moments of all time, we are given a “God’s eye view,” with the highest overhead shot that Hitchcock ever employed, as birds one by one enter the frame descending toward the town. Chaos ensues as gulls, crows, and more slam into the windows of a phone booth, peck and bite at screaming townspeople, and cause a gasoline spill that leads to a gigantic fire. It is interesting that the filmmakers then move from the widest scale destruction of the movie to end on a far more intimate note when Melanie is attacked in the attic of the Brenner home. According to Hedren, she told the director that she had to have some kind of motivation to go into that attic. “Why would I go in there?” she asked. His response: “because I tell you to.” This was not atypical of the director who was often more interested in the technical aspects of his films, hiring actors he knew could do the job without needing too much guidance from him. He had little patience for even the slightest whiff of method acting, even something so basic as character motivations.
What is revolutionary about the animal attacks in The Birds is that they are just birds. They are not giant radioactive mutants like the ants in Them! (1954), the spider in Tarantula (1955), or the monstrosity in The Deadly Mantis (1957). There is also no motive or reason given for their sudden turn upon humanity. This set a trend for animal attack films to follow. Willard (1971), Frogs (1972), Phase IV (1974—the only feature film directed by frequent Hitchcock collaborator Saul Bass), Ants (1977), The Swarm (1978), Roar (1981—also starring Tippi Hedren), Deadly Eyes (1982), Arachnophobia (1990), and many more clearly owe some inspiration to The Birds. Of course, in 1975, the greatest heir to the kind of animal attack movie created by The Birds—Jaws, created a slew of imitators in its wake as well. In all these films, the animals don’t necessarily act exactly as they would in reality, but it is not entirely implausible. There is an immediacy to the danger that we, the viewers, can relate to.
As humans, we like to believe that we are the masters of the universe. That we have “tamed” nature and broken it to our will. This despite frequent reminders that we are so small against the awesome power of the natural world. Films like The Birds go a long way to remind us of that fact. For many years, my family and I have spent a week in Cannon Beach, Oregon and for the last few I have gotten up before sunrise for an early morning walk on the beach. I have found that an especially peaceful and centering time. This year, however, we arrived in the town to learn that a cougar had found its way onto the gigantic Haystack Rock just off the shore and did not seem all that interested in leaving. The first thing that sprang to my mind?—The Birds. Even though it was soon reported that the cougar had made its way back to the woods, I decided to forego my morning walks this year; it just seemed like a good idea. You just never know.
This kind of uncertainty is illustrated so powerfully by the closing scene of the film which takes place in the early morning. After Melanie is discovered by Mitch, covered with blood and lacerations from her ordeal in the attic, they look outside to find the birds, hundreds of them, just sitting there. They carefully open the door and find that the birds do not stir. They just wait. Slowly, the remaining members of the central cast make their way to the waiting car with little incident beyond a bite at Mitch’s finger that gets a little too close to one of the crows. They all make it to the car and begin to drive off. And the birds watch and wait. But we know that at any moment…that all could change.
In Bride of Frankenstein, Dr. Pretorius, played by the inimitable Ernest Thesiger, raises his glass and proposes a toast to Colin Clive’s Henry Frankenstein—“to a new world of Gods and Monsters.” I invite you to join me in exploring this world, focusing on horror films from the dawn of the Universal Monster movies in 1931 to the collapse of the studio system and the rise of the new Hollywood rebels in the late 1960’s. With this period as our focus, and occasional ventures beyond, we will explore this magnificent world of classic horror. So, I raise my glass to you and invite you to join me in the toast.
Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.
Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.
Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.
It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.
At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.
It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.
As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.
Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.
Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.
Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.
I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.
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