By Camille Paglia
104 pages; published 1998, by BFI Film Classics
This book is part of a nifty series published by the British
Film Institute, which commissioned a gamut of writers to pen
short, pocket-sized books about a classic film that has special
significance for each of them. The combination of professional
provocateur Camille Paglia with one of Alfred Hitchcock's
coolest, coldest films, The Birds, goes together like
strawberries and whipped cream.
Shake a film fan awake in the middle of the night and ask
them "What is The Birds about?" and they're
likely to mumble "man vs. nature," then may add
"Tippi Hedren getting pecked to death." Neither
answer is quite correct. Hedren is attacked but survives,
although she's practically catatonic as the film closes. And
according to Paglia, who admittedly is somewhat obsessed with
the sexual side, The Birds is less about nature striking
back at man than about the war of the sexes writ large.
Paglia makes a strong case for this thesis, using Hitchcock's
well-known emphasis on visual rather than verbal storytelling
to make a number of her points. (A film professor of mine
once said that Hitchcock made silent films that just happened
to have soundtracks, and he meant it as a compliment. Watch
Psycho with the sound off some time and you'll see
what he means.)
According to Paglia, what's unsaid - or rather, what's said
with gesture, body language and visual signs and symbols -
is far more important than the words that are spoken, which
are, with a few exceptions, rather banal in this film. I heard
Paglia speak about this before a screening of The Birds
several years ago, and her overall message was, don't listen
to the words the characters use - they lie and mislead with
what they say. Watch what the people do and how they interact
with each other to see what's really going on.
Take the opening scene, set in a large pet store in San Francisco.
It's the first meeting of Hedren's character Melanie Daniels
and Rod Taylor's Mitch. Not only do both characters - the
cool, sexy Hitchcock blonde and the gruffly masculine hero
- not say what they mean, they're actively involved in impostures
from the moment they lay eyes on each other. Hedren pretends
to be a salesgirl in order to help Taylor pick out a pair
of lovebirds; Taylor pretends not to know that Hedren is actually
an irresponsible heiress-playgirl. Both also pretend not to
have the hots for each other, with varying degrees of success.
It's a meet-cute with shades of foreboding (Hedren lets a
bird escape from a cage and it flies wildly about the shop,
until Taylor captures it with his hat. Unfortunately that's
about as successful as he gets at controlling and capturing
birds for the whole rest of the film.)
Paglia also focuses on the all-important female relationships
that string webs throughout The Birds: Melanie and
Annie (Suzanne Pleshette, the whiskey-voiced Bodega Bay schoolteacher
and Mitch's ex-girlfriend); Melanie and Mitch's mom (Jessica
Tandy, frosty as an icy country morning); Melanie and Mitch's
sister (Veronica Cartwright). Paglia catches that in this
film's mating game, it's the woman, Melanie, who does the
pursuing, using gifts, tricks and stratagems to capture the
prize (Mitch). In fact, with its competent, confident heroine,
The Birds is almost a 1930s-style screwball comedy,
at least at the beginning. As in the screwball form, the men
- even and especially the romantic "hero" - are
often obtuse and misinformed (Melanie asks several men for
the correct name of Mitch's younger sister, but only gets
the right answer from Annie). Later, when The Birds
moves out of the screwball vein, the men are portrayed as
foolish and inadvertently destructive (a man lighting his
cigar sets off the fiery holocaust that is the film's centerpiece).
Paglia is also alive to the nuances of performance. She takes
a paragraph to compliment Jessica Tandy's handling of a telephone
call, a basic bit of business that nevertheless conveys important
plot information and helps thicken the creepy mood. She quotes
Tippi Hedren's raptures about Ethel Griffies, who played the
old woman in the coffee shop who imparts crucial scientific
information about birds that also sets up the truly frightening
last third of the film. Paglia writes:
Despite her tender feeling for birds, the crushing statistics
that Mrs Bundy [Griffies] pedantically unleashes provide the
scene's climax: 'Birds have been on this planet, Miss Daniels,
since archaeopteryx - 140 million years ago.' There are '8,650
species of birds' and '100 billion birds' in the world today;
should all these species band together, 'we wouldn't have
a chance!'
Much as I like this book, I'm well aware that Paglia's authoritative,
I-see-more-than-you-do style, with its constant references
to other films, paintings, books, etc. can get on people's
nerves. My friend Michael described it very well: reading
Camille Paglia is frustrating because you agree with her so
incredibly wholeheartedly in one paragraph and disagree so
violently the next. She's such a forceful writer, and so certain
about the validity of her opinions, that it's like being swung
back and forth on an enormous pendulum. It's dizzying - but
fun, if you have the stomach for it.
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