As the birds swarm our newly installed backyard feeder, I think, of course, of Alfred Hitchcock‘s 1963 movie which introduced Tippi Hedren, mother to Melanie Griffiths, who, it must be said, doesn’t look like she’s had much work if any done on her face, unlike so many of her acting cohort.
But back to Hitchcock. Beyond his intentionally creepy on-screen persona in Alfred Hitchcock Presents, I have a vague sense that Hitchcock was personally creepy, at least with young women wanting to be movie stars. Hollywood, after all. What are the odds?
I look to see if any of that is covered in the Wiki article, and there is that and more. Be careful what you look for. But I also stumble across a few funny bits, like this one.
I remember discussing with a method actor how he was taught and so forth.
He said, ‘We’re taught using improvisation. We are given an idea
and then we are turned loose to develop [it] in any way we want to.’
I said, ‘That’s not acting. That’s writing.’
– Hitchcock’s 1967 recounting of an encounter
All of which has nothing to do with my The Birds. I just wanted to juxtapose these charming backyard visitors with some ridiculously ominous music more suited to Hitchcock’s film, or to Daphne du Maurier’s original short story. And so I did.
What’s next? I’m not sure, but I’ve thought about a Field of Dreams version. Tagline?
Fill it and they will come.