Poor Tippi Hedren. She's a pretty, blond model from the Minnesota flatlands who is adopted, groomed, publicized, manipulated, groped, and finally propositioned by the great Alfred Hitchcock. The fat old Hitchcock is played by Toby Jones, who gives the only half-way believable performance in the movie, quite aside from his physical and vocal reincarnation of Hitch.
The lousy script gives him a few moments of humanity, which come across more as self pity than pathos. But otherwise he's domineering, stingy sadist who subjects Hedren to dozens of takes in "The Birds" in which live birds are forced to attack her. She endures bird bites. Her only reward -- celebrity, cinematic immortality, and a salary that was about a million times what you and I make. I felt sympathy for her mistreatment but would have traded places with her in an instant. As a result of this abuse, she's directed by her doctor to take five days off. Everyone on the set frets because this is costing money. But when she's recovered, she swings onto the set, flings away her coat, faces the camera with a brave grin, and announces, "Let's finish this movie." Everyone on the set applauds her dedication and courage.
The direction matches the script and the acting. The screen is full of monstrous and very meaningful close ups. In case you might miss the importance of a particular point, the camera dollies in for that close up. They're usually of Hitch's stony face or Hedren's frightened one.
Donald Spoto, who wrote a candid but sympathetic biography of Hitchcock, was a script consultant and, by and large, the story follows historical reality, in so far as that can be determined through the testimony of Tippi Hedren. It's her story, and both Hitchcock and most of his friends are now dead and in no position to object. Of the private encounters between Hedren and Hitch, I believe about half.
I don't know why it was left out of the script but by the end of "Marnie," Hedren's second film with Hitchcock, Hitch was guzzling booze by the barrel. Well, it's not exactly left out. There is one scene of Hitch drunk.
But why go on? This shabby affair doesn't deserve more attention.
The lousy script gives him a few moments of humanity, which come across more as self pity than pathos. But otherwise he's domineering, stingy sadist who subjects Hedren to dozens of takes in "The Birds" in which live birds are forced to attack her. She endures bird bites. Her only reward -- celebrity, cinematic immortality, and a salary that was about a million times what you and I make. I felt sympathy for her mistreatment but would have traded places with her in an instant. As a result of this abuse, she's directed by her doctor to take five days off. Everyone on the set frets because this is costing money. But when she's recovered, she swings onto the set, flings away her coat, faces the camera with a brave grin, and announces, "Let's finish this movie." Everyone on the set applauds her dedication and courage.
The direction matches the script and the acting. The screen is full of monstrous and very meaningful close ups. In case you might miss the importance of a particular point, the camera dollies in for that close up. They're usually of Hitch's stony face or Hedren's frightened one.
Donald Spoto, who wrote a candid but sympathetic biography of Hitchcock, was a script consultant and, by and large, the story follows historical reality, in so far as that can be determined through the testimony of Tippi Hedren. It's her story, and both Hitchcock and most of his friends are now dead and in no position to object. Of the private encounters between Hedren and Hitch, I believe about half.
I don't know why it was left out of the script but by the end of "Marnie," Hedren's second film with Hitchcock, Hitch was guzzling booze by the barrel. Well, it's not exactly left out. There is one scene of Hitch drunk.
But why go on? This shabby affair doesn't deserve more attention.