Halloween Horror: The Birds (1963)

In this Hitchcock classic, squawks, chirps, and cackles are more terrifying than any musical score could be.

Some movies are meant to be seen in theatres. You'll often hear this about movies like Titanic, Independence Day, or anything by Michael Bay, in which the scale of disaster merits a 70-foot screen. Sure, seeing aliens take out the White House in a Cineplex is much more satisfying than watching it on your laptop, but my top pick for a movie that must be seen in the theatre is Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. The film may not be a big-budget blockbuster, but its sound requires the visceral impact of theatre speakers. And thanks to the wonderful place that is the Bloor Cinema, that's just what I experienced on a recent rainy evening.

The Birds has a marvellously simple plot: Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren) meets Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor). She decides to play a prank on him, so she goes to Bodega Bay, CA to find him. That’s when birds start attacking people.

I love this movie for many reasons – Edith Head’s costumes, the fact that the attacks are never explained, everything about Tippi Hedren – but mainly because it has no score. No music plays when the birds attack, or during the tender moments between Melanie and Mitch, or even over the opening credits. The only sound is diagetic, so the film's legacy isn't an overplayed theme, but rather the sounds of those birds. And what's so terrifying about that is that you hear it every day.

We not only watch movies, we also, just as importantly, listen to them. Sound plays a huge role in all film genres but it has a special place in horror – it’s sound that triggers thoughts of what goes bump in the night and evokes the invisible. How often have you, in a panic, pressed mute while watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre late at night? (Don't even – I know I'm not the only one who's done that.) Mute the sound, mute the horror.

But “mute” is unnatural, since hearing is a unique sense. You can close your eyes to not see, hold your breath to not smell, choose to not touch something, and close your mouth to not taste, but you can’t do anything to not hear. Plugging your ears is about as good as it gets. And hearing is a sense to be reckoned with – just look at Guantanamo Bay. When the birds dive-bomb the camera, the audience experiences not only a visual assault but also an aural one, as the layers of squawks, chirps, and cackles become a terrifying blanket of sound that smothers you.

And this is why The Birds is meant for the theatre – there's no mute button there.

Read Kiva Reardon's blog here.