The Bird With The Crystal Plumage (1970)
Distributor: Arrow
Blu-Ray Release Date: 23 May 2011
Directed by: Dario Argento
Starring: Tom Musante, Suzy Kendall, Enrico Maria Salerno
Review by: Nia Edwards-Behi
Looking back at Dario Argento’s first film in light of his later output is something of a bittersweet experience. Where more recent offerings from the one time maestro of the macabre have been disappointing to say the least, to revisit Bird with the Crystal Plumage is an absolute treat. A ground breaking thriller, Bird would become the blueprint for the wave after wave of gialli that followed. Argento’s animal trilogy is perhaps a little neglected in light of the later, giddy highs of Profondo Rosso and Suspiria, but its influence cannot be underestimated. Starting with Bird, the trilogy would cement the conventions of the distinctly Italian genre, refining what Mario Bava started with the likes of The Girl Who Knew Too Much.
American writer Sam Dalmas (Tony Musante) is witness to a knife attack on a woman in an art gallery. When he is forced to stay in Italy as a witness to the crime and potential suspect, he decides to try to solve the case himself, uncovering murder, intrigue and madness along the way. The opening attack is one of the great giallo set-pieces. As Dalmas is trapped between the locked sliding glass doors that mark the entrance to the gallery, he can do nothing but look on as Monica Ranieri (Eva Renzi) begs for help. What this set piece concisely encapsulates is one of the great themes of the giallo: the incompetence of traditional masculinity. The giallo protagonist is rarely a tough guy, and Argneto’s leading men aptly demonstrate this, his films populated with writers, musicians, painters and generally artistic types who decide to risk life and limb in order to uncover the perpetrators of violent crimes. Of course, it’s usually other people’s lives and limbs that end up maimed along the way. The artist triumphs at the film’s close, but rarely through any act of traditional heroics.
This sense of gender crisis is also effectively heightened by the film’s still-excellent twist. See the film once, twice or a fanatic’s number of times and the revelation of the killer’s identity still packs an impressive punch. Establishing what would also become a giallo and Argento staple, the revelation of the unexpected killer forces a questioning of what we’ve witnessed prior: horrendous acts of violence become all the more twisted in light of climactic revelations. These acts of violence that occur throughout the film still have the power to shock, particularly the infamous knicker-ripping murder. Franco Fraticelli’s editing ensures maximum effectiveness in a collaboration with Argento which would prove masterful time and time again. It’s not only of key murder scenes that this is true, but the lengthy yellow jackets chase sequence is as tense and exhilarating as it is ludicrous thanks in part to Fraticelli’s tight editing.
Another key aspect of what makes Argento’s films so successful, which is evident in Bird, is the wonderful sound-design. Given the key role of sound in the film’s narrative – a vital clue to discovering the killer’s identity comes in the form of a recording of the titular bird’s call – it comes as no surprise that sound and music is such an important factor of Bird’s tense atmosphere. Ennio Morricone’s intrusive but haunting music is memorable, as lurid at times as some of Argento’s bravura camerwork. Argento’s mastery of cinematic spectacle is evident, from the point-of-view shot of a woman as she smokes a cigarette in bed to throwing a camera out of a window to simulate the fall of a man.
Three impressive extras appear on Arrow’s Blu-ray edition of Bird. First, A Crystal Classic: Luigi Cozzi Remembers Dario’s Bloody Bird provides a very detailed account of the conception of Bird, and its significance to Italian cinema. There’s an interesting anecdote about Bertollucci’s involvement in noting The Screaming Mimi as a good novel to adapt, which would provide the uncredited inspiration for Bird. Cozzi also highlights the importance of key collaborators such as Fraticelli. Coinciding with the importance of Bird to the giallo, the interview Sergio Martino: The Genesis of the Giallo is practically a documentary, providing a very thorough consideration of the giallo from Martino, who collaborated with Argento and Bava, as well as directing his own, well-known gialli. Fond recollections of Bava and Fulci are just enjoyable snippets of what’s an informative and entertaining view of the genre, with a wonderful overview of Martino’s own film Torso. Again, it’s great to get the view of someone who worked within the genre, and to hear of its influence from an Italian perspective. For me, it was also nice to hear Martino attribute much of Italy’s international success to its genre cinema and not just their auteurist greats. The great Italian auteurs do get a look in, though, courtesy Argento himself, in The Italian Hitchcock: Dario Argento Remembers Bird with the Crystal Plumage. Despite the moniker used in the title, Argento himself notes “I am nothing like Hitchcock. He was a genius. A maestro.” It sounds modest, but it’s not so much the case as Argento discusses the influence of Antonioni on his own work, as well as his fondness for Fellini, Bergman, German Expressionism and the French New Wave. As always with these Argento interviews, it’s an incredibly self-reflective snippet from the man, but at the same time slightly schizophrenic.
As a fan, I’m always incredibly grateful to Arrow for the insights these interviews provide, as well as the loving transfers of the films. With several more Argento releases on their upcoming slate, this fan knows she’s got a lot to look forward to.