The Birds

[This post actually written Sunday, May 8, 2011, then backdated.]

Oh, hi. Tonight we're watching Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, which is a recent pickup for me. I found the Alfred Hitchcock Masterpiece Collection — 14 great Hitchcock films in one set — and I couldn't resist the deep discount price of none-of-your-business.

Despite being ready for another film that starts with "H," the rules state that if I purchase a film that starts with a letter I've already passed, then I have to go backward and back-date. This Hitchcock set comes with three films that I have to go back and get, and I'm sure this is all terribly interesting to you. Got me started again after more than a month, though.

Anyway, Hitchcock — Mom was always a fan, as was my grandma. Both of them loved Psycho, and if I'm not mistaken, North By Northwest, and I vaguely remember them talking about this one. Mom also turned me on to "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" at a young age, and I recently rediscovered those little episodes of suspense and sardonic humor. Good stuff.

Hitchcock set The Birds in Bodega Bay, California, which has particular significance to the wife and I, as we spent an evening there on our honeymoon. There were no plagues of birds, but we were alarmed by a giant, shaggy dog.

We actually checked in at The Flamingo Motel in Santa Rosa, which isn't far from Bodega Bay. We decided we wanted seafood for dinner, and the desk clerk sent us to the coast. We drove through Sebastopol that evening, listening to Jay Farrar's Sebastopol album on my iPod (duh) and as the skies darkened around us, we started to wonder why we hadn't found the coast yet. A few minutes later, we found the Pacific Coast Highway, and then Bodega Bay, where we found a little restaurant called Cioppino that would serve us dinner at 8:30 p.m. As we were leaving, we were alarmed by a mean-looking, shaggy dog standing in the parking lot, staring at us through the glass. No way we were going outside. Turns out, the dog belonged to this weird dude who came in at closing time and ordered a pizza. The dog went away and we left.

That restaurant is gone now, but memories don't go out of business. Despite the dog, that was one of the best evenings of our honeymoon, and watching The Birds brings all that back.

Memories of a honeymoon are much better visuals than, say, the birds exploding out of the fireplace, or the aftermath of the attack that left that one guy bloody and eyeless, or the immortal playground scene. The Birds isn't Hitchcock's best film, or my favorite or his, but as a part of a 14-film set called "The Masterpiece Collection," this one fits perfectly.