The Bird with the Crystal Plumage Blue Underground Edition

Italy - Germany / 1970 Directed by Dario Argento Starring Tony Musante Suzy Kendall Eva Renzi Color / 96 Minutes / Not Rated Format: DVD (R0 - NTSC / 2-disc set) Blue Underground

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Also on Blu-ray (Feb. 2009)

9     9   10 = Highest Rating   Guest Review by Troy Howarth

Sam Dalmas (Tony Musante), an American writer living in Rome, witnesses an attempted murder and becomes the target of the crazed killer...     It's sometimes suggested that Dario Argento invented the giallo — a singularly Italian brand of thriller typified by seedy plot elements and fetishistic murder set pieces — with the 1970 release of The Bird with the Crystal Plumage. In truth, Argento didn't invent the genre at all — the true father of the cinematic giallo was Argento's mentor Mario Bava, who by 1970 had already made The Girl Who Knew Too Much (1962), Blood and Black Lace (1964) and Hatchet for the Honeymoon (1970). Apart from Bava, other Italian directors had tried their hand at the formula, including Lucio Fulci (Perversion Story, 1968), Umberto Lenzi (Orgasmo, 1968) and Riccardo Freda (Double Face, 1969). In bringing this unauthorized adaptation of the Fredric Brown novel Screaming Mimi to the screen, Argento wasn't really doing anything terribly new in terms of content; Bava, in particular, had laid the groundwork of fetishistic murder set-pieces in Blood and Black Lace and had already explored the dark recesses of a childhood trauma in Hatchet for the Honeymoon — but what he did bring to the format was a youthful exuberance that connected with viewers in a way that those earlier films had failed to do. If Argento didn't exactly invent the subgenre, he certainly popularized it, opening the floodgates on a veritable tidal wave of Italian thrillers that continues to the present day.     Bird is as good a debut feature as one could imagine. In terms of its story and structure, the film lays the groundwork for most of Argento's filmography — one could make a convincing argument that, excepting his odd forays into straightforward horror or other mixed genres, he's literally spent his entire career remaking this intricately plotted thriller, forever looking for subtle (and not-so-subtle) twists to perfect the formula. The project originated with Argento's friend (and co-Once Upon a Time in the West-scribe) Bernardo Bertolucci — Bertolucci, already a successful director in his own right, was introduced to Brown's sleazy murder mystery and saw cinematographic potential in it. In fact, American director Gerd Oswald had already done a straightforward adaptation in 1958, starring Swedish sexpot Anita Ekberg (La Dolce Vita). For whatever reason, Bertolucci decided to pass on the project but recognized it as ideal subject matter for Argento. Argento, who up until that point had never considered directing, hammered out a screenplay that he was so proud of that he asked his father, producer Salvatore Argento, for the opportunity to direct it himself — having already seen some of his scripts butchered by hack filmmakers, he didn't want to risk this one being altered for the worse by another pair of hands. The rest, as they say, is history...     In many respects a far more coherent and tightly plotted film than many of his later works, Bird is uncommonly sure-footed for a debut feature. If the film lacks the audacity of his later films, it pays to remember that, hey, we all gotta start somewhere. This is not to suggest that the film is at all flat or functional in its execution — together with cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (Apocalypse Now), Argento creates a number of vivid images. The rightly celebrated scene in which Dalmas is caught between the glass doors of the art museum, helplessly watching as the murderer attempts to kill a young woman, is but one of many bravura set-pieces that belie the presence of a novice filmmaker. Argento maintains a high level of tension and suspense throughout, peppering the action with touches of humor that are more successful than some of the humorous vignettes in his later films. Compared to some of his other films, Bird also displays a palpable affection for its characters. Dalmas may be obsessive in his quest to unmask the murderer, thus connecting him to later 'amateur sleuths' that dominate his filmography, but he is portrayed in a sympathetic and endearing manner. His interaction with oddball supporting characters feels natural and organic to the plot, something that can't always be said of Argento's other pictures, and even the scenes with the police have a sense of urgency that is rare in this type of film. Argento introduces his favored themes of lack of communication and the faultiness of the memory in this film, as well: Dalmas is obsessed by the idea that he is forgetting an important clue, and this obsession consumes him throughout, while the final twist at the end reveals a visual sleight of hand that Argento continues to tinker with in his newer thrillers like Sleepless (2000) and The Card Player (2005).     NOTE The following paragraph contains spoilers. Those who have not seen this film are strongly advised to skip over it.     The casting and technical credits are topnotch. Tony Musante (The Incident, TV's Toma) and Argento had a rocky relationship on this picture, something that would color the director's attitude towards actors for many years, but their tension doesn't manifest itself on screen. He makes for a likable protagonist, effectively conveying a wide range of emotions from his initial cockiness to the edgier quality he attains as the narrative unfolds; along with David Hemmings in Deep Red (1975), Max Von Sydow in Sleepless, Karl Malden in The Cat o' Nine Tails (1970) and Anthony Franciosa in Tenebre (the latter ironically being another performer whom Argento couldn't stand), he is far and away the most engaging of Argento's giallo protagonists. Suzy Kendall (Torso) doesn't have a lot to do as Musante's love interest, but she rises to the occasion during her lengthy stalking scene. Enrico Maria Salerno, one of Italy's premiere film and theatre performers, steals scene after scene as the distracted police inspector — his charming, intelligent performance adds immensely to the police procedural set-pieces, very often an interminable time-killer in films of this ilk. Eva Renzi (Funeral in Berlin) is initially in much the same position as Kendall, seemingly cast as a hapless would-be victim, but she gives a convincing portrayal of sadistic dementia when she is unmasked as the killer. Familiar Euro cult faces like Mario Adorf (Short Night of the Glass Dolls), Umberto Raho (Baron Blood), Fulvio Mingozzi (Suspiria), and Reggie Nalder (Mark of the Devil) show up in small supporting roles; Adorf is particularly memorable as a reclusive artist with a taste for cat meat. Storaro's stylish cinematography and Ennio Morricone's marvelous score — alternating between childish lullaby-like themes and atonal experimental jazz — are the icing on the cake.     A first-class example of its genre, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage may not be the first film of its kind, but it is one the best.

Blue Underground's new two-disc special edition of The Bird with the Crystal Plumage has been getting a little flack on internet message boards, but a good deal of the furor amounts to much ado about nothing. Compared to the previous R1 release by VCI, which looked perfectly acceptable for its time, this new release is much improved. The high definition 2.35/16x9 transfer was supervised by cinematographer Vittorio Storaro and includes some brief snippets of violence cut from other releases; these images don't amount to a lot, at least when compared to the restored versions made available in recent years (the U.S. theatrical version was cut for a PG rating), but it's nice to have everything back where it belongs. In terms of color and print quality, this release blows the VCI edition out of the water. However, a relatively recent Italian DVD release from Medusa can at least boast a slightly sharper image. In an effort to reduce grain and other imperfections, Blue Underground have filtered the image too heavily — as a result, long shots tend to have a slight softness in detail, hurting the resolution. In truth, this is something most viewers won't even pick up on, but it deserves to be noted. The image also suffers a bit from edge enhancement — a shimmering effect that affects lines within the image (noticeable particularly in scenes that feature Venetian blinds or gaudy wallpaper, for example) — but this is seldom a distraction. All told, the film may not look 100% perfect, but in terms of color it trumps the Italian release, and in terms of overall presentation it is a marked improvement on the VCI edition. In short, viewers who really love the film will want to splurge on an upgrade. Audio options are plentiful, including three different variations on the English and Italian soundtracks. Both language options include the original mono tracks, as well as new stereo and 5.1 remix tracks. The mono tracks are sharp and clear, sounding better than any other home video presentation of this film in either language. Purists will no doubt carp at the remix options, but BU have outdone themselves in creating richly detailed remixes. Viewers with the appropriate setup should really try the 5.1 mix, as it shows off Morricone's score to nerve-jangling advantage.     If the picture quality is flawed — though, again, hardly to the distracting degree that some on-line viewers have maintained — it's impossible to fault Blue Underground on the Extras front. An audio commentary with Argento scholar Alan Jones and genre critic Kim Newman is entertaining, but has some problems. Jones and Newman overzealously credit Argento with innovations in the giallo genre that were, in fact, already in place, and Newman takes some rather unfair potshots at Argento's "rival" Lucio Fulci (for example, his nonsensical assertion that A Lizard in a Woman's Skin is "exactly" like Bird; it's common practice to dismiss Fulci as a hack imitator), but Jones imparts some interesting info about the production. Jones and Newman clearly have fun talking through the film, but they offer precious little information on the cast and crew beyond some footnotes on the leads. Newman's key contribution is to emphasize the influence of the German krimi thrillers, based on the stories of Edgar Wallace, not only on this film but on the development of the giallo in general — this is a very valid point, and one that many Italian thriller enthusiasts tend to gloss over. All told, it's a fun track to listen to but one that doesn't offer a lot of insight into its production or proper place in the giallo canon. U.S. and Italian theatrical trailers and an Argento bio round out Disc 1, while Disc 2 includes featurette interviews with Argento, Storaro, Morricone and Renzi. Argento's is, of course, the longest of the these, and he recalls the film with tremendous fondness, even going so far as to soft-pedal his negative comments about Musante. The Storaro and Morricone interviews are interesting if a bit insubstantial, while the segment with Renzi is notable for her blunt and somewhat egocentric commentary on her career, or lack thereof. Shot shortly before her premature death in 2005, the interview — the only one of the bunch in English — is surprisingly candid and forthcoming, with Renzi expressing fondness for Argento, dislike for Musante, and a general bitterness over the way she perceived the role affected her career (she pretty much figured it killed a great career in the making). 12/16/05

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