Vivid, thrilling and ghastly: new theatrical adaptation of The Birds evokes climate disaster, terrorism and lockdown
- Written by The Conversation
Malthouse’s new production of The Birds is a thrillingly realised take on the 1952 short story by Daphne Du Maurier. Adapted by Louise Fox and directed by Matthew Lutton, this vivid realisation is a chilling treatise on fear and resilience in the face of an external threat.
Paula Arundell plays Tessa, a wife and mother whose family has recently undergone a seachange to a sleepy little coastal town. Tessa serves as both our narrator and key storyteller as the show unfolds, and Arundell embodies multiple other characters with precise vocal and physical shifts.
As the birds start to amass on the sleepy seaside hamlet, Tessa becomes increasingly concerned about their intentions. After a random avian attack on a neighbour and the terror of the persistent nocturnal window-tapping visitors who eventually invade Tessa’s daughter’s bedroom, it becomes clear to Tessa her concerns are justified.
At first, no one takes the threat of the birds as seriously as Tessa. They fail to recognise the sinister and particular interest the birds have in the human species. Her husband and neighbour dismiss Tessa’s concerns as a sort of paranoia.
But as the amount of birds begins to sharply increase, creating a shadow in the sky that blocks out the sun, Tessa becomes the galvanising force determined to protect her family from this imminent deadly attack.
A theatrical feat
Sound, light and text support the audience to imagine rich landscapes of domestic, natural and urban settings.
Kat Chan’s set is stripped back, with a raised area in the middle of the stage and a few set and prop items on long tables along the walls. With this deceptively simple design, we are transported to the seashore, the interior of a home and a neighbourhood park as we journey with Tessa over two or three days during this apocalyptic disaster.
J. David Franzke’s sound design is a feat of theatrical audio engineering. Headphones immerse the audience within a binaural sonic landscape.
Every sound Arundell makes on stage is emphasised, interwoven with a cacophony of bird squawks, cries, songs and calls.
Microphones and speakers are all cleverly disguised as wooden bird boxes, adding a beautiful conceptual touch to the never-seen – but absolutely present – flocks of murderous birds.
Post-pandemic theatre
In the original story, the male protagonist strategises his defence against the birds using logic and reasoning, as a post-World War Two disability limits him physically.
Fox’s adaptation nods to this part of the original story by a subtle reference to Tessa’s husband’s mental health, and that he has been “let go” (or, as he interjects, “let down”) by his company.
It is clear Tessa must use her wits to protect her family, including her husband. She has no one she can rely on but herself.
As this story reaches a ghastly and violent climax, I was struck by the similarities to some of the experience of pandemic lockdowns, still so recent in our collective memory.
Creative responses that reflect and depict this time are only really just beginning to emerge on Australian stages.
Maybe it was the effect of wearing headphones while watching a live performance that catapulted me back to the isolated feeling of only connecting with others outside my home through the digital realm.
Tessa barricades her frightened family in her house to fend off this pervasive and ever-present threat. She counts her food supplies and how long they might last, operates under a curfew controlled by the tides, and tunes into the radio to hear what the government has to say about the bird situation. I was taken immediately back to a time of daily COVID numbers and premier briefings, toilet paper rationing and social distancing.
The possibility of what The Birds represents is manifold, with ideas of climate disaster, genocide, war and terrorism all present in the storytelling and the richly evocative text.
The simple final image of a woman reclining on a chair, calmly reciting names of bird species as she smokes a cigarette and awaits the dread that will come in the night is a powerful symbol of quiet fortitude.
Perhaps in this post pandemic context, it is Tessa’s determination in the face of this catastrophe that might speak to us of resilience in the face of seemingly impossible disasters and how we must continue to adapt, fight and resist to survive.
The Birds is at Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne, until June 7.
