Ma prima li minacciano, questi spazi, incombono su di essi. E allora scopriamo che questi due film si limitano soltanto a suggellare (a mettere a punto e anzi rendere monumentale e trasformare in "totale") un rimuginare verso l'astrazione che cova già nei primi film di Hitchcock (con le sue geometrie euforiche, golose; le linee detergenti, i volumi sequestranti) e che si versa astuta e si rapprende nei celebri fondali finti: prue di navi che sono sul punto di perforare la parete della finzione (da qui la trovata di P.Weir nel finale di The Truman Show). Sporgenze sintattiche con cui la prosa visiva di Hitchcock mette in imbarazzo (in stato imbarazzante) se stessa, allevando nel grembo piccoli mostri figurativi pronti a essere generati.
Francesco Romeo | #spioncino
Funambolic birds
Without the shadow of a doubt (and so I collaterally celebrate the Master's movie preferred by the Master), the birds embalmed in Psyco by Norman Bates (a name that mockingly rubs with the word "normal") come furiously to life in Birds - colonizing the soundtrack: the sound is fury - almost as if they were, in the previous movie, the incubation of a symbol (or the gun that appears in the first half of the book and then shoots in the second half), and attack the spaces of the sequence, of the scene, of the shot.
But first they threaten these spaces, they impend on them. And so we discover that these two movies limit themselves to seal (and precise and make monumental and transform into "total") a brood towards abstraction that is already there in Hitchcock's first movies (with his euphoric, tasty geometries; the detergent lines, the sequestering volumes) and that pours itself and coagulates in the famous fake backgrounds: ship bows that are about to perforate the wall of fiction (hence P. Weir's idea in the final scene of The Truman Show). Syntactic protrusions with which Hitchcock's visual prose puts itself in an embarassing state, growing in its womb small figurative monsters, ready to be generated.
An imminence of autopiercing, on behalf of the visual charisma of Hitch (et nunc), the perverse way to ventriloque with images, of building a leopardian hunch or a dürerian gibbosity the representative shine of his morphologically cinema housed in luxury. The birds in the final scene don't assault as they could, they stay, they lurk grasping the phone lines (a horizontal seriality of installations), becoming silhouettes, gargoiles: stylized pressures on the center of gravity of the floor: black ties of fake backgrounds (sly delegitimation ritual of every myth of representation). And so we discover that by opening the bottles big and small of Morandi we extract, like ciseled sailing ships, bird cries.
Francesco Romeo | #spioncino