Jeff Kargus, Susan Wylie, and Livy Potthoff in the Albion Theatre production of The Birds
The concept of “The Birds” was first hatched in 1952 by Daphne du Maurier, one of the most celebrated English writers of the 20th century. She is best known for her romantic mystery novel Rebecca (which was also adapted for the screen by Alfred Hitchcock). The original “Birds” features a disabled war veteran and his family who must contend with some mysterious, natural phenomenon that has driven the birds of the world into a murderous rage. It symbolized the real danger-from-the-skies that many British people encountered during the Blitz. A tightly written psychological thriller, “The Birds” deliberately keeps readers in the dark about what happens before or after. Its humble human cast must simply deal with an impossible situation in a grounded, believable way.
This recent play version by Conor McPherson is much closer in spirit to that short story than the 1963 Hitchcock movie featuring Tippi Hedren. While that film is undeniably a classic, its production was far scarier than anything in the film. Hitchcock’s star, Tippi Hedren, was also the object of his obsessive desire. When Hendren rebuffed his advances, a frustrated Hitchcock decided to more-or-less torture his lead actress. After assurances that mechanical birds would be used for the shoot, Hendren instead found herself pecked and clawed by live birds tied to her clothes with nylon string. Suffice it to say, any modern production of The Birds must be willing to sacrifice some realism for the sake of safety—both for the actors and for the animals.
You might have trouble imagining how The Birds could work on stage, but Albion Theatre Company opts for an understated and clever approach. You never actually see birds, which is really the whole point: the birds symbolize whatever the main characters fear most about the world or themselves. Instead, you see projections of bird shadows flying across the stage and hear ominous cries and caws off in the distance. It’s just enough to immerse the audience without being distracting. The set itself is well-designed: a storm-battered cottage somewhere in New England. The parlor is where all of the action unfolds—where our three main characters become uncomfortably close.
Susan Wylie plays our protagonist, Diane, who is essentially the narrator of the story. A former novelist estranged from her daughter, Diane is suspicious of everyone she encounters. She has the kind of imagination that suggests she’s seen some things.
Ms. Wylie is a returning performer to Albion, having appeared in their 2025 production of Colder Than Here and 2024’s Woman in Mind. This is the first time in recent memory she’s played an American for Albion Theatre Company; her British accent in those past shows was so convincing, I could have been fooled into thinking she was an Englishwoman. Joining her is Livy Potthoff as Julia, another returning actor who starred alongside Wylie in Colder Than Here. They played a mother and daughter in that production, but here they share an inverted, dark mother-daughter dynamic that makes for a fascinating contrast.
Rounding out the initial cast is Nat, played by Jeff Kargus. He is a troubled veteran with the best survival skills and physical strength of the trio, which would make him a natural leader if he didn’t fly into rages, talk in his sleep, and harbor an almost murderous resentment toward his ex-wife. Things were going poorly for Nat long before the bird crisis kicked off, but now he suddenly finds himself in a position of trust and authority. He very well might be the last man alive, and Diane and Julia are determined to gain his trust and his protection. They are joined much later by a fourth survivor (Joseph Garner)—a mysterious farmer who occasionally shares his stockpile of ammo, pills, and canned goods, but always at a steep cost.
Clocking in at about 90 minutes without an intermission, The Birds is a briskly paced, taut psychological thriller. Its ambiguous ending leaves you uncertain of how to feel about any of the characters or who the “good guy” is supposed to be. At its core, the play explores the unreliability of memory, the fragility of human relationships, and how extreme external stress can unleash our worst inner demons.
The Birds runs for four more performances: Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at 7:30 PM, closing with a Sunday matinee at 2:00 PM on November 1. Like all of Albion’s programming, it takes place at the Kranzberg Black Box Theatre (501 N. Grand Blvd.), on the same block as The Fabulous Fox. Tickets range from $24 to $34. I highly recommend taking in an evening of thoughtful, high-stakes psychological horror that is much leaner and meaner than anything Hollywood has produced in recent memory. | Rob Von Nordheim
