The Birds Review

After a charming, pun-filled introduction, we are plunged into an ominous and surreal landscape filled with birds who are heard but not seen, calling out from the wings. Our two main characters, on-the-outs movie moguls, stand at the entrance to a new world in which fiction is reality and anything goes. The land of the birds is populated entirely by, as one might imagine, birds—all of whom are fiercely suspicious of humans. Soaked with pop culture references, the script is beautifully delivered by Ella Byrne-Cabot (Lea) and Hannah Jonsson (Michele). Their characters, increasingly dissatisfied with their lives as the generators of pop culture, go out in search for something greater; ideally, a life without work. They wish for their ideas to have value. Standing at the edge of the unknown, facing the mystical King of the Birds (Lisa Hood), Lea and Michele declare without hesitation: “We’re birds too!”

Lea, a self-assured and entrepreneurial young woman, meshes wonderfully with Michele, who fills the stage with a spellbinding enthusiasm. Lea spearheads the operation of building a “bird utopia” without hesitation, capitalizing on the naivety of the birds she claims to be helping. She is the perfect image of a flawed and human “girlboss”. Other characters are well-portrayed, too; the Bird Chorus consists of admirable performances ranging from maniacal (Declan Reidy) to comical (Dexter  Crory) to uber-dramatic (Colby LaPointe). Every role, no matter how brief, is given loving attention by the actor playing it. Tom Glorioso, Mia Clements, and Marissa Krampf deliver convincing depictions of bumbling, interfering humans. The Chorus as a whole moves in tandem to create the image of a vast bird society. 

As they build the city, Lea and Michele undergo a journey of transformation whilst seeking a life that treats them better. Using the tactics gained from their former employment to convince the birds that this endeavor is for the greater good, the movie moguls begin to enjoy reaping what they’ve sown a little too much. They use the birds to solve their underlying discontent with consumer culture and the state of human society. They revel in creating a place where their ideas are lauded for their freshness. No longer is content constantly recycled. Through the grapevine, those in the real world begin to speak of how Lea and Michele “just don’t like living with people anymore.”

Lea confronts her cynicism, the result of a lifetime of shunted dreams, by taking a tour of the worst characters humanity has to offer: politicians, PR guys, and folk singers. As has always been the case, everyone wants in on utopia. Some threaten, some beg, and some barter, but neither Lea nor Michele allow immigration, despite having been in the same situation earlier as they pleaded with the King to stay in the land of the birds. Humans tell tales of the outside world being enraptured by the land of the birds, signalling to Lea that she has finally made it big-time.

Threaded throughout the play are scenes in which the cantankerous Chorus Leader (Cali Gumuchian) sits the birds down and tells them a fable. The ingenious and well-crafted costumes of simple, bright feathers and bird masks, combined with the “storytime” format, transports the audience to memories of childhood. The fables themselves, applying so aptly to real events in the birds’ lives, remind us of the power of storytelling. We catch a brief glimpse into the world that Lea and Michele desire: one where fiction has not been commodified, and relatable tales may be enjoyed by all, for free.

However, Lea and Michele are ultimately too idealistic for their own good. The birds, initially suspicious, grow to love their newfound architects— “They’re going to build us a city in the sky!” Sadly, the bird haven ends up resembling the human world instead. The former moguls succeeded only in turning the supposed utopia into the mess that they tried to leave behind. In fact, halfway through the play, we begin to doubt the integrity of the idealism that got them there in the first place—it becomes clear they are in it only for themselves. Lea gives jaw-droppingly ironic advice to the process server who tries to gain entry to the city: “You should mask your scuzziness with something people think is great!” The lack of self-awareness is startling, and we begin to root for Lea’s downfall. Who does she think she is? The audience is tricked into supporting her gilded ideals until they are finally let down by the final city upgrade—it becomes a casino. The land of the birds is finally as monopolised and exploited as the real world. As the PR guy (Jay Nordahl) gives a rousing final speech lauding money-sucking activities now available for the birds, one is left feeling a mixture of revulsion and pity towards Lea. She shouldn’t have gambled with utopia.