The Wild Parrots Of Telegraph Hill

Irving cuts the film together to make subtle connections between the birds—which pair up, take care of their children, preen themselves with individual eccentricity, and fall prey to "the virus"—and the citizens of her city. She's particularly entranced by Bittner, who won't get a steady job, won't cut his hair until he gets a girlfriend, and won't impose his will on the parrots any more than is necessary. Since Irving is more interested in San Francisco wildlife than journalism, she's not above staging scenes to make a point. But the manipulation only extends as far as planting people in a crowd to ask Bittner leading questions about his birds, and about whether his stewardship interferes with the course of nature. His answer? No. The parrots would survive without him.

Even with the central question of whether a carefree man can learn to take care, The Wild Parrots Of Telegraph Hill runs a little dry. The bird footage, all shot on film, looks beautiful, but Irving's love of nature outweighs her feel for people. Still, the movie winds its way artfully from a straight animal study to something more profound. It's hard to shake the film's astonishing final thoughts and shots, as Bittner nervously contemplates parrot eggs while hawks circle overhead.

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