I studied Hitchcock a little bit at University and knew the

Host: The café was dimly lit, a quiet comfort in the midst of the city’s evening bustle. The light from the overhead lamps cast soft shadows across the tables, and the gentle hum of the city outside barely filtered through the windows. Jack and Jeeny sat together, sipping their drinks in comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air.

After a moment, Jeeny looked up, breaking the stillness with a thoughtful expression.

Jeeny: “I came across something from Toby Jones today. He said, ‘I studied Hitchcock a little bit at University and knew the famous story about the Birds—that he’d tortured Tippi for a day using real birds. I had no idea that it was a five-day onslaught and that it was the tip of an iceberg that carried on through to another film.’ What do you think about that?”

Jack: He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the reference but unsure how to fully engage with it. “Hitchcock, huh? That’s intense. Torturing an actress with real birds for five days... sounds like a director who took method acting a little too far. But, I get it—Hitchcock was about pushing boundaries, creating real fear for the audience. But at what cost? What kind of relationship is built on that kind of treatment?”

Host: The quiet of the café wrapped around them, the sounds of the world outside softened by the weight of their conversation. Jeeny’s expression remained steady, her voice calm but carrying a quiet challenge.

Jeeny: “I think it shows something about the extreme lengths some directors will go to for the sake of their art, Jack. Hitchcock was a perfectionist, and he believed that the fear the audience felt should be real. But the way he treated Tippi Hedren—pushing her to her limit—raises a lot of questions about the ethics of art and how far you can go for the sake of performance. How much is too much?”

Jack: “It’s hard to imagine anyone today doing something like that. Pushing someone to the brink for the sake of realism, for the shock value—it feels almost like exploitation. How much of that is justified in the name of art? It feels like abuse, not artistry.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Art, especially in cinema, is about creating an experience, but at what cost to the people involved in the making of it? Hitchcock’s approach wasn’t just about immersing his actors in the role; it was about manipulating them, treating them as tools to achieve the desired effect. And that’s where the line gets blurry—how much manipulation is too much? What happens when the director’s obsession with the end result sacrifices the well-being of the people involved?”

Jack: “But I guess that’s the challenge of art, right? The tension between the creative vision and the human cost. Can you make something meaningful without crossing boundaries? Or is it that the greatest works of art are born from the extremes—the risks, the pushing of limits?”

Host: The rain outside had picked up again, the steady tap against the windows providing a rhythmic backdrop to their words. Jeeny’s expression softened, her voice steady but filled with something deeper as she responded.

Jeeny: “Maybe the question isn’t whether great art comes from extremes, but whether we value the people creating it enough to care about their well-being. Pushing limits is one thing, but it shouldn’t come at the expense of someone’s mental or emotional health. Art can be powerful without breaking someone down. True greatness comes when both the work and the people involved can stand the test of time—without the need for harm.”

Jack: “So, you’re saying the cost shouldn’t be measured in terms of what’s sacrificed by the people creating it?”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Great art doesn’t need to come with a price tag of pain or manipulation. It can be meaningful and authentic without pushing people to their breaking point. And we have to acknowledge the difference between going to extremes for the sake of a scene and crossing a line that dehumanizes the people involved.”

Host: The café, once again, seemed still, the weight of their words hanging between them like an unspoken truth. The world outside had softened, and inside, Jack and Jeeny found themselves grappling with a difficult reality: the tension between art and its human cost, between pushing boundaries for the sake of creativity and respecting the well-being of those who bring that creativity to life. It was clear now that the greatest works of art could—and should—be made without sacrificing the humanity of the people involved.