Rebecca

The 1938 gothic novel, Rebecca, written by English author Daphne du Maurier, followed the story of a young woman marrying into the life of a wealthy widower only to discover that his past wife (who tragically died in an accident) still plagues him and the servants of his manor, putting an impossible-to-overcome standard on her shoulders which starts to eat her alive. It was a bestseller that sold over 2.8 million copies between 1938 and 1965 and was adapted several times for the stage and for the screen, including a 1939 play handled by du Maurier herself. Another famous rendition was brought to life in 1940 by famed director, Alfred Hitchcock and it was an extremely successful version, receiving critical and commercial acclaim, and was even the frontrunner at the year’s Academy Awards, even managing to win Best Picture (being the first and only Hitchcock film ever awarded that prestige). Even if it isn’t as highly recognized as his other iconic pictures, its win quickly cemented Rebecca as one of his most impactful.

While working as a companion for a rich older American woman (not that kind of companion, at least on the surface), a young and naïve unnamed woman in her early twenties (played by Joan Fontaine) finds herself surprisingly enamoured by the debonair, aristocratic, and recently widowed Maxim de Winter (played by Laurence Olivier) who also seems to take a fancy to her and inexplicably asks her to marry him (in a very demeaning way, but it was the 40s, so…). Once they wed and she adopts the new name of Mrs. de Winter, the two arrive at their home estate of Manderley, which is full of various servants and helpers who tend to every demand of the Winter family. However, while growing accustom to the new lifestyle, the new Mrs. de Winter can’t help but feel the shadow of the past Mrs. de Winter (named Rebecca) looming over her at every second, whether through her husband’s random outburst whenever she is mentioned, to the domineering attitude she receives from the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers (played by Judith Anderson) who was Rebecca’s confidante (and seemingly romantic fling), and the various pieces of memorabilia containing her initials plastered all around the house. With no answers about her mysterious death and now slowly going insane due to the constant eyes judging her at every second (including from her own husband), this new Mrs. de Winter must discover what happened to the previous so that she can no longer have her presence haunting her and possibly escape the same gruesome fate.

This 1940 film would not be the last time this story would be turned into a feature (with a Netflix film starring Lily James and Armie Hammer being released in 2020), but it remains as the only one that truly left an impression on its audience. While it does stumble in certain areas and seems a little abnormal as a Hitchcock picture, the timeless themes, memorable acting, and stand out production value does make it one that is worth a watch.

The story for the novel has a lot of great qualities that makes for a strong and timeless gothic story. Based on aspects of the author’s real-life feelings of jealously for her husband’s past wife, the tale is dripping with dark undertones, moody and unpleasant atmosphere, and a subject matter that could easily be supernatural yet is made even creepier when it’s stuck within the realism of feasible reality. The script by Robert E. Sherwood and Joan Harrison is very clever in laying the groundwork for this mystery, where the first act could pass as a straightforward romance about two people finding love after a tragic incident, but as the film keeps going and once it transitions to living in this very gothic mansion, it becomes more psychological, slow-moving, intricate in its production design and cinematography, and presents a situation where the black and white nature it was previously presenting itself to have, isn’t what it’s going to be as it continues. The underlying themes of jealousy, overwhelming pressure, and the horrible situation of a new spouse struggling with living up to the seemingly untouchable pedestal of another (especially with various others constantly talking and praising her) are explored in detail through the film’s visuals, acting and atmosphere.  It makes for a great first and second act, and the build-up surrounding the mystery of Rebecca when in tandem with the distant and often out-bursting Maxim provides for a great creepy unknown factor that leads to a great twist around the final act.

The problem comes from two aspects surrounding how the story is told, and one bizarrely is the choice of director. Alfred Hitchcock has proven time and time again that he is a very talented director and has been attached to several projects with several different genres, but this film shows he’s definitely more comfortable in directing a suspense thriller than a gothic thriller. The movie is often times overly lit, the soundtrack can be a little too pronounced and ill-fitting for the situation, the actors can act appropriately at times but in others act a little too cleanly, and the pace and unfolding of the story feels too much like it’s rooted in a crime thriller atmosphere (which is more based on information and step-by-step understandings), than the more emotionally raw and vague assumption-based personalities of a gothic story. This final point does in fairness come from the other issue with the story, that being the film’s ending. Without giving much away, the twist for the final act (while effective and legitimately surprising) does take the story in a whole new direction from its original source (with these altercations from the book coming from Phillip MacDonald and Michael Hogan) which isn’t as fun or as engaging, and takes what was once an open-ended and unclear plot that felt in line with a usual gothic story of the times, and makes it more clean-cut and blandly obvious.

Most of the characters feel like traditional gothic roles, with the female lead being unassuming and ignorant to the terror she’s about to experience, the male love interest who carries a heavy burden and a haunting past he wants kept hidden, and side characters who range from nuggets of normalcy who off-set the strange mood, or cryptic weirdos who add to the bizarre environment. These archetypes are well portrayed, bring that nice balance of believability but also that twinge of creepiness to keep things interesting, and the acting from almost everybody is pretty solid. It was a clever idea in the original story (and in turn the movie) to make the lead character nameless to really drive the point across of how inadequate she feels and how much of an identity crisis is being formed when being compared to someone who came before you (especially when you have now taken their literal title and name).

Joan Fontaine portrays this part beautifully, bringing that typical every-girl feel during the opening act before showcasing a spiralling frantic side that’s constantly trying to keep things together in a place that feels out to get her in the latter two acts. Judith Anderson is also incredibly effective as Mrs. Danvers, with her cold steely glares and dead pan but demeaning attitude and delivery, making for a wonderfully elusive yet memorable character even if her conclusion is a little much (even a slight hint of being gay back then meant you were evil and had to die). Other supporting actors like Gladys Cooper, Florence Bates and George Sanders bring a lot of personality to their bit parts and help make this film with a surprisingly small cast of leading roles, feel a bit more packed. Laurence Olivier is sadly not very interesting as Maxim however, despite there being a lot there to make him interesting. He occasionally gives a great stare that is distinctly unnerving (particularly in a scene involving video slides), but otherwise it’s a very straightforward performance that anybody else could’ve pulled off in a similar manner.

The aesthetics and production design of a gothic story is very crucial for capturing the correct spirit and atmosphere of what the material is trying to convey, and this movie manages that quite well, just in a slightly lessened manner. Even from the opening shot, you can tell they have an idea of how to portray this kind of story through the cryptic and poetic narration and a first-person camera perspective leading the audience through a rundown, creepy forest until finally reaching a mansion that’s right out of a ghost story, it feels like the pieces are all there to make this work, but there are other touches added onto that just don’t match the vibe.

From the weirdly chipper delivery of the narration, the camera trickery being paced a little too fast to be unnerving, and the musical score by Franz Waxman feeling a little too much like a generic upbeat piece of the time that doesn’t correlate with the tone the film should be going for, it just doesn’t fit with what the material and genre requires. Even if there are aspects that don’t feel entirely accurate, there are still plenty of things that this film nails in terms of delivering on a creepy atmosphere, and the set is one such quality. Manderley as a location is prime for a gothic setting and the interior is wonderfully ornate and fancily constructed thanks to the work of Lyle R. Wheeler, Joseph B. Platt and Howard Bristol, to the point where you actively want to look around it while also being afraid of what you’ll find. This is also assisted through the cinematography by George Barnes (who also won an Oscar for his work on this movie), which displays the size and presence of this place very well, showing how someone can very easily feel small and threatened in such an overwhelming abode.

Rebecca is a good film that clearly does its source material source justice, transitioning between mediums in a very effective manner by being one of the most critically well received movies of the year. Sadly, it does feel like it could’ve been so much more than what it delivers (in both mediums), and it leaves some things to be desired which keeps it from being the trailblazer that it’s been build up to be. Other gothic stories have tackled more complex ideas and followed through on their tones and content in a much stronger manner, which leaves this film feeling like it could benefit from a remake or a tv adaptation to take it in a new direction and bring out its full potential (although the 2020 Netflix film seems to carry its own unique flaws, so a redo isn’t going to automatically improve things). The acting is strong, the premise is very good, the production is mostly well handled, and it’s a timeless tale with themes that are relevant to any time period, but its weak and uninteresting final act, ill-fitting direction and not being quite as gothic as it could be, leaves it ironically living in the shadow of its own brilliance.