Rebecca tells the story of an unnamed young woman, played by
Joan Fontaine, who while vacationing with her employer in the south
of France, falls in love with a wealthy widower, Maxim de Winter, played
by Sir Laurence Olivier. At the close of the brief vacation, he asks
her to marry him, and she moves with him to his sprawling, isolated
country estate.
As soon as she moves in, she must compete with the memory of the dead
wife, Rebecca, whose monogrammed belongings are everywhere, her presence
felt in practically every room. This omnipresence is compounded by the
fact that Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson), who was Rebecca's personal
maid, wastes no opportunity to compare the new bride to the first Mrs.
de Winter.
It's a credit to Hitchcock's directing that he makes a relatively uneventful
tale so engrossing. He does this, in part, through his use of subjective
cameras angles, one of his trademark techniques. We often see the action
through the point of view of the new Mrs. de Winter. Even though she
might be standing in a luxurious room, in broad daylight with the windows
open, the camera zooms in obsessively on all the monogrammed items belonging
to the former mistress, mimicking the uncertainty and rising anxiety
of the young bride.
In the beginning of the movie, Joan Fontaine, who is the younger sister
of Olivia de Havilland, reminded me very much of Scarlett Johansson,
with her naturalistic portrayal of a young personal assistant who is
at times unsure of herself, and at others giddily optimistic. As the
movie proceeds, her performance gets increasingly more pained, so that
she seems to be literally at the point of breaking.
Sir Laurence Olivier as Maxim de Winter is, by contrast, reserved,
taciturn, almost icy in his demeanor. He is frequently self-absorbed,
and his young bride is certain he must be sunk in thoughts about his
dead wife.
Equally well cast is Judith Anderson as Mrs. Danvers. Although she's
not a very imposing figure, having a petite figure, she seems the very
embodiment of malice. In a way, she becomes the living embodiment of
the dead wife, ensuring that her memory persists.
Rebecca shows why Hitchcock was regarded as such a master. He
could take a very simple story and imbue it with emotion, so that the
viewer is intrigued. Nothing in a shot is accidental: he thought about
everything, and those little details are a joy to discover on repeated
viewings.
That's the difference between Hitchcock and a modern director like
M. Night Shyamalan. His undisputed best movie, The Sixth Sense, worked
because viewers were interested in the story, not suspecting there was
a twist at the end. In Shyamalan's other films, by comparison, he engages
in sort of sleight of hand, where the viewer anticipates a twist. When
the secret is finally revealed, the viewer is frequently disappointed,
because nothing could compare to being genuinely surprised.
Hitchcock, however, didn't waste time with such tricks. Viewers might
suspect that secrets will be revealed, but they get so involved in the
story that, by the time the veil is lifted, the viewer may have forgotten
they were trying to figure it out. Hitchcock focused on telling the
story: telling it intensely and personally, but never sacrificing sense
for shock value.
I am a big Hitchcock fan and have seen many of his classic films. I
had viewed this movie years ago and had forgotten it to such a degree
that it was like watching it for the first time. Only the haunting unease
of the movie had stayed with me in my memory.
Unfortunately, Rebecca is currently out of print on DVD. If
you want to watch it and don't already own it, you'll have to search
Amazon.com or eBay for used VHS copies. I would caution against buying
any new DVDs, unless you're certain it's not pirated.
If, like me, you are a Hitchcock fan and you haven't yet seen Rebecca,
put it on your list of movies to watch. While Rebecca lacks
the action-packed thrills of North by Northwest and the heavy-duty
drama of Vertigo, this quieter tale is nonetheless a master work.
Rating (out of 5): ****
Musings
on Best Picture Winners
