British writer Daphne du Maurier is well known, but I've never read any of her stories. Last night, however, I watched Alfred Hitchcock's 1940 adaptation of Rebecca, the sixth in the current Seattle Art Museum's Hitchcock film series.
According to a Variety review at the time, the film was "too tragic and deeply psychological to hit the fancy of wide audience appeal." But the film received eleven Academy Award nominations, and was awarded Oscars for Best Picture and Best Black and White Cinematography. In the current SAM series, Rebecca is the earliest Hitchcock film to be produced by an American studio, although it retains a British setting in Cornwall.
I have no idea whether the shift from a British to an American studio accounts for the difference, but the production values are vastly more sophisticated than in the earlier films in the series. For those unfamiliar with the film, or the 1997 TV adaptation of the novel, aristocrat Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier) meets a naïve young woman (Joan Fontaine) in Monte Carlo, sweeps her off her feet, marries her on the spot, and takes her to his home ("Manderley") in Cornwall. The house -- both exterior and interior -- is breathtaking -- a neo-Gothic take on Brideshead. Typical American film-making -- no expense appears to have been spared.
The young woman -- referred to only as the "second Mrs. de Winter" -- is intimidated, both by the house and by its enormous staff, as well might she be. She quickly learns that Rebecca -- the first Mrs. de Winter -- was a famous beauty highly respected by all. She encounters the frigid hostility of the housekeeper -- Mrs. Danvers -- who apparently not only was devoted to Rebecca, but had somewhat deeper feelings for her, as well. (Hitchcock made several adjustments to the script to get the movie past the censors, but managed to supply the lesbian overtones through Mrs. Danvers's acting, facial expressions, and voice.)
How did Rebecca die? She may or may not have been murdered, may or may not have committed suicide. Or something else. The last third of the movie becomes a whodunit, made unnecessarily complicated, again, because of the censors' objections to elements of the plot as written by du Maurier. The inquest scenes are interesting, even if the plot's resolution seems to come somewhat out of the blue.
All quibbles are forgiven, however, upon viewing the magnificent final scene, as Mrs. Danvers wanders about the house, setting it on fire -- it made me think of Lucia di Lammermoor without the singing -- and the entire Gothic pile, fully engulfed in flames, comes crashing down upon her.
It's ok. No one really liked her. Pity about the house, however.
No comments:
Post a Comment