Evan D. As a project this year we are taking a trip through time to revisit all of the Best Picture winners in history, Wings to Anora. Rebecca is the thirteenth film in that series, to see all the other Best Picture reviews, click here. When looking back at the greatest directors in the history of film, it does not take too long to reach the name Alfred Hitchcock. From Psycho to Vertigo to Rear Window, Hitchcock’s filmography still echos into the culture of today. It is interesting then that the great English filmmaker only ever directed one film to a Best Picture win, 1940’s adaptation of a Daphne du Maurier novel of the same name, Rebecca.
While in Monte Carlo an unnamed young woman (Joan Fontaine,) the paid companion of an aging socialite, meets and falls for the wealthy widower Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier.) A whirlwind romance leads to a proposal and the new Mrs. de Winter is whisked off to Maxim’s colossal estate at Manderley. Joyousness soon turn dour as the young Mrs. de Winter finds her new home to haunted by the memory of Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter. Although the title character is never shown on screen, her shadow looms over Manderley, weighing on the spirits of Maxim and his new wife. Whispers circulate the hallways of Rebecca’s otherworldly beauty and uncanny wit. Adored by the staff, her room is kept exactly as it was the day of her mysterious and untimely death. No specter stalks the halls of Manderley but Hitchcock’s film is undeniably a ghost story. As with Hitchcock’s more well known later fare, little in Rebecca is what it seems. The story begins as romance before contorting itself into light horror and then again into something else entirely. Light on any real scares, Hitchcock uses light, shadow and framing to create an overwhelming sense of unease that mirrors the internal struggle Mrs. de Winter faces in a cavernous estate that, despite its size, still lacks any space for her. The acclaimed director would go on to perfect the art of suspense on screen yet even this earlier effort shows his masterful command of tone. Performance contributes a great deal to this portrait of a couple on the edge as well. Olivier’s Maxim is mercurial and impulsive, complicating Mrs. de Winter’s attempts to draw closer to him. Despite his fits of anger and melancholy he employs a sort of stately charm that keeps the character afloat. Fontaine too dose impressive work, imbuing the second Mrs. de Winter with a sincere desperation for an identity beyond that of her new husband and his old wife. She is cautious and skittish for most of the film, deeply burdened by the echo of her predecessor but in a final act twist Fontaine brings a new intensity and her unnamed protagonist comes to life. Looking back at Rebecca with modern sensibilities, it does hold up quite well. The burden of outside expectation can be intense and Mrs. de Winter’s quest to be the person she thinks others expect of her is quite relatable. As is the case with just about any Hitchcock film, the choices in direction feel shockingly modern as well. Such can be expected for someone who serves as inspiration to so many filmmakers today, but the experience of watching Rebecca is incredibly satisfying. Hitchcock’s legacy goes far beyond awards recognition, of which he also got plenty, but it is still surprising to think that his films won just a single Best Picture on only four nominations. Worse still is his lack of wins for direction on 5 nominations. Few would likely cite Rebecca as his defining achievement but that also goes to show just how impressive a career he had. Rebecca is tremendous and thrilling storytelling and one of the very best of the first couple decades of Oscar winners. 9/10
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