Rating: B+
It’s tempting to try and hold up Ben Wheatley’s adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca in comparison to Alfred Hitchcock’s legendary 1940 adaptation. Academically, it’s a fun exercise. The nerd in me loves comparing how two wildly different directors working in completely different eras approach the same subject matter. It’s a great way to understand the lexicon of cinema and, to be sure, you could do a whole lot worse than studying the work of the suspense master. And certainly any comparison between Hitchcock and anyone else would absolutely lead one to the conclusion that Hitchcock did it better. That’s for sure the case with Rebecca.
But so what?
Comparing anyone to Hitchcock, a director of such esteem that his name is now an adjective, would be like comparing bank accounts between you and Jeff Bezos or playing one on one with LeBron James. Doesn’t matter how good you are, you’re out of your league. So making the comparison, tempting as it might be, is fruitless to the point of absurdity. It’s best not to even think about it.
Wheatley certainly hasn’t, and it’s to the benefit of his vision of Rebecca. Rather than try to compete with Hitchcock, he does his own thing, resulting in a film that’s true to du Maurier’s novel and a compelling take on this classic of gothic romance.
Lily James stars as the famously unnamed new wife of Maxim de Winter (Armie Hammer) who, after a whirlwind romance in Monte Carlo, is brought back to de Winter’s palatial estate of Manderley. Once there, she finds herself unable to deal with the looming presence of de Winter’s first wife, Rebecca, who died under mysterious circumstances. Haunted both by the memory of the former Lady of the House and the sinister housekeeper Mrs. Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas), the new Madam de Winter is thrust into the mystery of Rebecca’s death.
James is magnificent in Wheatley’s take, perfectly embodying her slow descent into madness at the machinations of Mrs. Danvers. Wheatley amps up the pressure in small doses, letting us see first-hand the weight of microaggressions as they build and build. The psychological walls close in on her bit by bit, leaving her nowhere to turn as the situation becomes more and more dire. The emotive presence of James makes this slow walk to insanity that much more difficult to take and heartbreaking to endure.
So, too, with Hammer’s aloof detachment. Anyone who has read the book knows that de Winter has a few secrets of his own, which only adds to his new wife’s increasing sense of isolation. He’s quick to temper and so secretive that his wife has precious little room to maneuver the rules of her entirely new world. Thomas, for her part, is absolutely haunting as Mrs. Danvers. Her cruelty and gaslighting are horrific, and Thomas plays her role with a wicked relish that re-establishes the character as one of the most malevolent ever created.
Wheatley, working off of a script from writers Jane Goldman (Kingsman: The Golden Circle), Joe Shrapnel (Seberg), and Anna Waterhouse (Seberg), pays beautiful reverence to du Maurier’s novel, moving beat by beat through the plot of the book with few deviations. For fans of the novel, that reverence only makes it worse to watch. Knowing what’s coming up for the new Madam de Winter makes it harder to stomach as the abuse and gaslighting ramp up—I squirmed knowing the costume ball was coming—and Wheatley plays off what we already know to tighten his screws bit by bit.
While there are some melodramatics added to the climactic build up to Rebecca, Wheatley has produced a fair and faithful adaptation of the du Maurier classic that’s perfect for modern audiences. Standing, as it is, in the shadow of Hitchcock, this version of Rebecca does well to stand on its own and deliver new viewers a frightening update of this literary classic, the story of which is as effective today as it was when du Maurier first published it in 1938.
Rebecca is now available on Netflix.
