Ben Wheatley remakes Daphne du Maurier’s 1938 best-selling gothic romance Rebecca with a Hollywood, shiny flare – typical of Netflix adaptions – but to what extent does this charming iteration stay true to the chilling classic novel?
Meeting in the amorous French Riveria, Mrs. de Winter (Lily James) and recently widowed Maxim de Winter (Armie Hammer) conform to the “country of love” and swiftly marry – retiring to Maxim’s imposing family estate on the coast of Cornwall. Here, Mrs. de Winter is tormented by the shadow of Maxim’s first wife Rebecca, whose presence is ever so preserved by the sinister Housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas).
In the same way Mrs. de Winter is eclipsed by Rebecca’s legacy, Wheatley’s adaptation is shadowed by Hitchcock’s Best Picture winning 1940s rework of the same title, giving a sense of déjà vu as we revisit Manderley again.
Wheatley has plucked 2020s finest stars – James and Hammer – in order to distort the classic to an Instagram-worthy standard, with a magnetic cast portraying the most superficial reading of the story. At face value, Wheatley’s Rebecca is a passive, enjoyable watch, embracing the camp shimmer of the haunting tale of wealth and obsession, inviting the spectator into a saturated, pale world of inter-war Britain’s elites, while seemingly retaining a distinct distance to Rebecca’s gritty, suspenseful plot that is at the heart of the original text.
To put it simply, Wheatley’s Rebecca is not a cinematic failure, and certainly passable to the average viewer, however to any avid literature and gothic film fan, it is a misfired romance that strays from the renowned standard du Maurier perfected and Hitchcock then mastered.
Image credit: The Medium
It would be unfair to expect Wheatley’s adaptation to emulate Hitchcock’s, or any of the small handful of Rebecca adaptations, and in this regard, I would personally define it as ‘Rebecca 2.0’ – a millennial, shiny response, with nothing radical in this retelling.
A first criticism of Rebecca is Hammer’s Maxim de Winter; his performance is tolerable and respectful to the original character; however, his casting is categorically wrong. Hammer lacks the stern charm of 42-year-old Maxim and is notably a young remodeling. This is most likely due to Netflix’s glamourization and generous budget as an attempt to push Rebecca towards a wider demographic, whilst competing with the Hollywood paradigm that millennials believable crave – yet this appears as dismally distasteful as Hammer’s mustard yellow suit.
Alongside this, Rebecca is almost futile as a reboot and offers no updated message that Wheatley had so much potential to implicate. The subplot of Mrs. Danvers’ infatuation for the late Rebecca is lost to an antagonistic, hostile retelling, that falls in line with the typical Hollywood narrative of good against bad as subjugation to love, and forgetting the underlying, possibly homoerotic motive to Mrs. Danvers’ actions. If the film is to be modernized, shouldn’t the societal issues of lust, adultery and sex that are acceptably explored due to the artistic freedom of 2020 take some precedence over the same, repetitive love stories that Hollywood spawns daily?
Despite this, Rebecca’s raison d’etre is Thomas’ performance, which encapsulates the cold, stiff demeanor of Manderley’s horrid Housekeeper – Mrs. Danvers – as she flawlessly plays the psychologically tormenting maestro of manipulation.
In all its flaws of failing to match its predeceasing adaptations, Wheatley’s lustrous retelling of Rebecca must be praised for its glimmering aesthetics that exemplify the artistry of cinematography. The beginning, sunny setting of Monte Carlo, in all its saturated colour and bright tones beautifully compliments the whimsical romance blossoming between the protagonists. Each shot is purposely crafted to Wheatley’s acclaimed auteur (seen in High Rise and Free Fire).
Therefore, it would be a lie to say that Rebecca is a poorly made film- I found it an enjoyable pleasant watch and certainly something for any hopeless romantic to engage with. On the other hand, as a literature-lover and fan of the original novel, Wheatley’s attempt fell short of the Gothic substance that drove the novel, substituting the nitty-gritty, suspense for a polished, over-dressed flick that does not dignify du Maurier’s work and definitely will not outlive Hitchcock’s 1940s adaptation.
By Alicia Ward
Feature image: Medium