Alfred Hitchcock’s first Hollywood film, “Rebecca” (1940), is about a newlywed who feels powerless and overwhelmed – and is even unnamed in the screenplay – as she adjusts from blue-collar life to wife of a rich man with many servants. As she tries to adjust, so did Hitchcock, who learned to cultivate an “auteur” image despite working with producer David O. Selznick, who had the auteur stamp from “Gone with the Wind” (1939).
Watched today, “Rebecca” takes us back to what could be an intense era for women. Joan Fontaine’s 20-ish character has no living family, and she feels lucky to be the paid companion (all-purpose assistant) to the brash but occasionally kind Mrs. Van Hopper (Florence Bates).
When Laurence Olivier’s 30-something Maxim de Winter – a widowed aristocrat who lives at the coastal mansion called Manderley – shows interest in her, she leaps at the no-brainer life-changer. “Rebecca” then explores how when everything is provided for you, and all your days are leisurely, that doesn’t necessarily breed contentment.
“Rebecca” (1940)
Director: Alfred Hitchcock
Writers: Robert E. Sherwood, Joan Harrison (screenplay); Daphne Du Maurier (novel)
Stars: Laurence Olivier, Joan Fontaine, George Sanders
Waxing poetic via the score
Although “Rebecca” is over 2 hours long and does not have a layered plot, it’s never boring. Franz Waxman’s ever-present music is such that this could play as a silent picture, and George Barnes rightly won the Oscar for best black-and-white cinematography as his lens soaks up the right amount of Pacific coastal fog.
(Although shot in California, it’s never stated where Manderley is located. Daphne du Maurier’s novel is set in Britain, Olivier is British and I get the sense that Manderley is a Victorian mansion like you’d find in an Agatha Christie novel of the time. So although this is Hitch’s first Hollywood film, some scholars like to say his following film, “Foreign Correspondent,” is his first to tackle American themes.)
Still, I give MVP status to Fontaine, always the POV character. She’s facially expressive to a degree that would impress Jim Carrey, yet heartbreakingly real. Often Hitchcock holds on her reactions rather than focusing on the person talking. Olivier generously gives a subdued performance that allows for multiple emotional readings, which is important for when Maxim reveals a point that goes against our assumptions.
Judith Anderson provides even more subtle menace as the Frau Blucher-esque Mrs. Danvers, Manderley’s head staffer who is available at the new Mrs. de Winter’s whim yet psychologically dominates the new bride. Although “Rebecca” is the story of a woman feeling lesser than the titular deceased woman she is “replacing” – a theme laid on thick with the monogram R’s all over the house — Hitchcock makes it more universal.
Fontaine portrays an unsureness that most people can relate to from their first day of a class, first day at a new job, or first day in a new town. If no one is there to make you comfortable, it can be a challenge even to those of the strongest mental fortitude. In a memorable scene, the bride says “I’m Mrs. de Winter now” to Mrs. Danvers; but it’s still an internal battle to believe her own words – to become a respected, substantial person.
The foggy question of happiness
Through this romance (“whirlwind” even in that era), “Rebecca” also examines the question of happiness. The de Winters are happy by definition, but do they feel happy? They love each other by definition, but do they really love each other?
Interestingly, there’s no trickery to either of these questions, nor is any subterfuge suggested to the viewer. Maxim truly does adore his bride (as we do), and she truly does want to get something out of life and loves Maxim for giving her the opportunity. (This was a time when marriage represented a golden ticket for lower-class women to move up in station.)
(SPOILERS FOLLOW.)
Interestingly, the seemingly strong Maxim can relate to his wife’s lack of self-definition. We learn via the key boathouse monolog that he was not happy with Rebecca, and that Rebecca was narcissistic – with “one hand in her pocket, and the other one smoking a cigarette,” as Alanis Morissette would reiterate. Upper-class societal pressure meant he had to stay married for appearances, even though she ruined his emotional life. It’s fascinating how Rebecca gets built up as a character at the same rate as the two leads despite never appearing on screen.
The final act shows what we’d later think of as Hitchcockian suspense, as the borderline-happy couple is hit with outside threats to their marriage that actually might strengthen it. This is also where the film wavers slightly, because Maxim’s legal fate is up in the air, and Fontaine is off screen more than ever before.
Still, Fontaine’s sympathetic turn – always backed by Waxman’s sweeping, vaguely tragic score – does dominate the film. She steals the show so much that I think “Rebecca” gets artificially knocked down a bit on Hitchcock ranking lists (even though it’s documented that his coaching helped the performance). If not his “best” masterpiece, though, a case can be made that “Rebecca” is his first masterpiece.
RFMC’s Alfred Hitchcock series reviews works by the Master of Suspense, plus remakes and source material. Click here to visit our Hitchcock Zone.