Entertainment
Netflix’s Rebecca, with its stunning visuals and striking cast, is captivating enough to enjoy even without sound. Before I watched, I had no clue who Max Green was, but he has that Ken doll vibe—apparently he’s quite popular? (Apologies; I’m gay.) His love interest in the film, Emma Johnson, resembles a blend of January Jones and Emilia Clarke. There’s so much eye candy here.
However, that’s not the main reason I suggest you check out this film—ideally with a friend or partner. The real draw of Rebecca lies in its fascinating backstory that’s ripe for discussion (hence the movie-watching companion). This flick is tailor-made for cinema enthusiasts.
Plot Overview
A naive young woman from a modest background falls for the dashing aristocrat Maxim de Winter. After a whirlwind romance, they marry and move to his grand seaside estate, Manderly. Upon arrival, she encounters the cold Mrs. Danvers, the devoted housekeeper and former assistant to the late Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca. The memory of Rebecca looms large over the estate, and whispers surround the tragic incident that led to her demise, supposedly to protect Mr. de Winter’s feelings. With her charm, fearlessness, and popularity, Rebecca is an irreplaceable figure. As the new Mrs. de Winter settles into her life, her husband’s emotional distance grows, and she begins to uncover the deeper secrets of their story.
I entered Rebecca without any prior context, and my first thought was, “That was lovely! It felt like a cleverly twisted novel!” But I had questions: How could this so-called “lady’s companion” afford such exquisite outfits? What draws her to Maxim besides his wealth? (Because unless his convertible counts for something, he has zero personality.) Does the main character have a name? Why is it never mentioned? Am I supposed to root for her to get away with murder?
In pursuit of answers, I hit Google. First off, I learned that Rebecca is actually a novel authored by Daphne du Maurier. When it debuted in 1938, it was an instant hit, prompting producers to scramble for the film rights. The insights I gained about Rebecca are precisely why I recommend both adaptations and the book for a movie night with fellow film lovers.
Rebecca marked Alfred Hitchcock’s first directing venture in the U.S. and remains his only film to win the Academy Award for Best Picture. However, Hitchcock later distanced himself from the project due to frustrations with the stringent censorship rules that required significant alterations to dialogue and visuals. The Hays Code, a set of strict moral guidelines governing American cinema from 1934 to 1968, heavily influenced the film.
This provides an interesting contrast when comparing Hitchcock’s 1940 version to Ben Wheatley’s 2020 remake. The original faced numerous censorship issues regarding “sexual perversion” and graphic violence. In the novel, Rebecca dies from a gunshot wound, but Hitchcock’s adaptation softened her death into an accident due to Hays Code restrictions, fundamentally altering the story’s dynamics.
And here’s a fun tidbit I completely overlooked: Mrs. Danvers, the ominous housekeeper, likely harbored romantic feelings for the late Rebecca. I initially interpreted her obsession as mere loyalty. Duh. In both films, there’s a moment where she fondly recalls Rebecca’s wardrobe and reminisces about brushing her hair, even holding up a sheer negligee to highlight its transparency.
Critics have not been kind to the remake; major outlets like The New York Times and NPR have been particularly harsh. I must admit, I, with my modern tastes, favored Hitchcock’s black-and-white classic over the updated version that had every modern technological advantage. The unnamed protagonist feels more timid and insecure in the novel, Mr. de Winter appears moodier, and Mrs. Danvers is creepier with a more pronounced vindictiveness. Most of the dialogue from the original also resonated better with me.
That said, I did enjoy the remake. My appreciation deepened when I discovered the rich history behind the movie, including the intriguing hidden queer themes that invite analysis.
So, grab a mountain of popcorn, snuggle into your favorite chair with a fellow film aficionado, and enjoy a couple of movies, a book, and perhaps a dive into the history of Hollywood’s censorship regarding sexuality, violence, and queerness. Happy watching!
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