I keep waiting for updates on the bizarre, unprecedented disaster of the Rebecca musical adaptation. Phantom donors? Lost millions? Shady middlemen? Deception? It's a mystery at Manderley, darlings! Those setbacks sound like the handiwork of the Rebecca movie's own villain, the sinister housekeeper Mrs. Danvers. I picture her pocketing the donation checks in the late Rebecca's underwear drawer. And then sniffing them.
This brings us to my new candidate for Best Movie Ever, the glorious and melodramatic-as-a-garbage-can-fire-at-Faye-Dunaway's-house Hitchcock classic Rebecca. God, is it good. And nutty. And poor Joan Fontaine's face is stuck in perpetual mid-whimper for the entire 130 minutes. I can't claim it's my favorite Hitch classic (that'd be Rear Window), but it's the Master of Suspense's only Best Picture winner and one of his spookiest, grandest affairs.
Based on Daphne du Maurier's novel, Rebecca is about a nervous lass' (Joan Fontaine) marriage to the HOLY HOT AS HELL aristocrat Maxim de Winter (Laurence "The Only Moustache Worth Loving" Olivier), who is reportedly not over the untimely death of his first wife Rebecca. When that nervous lass moves into Manderley, Maxim's lush estate, she finds she's treated only as The Second Mrs. De Winter, a schlubby substitute for the gorgeous and unknowable Rebecca. Her journey to please Maxim while fighting her way out of Rebecca's shadow is compelling and eerie. And also, funny as hell. Because meek little Joan just can't catch a break at Manderely thanks to the, uh, AUSTERE AND HORRIFYING Mrs. Danvers (Dame Judith Anderson), who is -- shall we say -- attached to the memory of Rebecca and, perhaps, her successor's destruction. I have the chills, and I'm also laughing. I love, love, love when a campy drama is both ridiculous and effective. That's the best. Imagine if Black Swan worked. That's what I'm talking about.
Here are five other reasons Rebecca just may be the Best Movie Ever.
1. Joan Fontaine could be the best-cast lead in a Hitchcock movie.
Let's talk about Joan Fontaine's character, the unnamed protagonist who is not-so-affectionately deemed The Second Mrs. De Winter. She's a smart but cautious, extra-worried woman who enters a life of Jane Austen-ian glamor and feels coerced into replacing a beloved beaut. I know what you're thinking: This is just like when Kara DioGuardi joined American Idol. Stop rubbing Simon's chest and making googly eyes at the tanned male contestants, Kara! You're not Lady Paula Abdul of Skat Kat Manor.
The role of The Second Mrs. De Winter requires an unassuming but likable presence. A standard, symmetrical attractiveness that can be dolled up into beauty worthy of the devilishly attractive Maxim. It requires January Jones, basically. But Joan Fontaine is perfect here, because although insecurity is her character's defining attribute, she's never unappealing or uncharismatic. She's doing the hard work of carrying this gigantic, decadent film using crybaby faces and throat clearing. It's the best kind of Old Hollywood acting -- melodramatic mugging that feels justified. And I love when she starts to gain confidence, even as Mrs. Danvers manipulates her into horrifying Maxim by wearing one of Rebecca's old gowns.
This role could've gone wrong in plenty of ways. How I do know? Check out Vivien Leigh's screen test for the same part. Though she's Olivier's lady, her stunning presence and self-conscious I AM VIVIEN LEIGH, MORTALS-ness obscures the part's vulnerability. She's shooting thunderbolts out of her eyes when she needs to be making stuttery lamb noises. She's Blanche Dubois, not Bland Du Maurier material.
2. Ah. Did I mention glamor?
Rebecca was the first of four collaborations between cackling producer sorcerer David O. Selznick and the newly America-bound Alfred Hitchcock, and if you think that combination wouldn't produce a myriad of classic, glamorous images, you might be blind. Love everything from the starkness of Mrs. Danvers' profile in every shot to the Tara-like grandeur of Manderley's eventual demise.
Joan giving you pre-Casablanca Bergman realness.
Joan cowering (for a change), Laurence wearing the trench coat that would land him
the pivotal role of "faceless paparazzo" in the "Billie Jean" video
Mrs. Danvers imagining Rebecca perform naked ballet by the terrace
Traditional gay circuit party at David Geffen's house
3. Hell yes to Mrs. Danvers' lesbian undertones, overtones, and neutral tones.
OK, so, the demonic and hateful Manderley housekeeper Mrs. Danvers is obsessed with dead Rebecca and will stop at nothing to preserve her memory. Yes, her obsession seems strongly romantic and yes, it feeds into the world of homophobic Hollywood of the '30s and '40s (and '50s, '60s, and '70s, if we're being honest) where weirdo supporting roles were often punctuated with homoerotic turns. Celluloid Closet revisited. But my God: This is a compelling villain right here. Look at her! She's like Ann B. Davis from The Brady Bunch as reimagined by Edgar Allan Poe. The House of the Fall of Sam The Butcher, ladies and gentlemen.
Her most homoerotic moment is when she pulls out Rebecca's negligee from a drawer, gropes it in front of Joan Fontaine, and purrs, "Did you ever see anything so delicate?" You expect Danvers to add, "Of course you haven't. Because you never saw Rebecca's delicate, kickass boobs. Mmm. Like juicy chiffon clouds."
Eventually, Mrs. Danvers' disdain for the Second Mrs. De Winter elevates to outright malice. Case in point: She f*cking tells her to die. Kill herself. Launch herself onto some sea rocks and let the waves brutalize her -- all because she "doesn't compare" to Rebecca. Dig this hilarious speech:
"You thought you could be Mrs. de Winter, live in her house, walk in her steps, take the things that were hers! But she's too strong for you. You can't fight her - no one ever got the better of her. Never, never. She was beaten in the end, but it wasn't a man, it wasn't a woman. It was the sea! You're overwrought, madam. I've opened a window for you. A little air will do you good. Why don't you go? Why don't you leave Manderley? He doesn't need you... he's got his memories. He doesn't love you, he wants to be alone again with her. You've nothing to stay for. You've nothing to live for really, have you? Look down there. It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you? Why don't you? Go on. Go on. Don't be afraid..."
Yow! She is coercive! Judith Anderson, someone should dress up an Oscar in a delicate negligee and plunge it into your headstone. You deserve it.
4. Maxim completely sucks. And it is always funny.
The Second Mrs. De Winter wants to endear her beleaguered husband Maxim, but he is full of bastardly asides that later generations would define as "emo." My favorite of his complaints: "Happiness is something I know nothing about." "Please promise me never to wear black satin or pearls. Or to be 36 years old." And, in the heat of a moment that changes our perception of Rebecca forever: "You thought I loved Rebecca? You thought that? I hated her!" Maxim and his crumbling estate just aren't worth this. I'd almost like him if he came out and said, "You'll all just replace me with Kenneth Branagh one day anyway!"
5. The most over-the-top confessional in the history of cinematic murder.
We're not done with Maxim yet. In what I consider the film's zaniest moment (thanks in part to the movie's kooky score), Olivier explains just how Rebecca died. The big reveal is the gayest moment yet: This chick Rebecca? WAS A SKANK AFTER ALL. Maxim tells of how they struck a deal to maintain the image of a perfect couple for visitors, even though they hated one another and she carried on having affairs. The best part of Maxim's monologue is he mentions how he accidentally bludgeoned her, then she tripped and impaled herself on an unnamed metal object. Total America's Funniet Home Videos material:
"She was smiling: 'Well Max. What are you going to do about it? Aren't you going to kill me?' I suppose I went mad for a moment. I must have struck her. She stood staring at me. She looked almost triumphant. Then she started toward me again, smiling. Suddenly she stumbled and fell. When I looked down, ages afterwards it seemed, she was lying on the floor. She'd struck her head on a heavy piece of ship's tackle. I remember wondering why she was still smiling. Then I realized she was dead."
America, America, this is youuuuu.
Is Rebecca one of your faves? Is Laurence Olivier the ultimate moustache ride? Do Joan Fontaine and Olivia de Havilland secretly sip from the same fountain of youth? What do you think Mrs. Danvers' negligees are made of? Adamantium or Rebecca's intestinal lining?
