Rebecca

The Gothic noir masterpiece against which all other Gothic dramas are measured, Alfred Hitchcock’s adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s sensational 1938 best-seller (and Hitch’s only Best Picture Academy award) brings vivid life to an intricately plotted mystery with resplendent cinematography, an extraordinary cast, producer David O. Selznick’s extravagant taste, and Hitchcock’s instincts for romantic suspense. Having met by chance on holiday in Monte Carlo, wealthy widower Max de Winter (Laurence Olivier) and a young ingenue (Joan Fontaine), whose name is never revealed, agree to marry, after which de Winter brings her home to his vast English estate called Manderley. Here’s where the trouble begins: it seems the house and its staff haven’t let go of de Winter’s first wife, the perfect and beautiful Rebecca whose spirit seems to reign supreme. Having drowned at sea under suspicious circumstances, Rebecca also remains an obsession for Max but for completely different reasons than his new wife suspects. Judith Anderson steals the show as housekeeper Mrs. Danvers whose fixation on Rebecca implies both lesbian yearning and psychotic obsession; indeed, Danvers’ slow manipulation of the new Mrs. de Winter into nearly committing suicide in Rebecca’s bedroom is one of film noir’s — indeed all of film’s — most perfect sequences. Hitchcock’s direction thrills us at every moment, even in the first act when characters are being established on the French Riviera, and George Barnes’ breathtaking cinematography delivers visual beauty in nearly every frame. Rebecca is filmmaking at its magical peak.