Classic Hitchcockian Misogyny in "Rebecca"

Photo credit: Moma

Hitchcock’s Rebecca, like classic Hitchcock, induces anxiety in the viewer from the very first line of the film: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” Beginning the film with a recollection prompts the viewer to wonder not only what Manderley is, but also why the nameless female protagonist can only visit it in her dreams. Already, Manderley establishes a ghostly, indelible presence, haunting both the memories of the speaker in the beginning of the film and the audience’s perception of her, as we witness the speaker being thrown into living in a home overshadowed by the late Rebecca.

The film is deeply imbedded in patriarchal values, and the notion that a woman must be complacent to her male counterparts, as seen through the sheepish representation of the “good” Mrs. de Winter. She lacks agency, and her unauthoritative personality proves ideal to Maxim, as he wants a wife he can control. The film’s focus on depicting women with indomitable personalities as “evil," as seen through Maxim’s perception of Rebecca and Mrs. Danvers’ representation as a psychotic, possessive house keeper, suggests that the “ideal woman” is one that does not have ideas of her own. Whenever Mrs. de Winter questions Maxim or says something he does not approve of, he throws a tantrum, and the woman must then apologize for her independent thoughts and is thus forced to make him feel better about his inadequacy.

Hitchcock’s misogynistic ideals are further highlighted in what is perhaps the epitome of Rebecca: the scene where Mrs. de Winter descends the staircase into the costume party she feels pressured to host. These extravagant balls are particular to Rebecca, so by committing to throwing this party, the nameless protagonist very much lives in Rebecca’s shadow. In an attempt to get Maxim to fall in love with her, she chooses an elaborate, frilly, off-the-shoulder, Mary Bo Peep-esque costume―with the help of the evil Danvers, of course (1:17:10) ― and embarks down the stairs, very much pleased with herself and her appearance. Hitchcock uses the shot-reverse shot technique to amplify the viewer’s anxiety, moving the camera from Mrs. de Winter’s face to Maxim’s back, to her face again, illuminating her puerile oblivion, and of course foreshadowing Maxim’s reaction: one of pure repugnance.

By focusing on Mrs. de Winter’s face, particularly her grandiose faux smile―almost as wide as the brim of her hat― Hitchcock mirrors the excess of Mrs. de Winter’s dress and overall appearance, which practically consume her frail body, with the ever-imposing presence of Manderley. The forced smile propels the audience into knowing that this encounter cannot possibly end well. This notorious scene is not only ludicrous in its literal depiction of a marriage and Maxim’s overreaction to being tested, but it’s also ridiculous in what it represents: the notion that a woman believes that she must change her appearance so that her own husband may finally love her.

Rebecca adheres to its genre― psychological thriller― by not only emphasizing elements of drama and mystery, but also by highlighting the instability and poignant delusionality of most of the characters. Mrs. de Winter’s insistence on “becoming” Rebecca and her lack of self-respect depicted in her subservient personality and constant apologetic nature only emphasizes her volatility; Maxim’s bipolarity in the way he treats his frail wife, shifting from a nausea-inducing sentimentality to a cold nonchalance, and his anxiety that propels at any mention of his deceased wife depicts his psychological battle and later-revealed, guilt he feels for Rebecca’s death; the wretched Mrs. Danvers’ demolition of Manderley after she finds out her beloved Rebecca was keeping truths from her, and Rebecca’s capacity to manipulate everyone and everything around her, so much so that she feels suffocated when she cannot control her own life, only emphasize the notion of instability particular to psychological thrillers.

The film is innovative in its use of shadows, which allude to Rebecca’s ever-present nature. Even though Rebecca never makes a cameo, the film engages in the dichotomy between absence and presence, suggesting that one does not need to be seen to have a lasting impression. The more we don’t see Rebecca, the more we want to see her, and Hitchcock neglects us of that desire. By doing so, Hitchcock poses the questions, “What do we really desire and do those desires matter?” If he would have given us what we wanted, the film would lose so much of its clever-factor: purposely excluding Rebecca is what makes the film ingenious.

By making Rebecca the central character and depriving the protagonist of a name, Hitchcock plays with the notions of desire, female agency, and gender expectations particular to the twentieth century. The woman with the most agency is thoughtfully excluded from the film and the one that lacks agency is depicted as the quintessential wife, especially in context of the male gaze. The good Mrs. de Winter is not only in her prime, but she’s half Maxim’s age, she’s skinny, and petite, and blonde, and beautiful, while Rebecca is depicted as manipulative, intimidating and monstrous, especially from Maxim’s perspective. Even when you consider a character like Mrs. Danvers, who is the second most interesting character after Rebecca, her physicality is nowhere near appealing to the male gaze. Her hair is pulled-back in an unflattering manner, her eyes are creepy and almost unblinking, and her omnipresence throughout Manderley is completely terrifying. Hitchcock therefore suggests that women who question the patriarchy and exude dominance are un-womanlike and ghastly.

Overall, Rebecca is riveting in its innovative tactics of focusing an entire film on a character that never makes an appearance. Hitchcock’s ability to use shadows and scale as a haunting apparition not only seen in Mrs. Danvers presence and Rebecca’s absence, but also in the overpowering size of Manderley is impressive and chilling, yet one cannot ignore the blatant misogyny present in Hitchcock’s films. His representation of women as either beautiful and defenseless or ugly and monstrous highlight the ideology of his time. Can we really critique him for adhering to social values? I don’t know, but it is something to keep in mind when viewing a film like Rebecca.