We now have dates for our Melodrama Screening and Discussion Sessions next Term. Meetings will take place on even Mondays, from 5-7pm, in Jarman 7.
All are welcome to join us on: the 25th of January, the 8th and 22nd of February, the 7th and 21st of March and the 4th of April 2016.
Some possibilities for Gothic-related films have been discussed, and these will be confirmed in due course.
Ann-Marie has very kindly provided the following great round-up of our thoughts on The Muppet Christmas Carol:
The Muppet Christmas Carol
THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL, from left: The Great Gonzo, Rizzo the Rat, 1992. ©Walt Disney Pictures
(Brian Henson, 1992) was a festive frolic that encouraged a few interesting discussions. Firstly, we noted Gonzo’s role was incredibly important to the structure of the movie. It was his role as Charles Dickens as Greek chorus that gave the tale a comic aspect. He would pre-warn the audience of things to come, whisper for dramatic effect (with self-reflective humour) and use direct quotes from the novella. In this way he and Rizzo the rat had a complex relationship with the audience. Often films do not have a narrator, and rarer still is one that addresses the audience. Due to this narrative choice the film attempts to replicate the method not only of a book, but an author. Gonzo’s omniscient narration and self-reflective humour became a form of punctuation and altered the rhythm of the story, showing that melodramatic tropes were present in the narrative construction, even if not traditionally. Emotive response, then, is filtered and adapted through the narrator rather than the original story.
The Victorian setting lent itself to Gothic tropes that have been discussed throughout this term. London is a poor and dirty city, filled with smog and shady characters. Two scenes exemplify the Gothic the most: The first is during the Marley sequence where the candlelight is removed, chains rattle and ghosts howl. Although it is still humorous due to the presence of the Muppets, the style relies on tropes for understanding. In many melodramas there is often a sequence that relies on the use of a staircase to convey a change in situation or meaning. The Marley brothers change their position as they move from the private safety of Scrooge’s room, to the staircase where they are dragged down to a more sinister and public space where they shall pay for their crimes to man.
Secondly, the ghost of things yet to come is so chilling that Gonzo and Rizzo abandon
the audience. Here the film uses fog and a deserted graveyard to convey horror. The ghost is dressed in a long grey robe and we never see its face. Scrooge stares into the face of emptiness, a blank space yet to be written. Yet the ghost’s hidden form is melodramatic because of the ensuing silence, showing that a heightened performance can be unsettling through both manic exaggeration (see Bette Davis in Of Human Bondage) and slow meaningful gestures. The performance of the ghost is played in opposition to Caine’s exaggerated movements and this difference in performance style further exaggerates the other. Therefore, melodramatic performances are achieved through this Gothic setting and the play between different forms of performance style and/or puppetry in the film.
All are very welcome to join us for the last of this term’s Screening and Discussion sessions, which will take place on Monday the 14th of December, 4.30-7pm, in Jarman 7.
We will be showing Ann-Marie’s festive choice: The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992, Brian Henson, 85 minutes).
Ann-Marie has very kindly provided the following introduction:
The Muppet Christmas Carol (Brian Henson, 1992) retells Charles Dickens’ famous festive novella, A Christmas Carol. The original story was first published in 1843 and received critical acclaim for its story of a bitter, ageing man that comes to realise the error of his ways. Since its publication it has been re-told in a variety of mediums, each attempting to add their own creative individuality onto the timeless story.
The Muppets, with their usual self-reflective humour, seem to be an odd choice for this week’s film. However, despite Gonzo’s amusing depiction as an omniscient narrator, the film does have some classic tropes. Some examples of the tropes that appear include: performance style, disguise and music. In the next session it may be useful to debate how Charles Dickens’ work is adapted from screen, and if his sensationalist writing has impacted the depiction of his work in cinema.
Do join us if you can, for this Christmas classic – festive eatables will be provided!
Exciting News!
Gothic romance Crimson Peak (2015) will be showing at the Gulbenkian Cinema on the Canterbury campus from Saturday 5th-Monday 7th of December. The last date includes a post-screening discussion with the Melodrama Research Group’s Dr Tamar Jeffers McDonald.
You can find more information and book tickets here: http://www.thegulbenkian.co.uk/events/cinema/2015/December/2015-12-crimson-peak.html
The Gulbenkian’s blurb:
Dir: Guillermo del Toro | USA | 2015 | Run time TBC
Cast | Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, Tom Hiddleston, Charlie Hunman
From Guillermo del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth) comes the hotly awaited Crimson Peak, a gothic thriller with a top flight cast including Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, Tom Hiddleston and Charlie Hunman. Hailed by horror writer Stephen King after an early screening as “gorgeous and just f***ing terrifying”, it’s set in Cumbria in the 19th century, in a crumbling mansion where young author Edith Cushing (Wasikowska) falls in love with Sir Thomas Sharpe (Hiddleston) but discovers, after marrying him, that her new husband is not who he seems. A ghost story and a gothic romance, del Toro is riffing on other haunted house films here in this very scary, brilliantly atmospheric horror.
FilmTalk: Post-screening discussion with Dr Tamar Jeffers McDonald, University of Kent following Monday’s screening in the Gulbenkian Café.
Tickets: Full £8.30 / Concessions £7.30 / GulbCard Members £6.30 / Students £5.30 / GulbCard Students £4.30
Venue: Cinema
Comments on Robert Siodmak’s The Spiral Staircase (1946) included the film’s temporal and geographical settings; its use of early cinema entertainment; the film’s plot; its heroine; the source novel; feminism and the film’s characters; the couple; the melodrama genre and more specifically gothic tropes such as the staircase.
Our discussion began with appreciation for the film’s opening. This occurs just after the shadowy shot of a woman descending a spiral staircase over which the credits roll. After establishing a suitably creepy atmosphere, the film proceeds to communicate the film’s time and place. Small town America is conveyed by wide streets and the date narrowed to sometime in the 1910s judging by the dirt road, horses and carts, and characters’ costumes. The date is further pinned down by the screening of a modern attraction – a short silent motion picture, The Kiss. (This might be an extract from Ulysses Davis’ 1914 version starring William Desmond Taylor, although several shorts with the same name were produced in the 1910s.)
The heroine of the film, young mute Helen 
(Dorothy McGuire), is attending the screening and this aligns us with her as film goers. It also creates a certain expectation of romance within the film – once more for both us and Helen. We especially liked this depiction of film history within a film text, and were impressed by the inclusion of a woman playing live piano accompaniment. Soon the murder of a disabled young woman is committed in her rooms above the theatre. The masterly fluid use of space between the lower and higher levels contrasts to the disjuncture inherent in our viewing of those enjoying an entertainment and the serious crime taking place upstairs. Even the dramatic nature of the short overtaken by ‘real’ events.
While the alignment of us with Helen, and the other film goers, draws us into the action the dissonance between audience experiences (silent vs sound) separates us. This led us to ponder some key differences between the source material (Ethel Lina White’s Some Must Watch 1933) and the film. The action has moved from rural UK to small-town America (despite the inclusion of recognisable British actors Elsa Lanchester and Sara Allgood). The heroine is now a mute which places her in the path of the serial killer murdering disabled women. These women begin 10 years earlier with a woman with learning difficulties, and more recently one with a scarred face (a strong comment on the linking of women and beauty), another woman with learning difficulties, a woman with mobility issues, one who refused to love the murderer (presumably this is seen to show a lack of judgement, though of course we know differently), and lastly possibly Helen, who is mute. More significantly the film is placed around twenty years earlier than the novel. Instances of feminism in the film are therefore displaced onto earlier times and the fact that the heroine literally, and not just metaphorically, has no voice is also connected to the time of women’s suffrage. We also noted that conduct literature of the time advocated all women being quiet – raising her hat to get attention rather than shouting.
We discussed the instances 
of feminism in the film at some length. The heroine is not saved by a man, but a woman. Specifically Helen’s saviour is her elderly, seemingly bed-ridden and cranky employer Mrs Warren (Ethel Barrymore). Not only does Mrs Warren urge Helen to leave the house for her own safety but she shoots her stepson, Professor Warren (George O’Brien), when she realises he has committed these heinous crimes. Although this action might seem surprising – especially in terms of the character’s limited mobility – several important factors have been established earlier. We see Mrs Warren with a gun which she then manages to somehow hide and her hunting past is evidenced by the various animal trophies in her room which include several stuffed birds, tusks and a prominently placed tiger rug. The latter is focuses on when Helen almost trips over it. Mrs Warren explicitly claims it as her ‘kill’ and notes that her husband said she was ‘not as beautiful’ as his first wife but that she was a much better ‘shot’ – a strength he greatly admired. As well as establishing Mrs Warren’s strong character the various stuffed animals add to the creepy setting by adding more watching pairs of eyes – death pervades not just the town, but the house too.
Mrs Warren also provides a vital insight into the motivations of the killer when she comments, early on, that her husband thought men could only be men if they were toting guns. This places the blame firmly at the feet of her dead husband and this is later confirmed by Professor Warren’s ‘justification’ to Helen. He specially states that his father would be proud he is ridding the world of the ‘afflicted’. (Notably not weak people – there are no male victims only those doubly ‘afflicted’ by disfigurement or disability and the being of the female gender.)
Professor Warren’s half-brother Steve’s behaviour is also critiqued. His attentions are seen to bother his brother’s secretary, Blanche, with their final meeting including him telling her that he enjoys watching her cry. He considers this sadistic behaviour common to all men since women’s expressions of their emotions make the male gender feel ‘superior’. Specifically he cautions Blanche not to be ‘melodramatic’.
The film cannot be viewed as a straightforward criticism of patriarchy, however, as it switches between approaches. The romantic subplot with Doctor Parry expresses this most strongly. Helen and Doctor Parry’s status as a romantic couple is far more straightforward than either Rebecca or Sorry, Wrong Number. While Maxim de Winter and Lenore’s husband are killers (and significantly wife-killers) Doctor Parry is a decent man of conviction. He does not express his love for Helen other than a brief kiss, but it is commented on by Mrs Warren in front of the pair. Mrs Warren attempts to displace the responsibility for taking Helen away onto Doctor Parry, though this is unsuccessful.
This view of traditional gender roles is also held by Helen. Her fantasy is of her wedding to Doctor Parry. She pictures this taking place at the house but this turns into a nightmare when she is unable to utter ‘I do’. It is also notable that Doctor Parry takes it upon himself to ‘cure’ Helen of her lack of speech becoming, albeit briefly, another threatening man in the narrative as she shouts at her. In fact Helen only regains her voice after the shock of Mrs Warren shooting her stepson.
We also spoke about the film’s effective creation and dissipation of suspense. As Helen walks home after the murder at the theatre she hears something. Arming herself with a heft tree branch she is relieved to discover the source of the sound was merely a rabbit. As Helen approaches the house she drops her door key and as she stoops to collect it we are afforded a glimpse of a man Helen does not see. Thankfully she reaches the front door and gains access to the house. This is not without a sense of foreboding though as Helen is being watched by various statutes and ‘faces’ in the furniture. Our concerns are made more concrete as it is soon revealed that someone has deliberately opened one of the windows whish the housekeeper Mrs Oates insists was earlier shut. Another moment of suspense is created as off-camera we hear Mrs Oates cry out as she walks out. The culprit – a bulldog- is soon revealed. Such switches (and those critiquing and supporting patriarchy) are part of the ‘rhythm’ of the film’s melodrama.
More specifically gothic tropes such as a woman carrying a candlestick exploring the space of the house also appear. While three women (Mrs Oates, Blanche and Helen) perform this action, only the heroine is actively investigating. Mrs Oates is seeking brandy in the cellar (which it is later revealed her employer Professor Warren has deliberately let her steal so that she will be incapacitated and unable to interfere in his crimes) and Blanche is simply retrieving her suitcase so she can leave. Helen alone is investigating by going looking for the missing Blanche. Shortly after Helen finds Blanche murdered, Steven appears on the scene and Helen is proactive in taking action – she utilises Mrs Oates’ candle trick to trick him into the cellar and lock the door. Interestingly other aspects of the heroine wearing a nightgown (see The Innocents 1961) is fulfilled by Blanche and later Mrs Warren who has places her house coat over her bedclothes when she shoots her stepson.
Staircases also play an important role. We noted the striking high angle shot which details Mrs Warren at the top of the staircase shooting her stepson several times. Her powerful position cats her as judge and executioner. More generally, character are often ascending and descending them. It is useful to bear in mind Mary Ann Doane’s comment on the staircase’s significance as a space of ‘transition’ (1987, pp. 135-6: https://melodramaresearchgroupextra.wordpress.com/2015/12/02/melodrama-reading-doanes-paranoia-and-the-specular/) We
particularly noted the difference between the use of the huge front formal staircase (more usually used by the family) and the shadowy back stairs (for the servants). While the former were ascended a lot the back stairs were mostly descended. The fact the prominently placed mirror occupied liminal space by appearing half way up the formal staircase was also discussed. We found the killer POV shots occurring here especially tense, reminding us of Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960) and Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960).
You can find more information on Some Must Watch here: https://melodramaresearchgroupextra.wordpress.com/?s=some+must+watch)
As ever, do log in to comment or email me on sp458@kent.ac.uk to add your thoughts.
All are very welcome to join us for the third of this term’s Screening and Discussion sessions, which will take place on Monday the 30th of November, 4.30-7pm, in Jarman 7.
We will be showing The Spiral Staircase (1945,Robert Siodmak, 83 mins)
The film is based on Ethel Lina White’s popular novel Some Must Watch (1933). The Gothic plot revolves around a young woman who has been recently employed at a large house. This occurs against the backdrop of a series of murders of local women. Siodmak’s film increases the vulnerability of these victims as they are all women with disabilities. Coincidentally our heroine Helen (Dorothy McGuire) is a mute, unable, even, to scream in terror…
Do join us if you can.
Sadly, due to technical difficulties, we were unable to screen the advertised film, Uncle Silas. Instead, we watched another woman in peril film Sorry, Wrong Number (1948, Anatole Litvak, 88 mins). This starred Barbara Stanwyck as bedridden ‘cardiac neurotic’ Leona and Burt Lancaster as her husband, Henry Stevenson. Superficially the film may not seem to have much in common with our focus on the Gothic theme other than it centring on a woman in peril. However, our discussion noted the significance of several large shadowy houses/apartments and Leona and another female character turning into investigators. We also spoke about how Leona was similar to, and different from, her fellow female Gothic investigators. There was discussion on the film’s radio play origins and the ways in which the film padded out two almost 3 times the radio play’s length and its extensive, and sometimes nested, use of Flashbacks. The ways in which the film widened out the narrative from a prime focus on Leona and fleshes out is characters and their motivations were also commented on. This allowed for us to usefully compare and contrast Sorry, Wrong Number’s central couple to the de Winters in Rebecca. Finally we noted more traditionally filmic devices such as the Flashback and Montage, and the significance of the telephone in relation to cinema.
After the brief opening which combines dramatic text about the ‘horror’ of the telephone and shots of operators busily connecting people which establishes the importance of telephones to the film’s plot, we are afforded our first view of Stanwyck. Bedridden Leona is telephoning her husband’s office in an apartment which increasingly becomes full of shadows and suspense as she overhears a murder plot through a crossed wire. In addition to the large New York apartment Leona is confined to in the ‘present’ of the film we discussed other more Gothic spaces. A large empty 
beach house is the focus of Leona’s husband’s criminal activities, while Leona’s childhood home, a Chicago mansion full of dark furniture, large hanging portraits, also appears. The latter is the setting for some of Leona’s moments of hysteria which comment on her odd relationship with her father, including accusations he wants to keep her all to himself.
Due to Leona’s restrictions, she relies on the telephone to access information for her investigations. These begin with her search for her husband which leads her to telephone her husband’s secretary. Leona is furnished with information about a woman who has visited her husband at his office. This is Sally Hunter – who it is revealed was Leona’s ‘friend’ and her husband’s girlfriend before Leona stole him away. Significantly it is Sally who provides Leona with much of the information on the former’s husband’s investigation into the latter’s criminal activities. We see Sally visiting the beach, though not entering the beach house so we are denied shots of her investigating the dark space.
In addition to acting as an enabler for Leona’s investigative interests (even though these are set in the past) Sally doubles Leona in other ways. She is her rival in love and both are interested in the investigation due to their concern for Henry. Sally also suffers in ways we can compare to Leona. Although she is not physically restricted, the bonds of marriage and motherhood are clearly shown. Sally’s husband assumes his wife is responsible for the fact their child is out of bed late and night and expects her to provide him and his friends with beers. These restrictions even lead to her being tortured, like
Leona, by telephones – though to a lesser extent. This is in terms of access as she chases around the city moving from her home to a drugstore so she can discuss the case with Leona openly, and when the drugstore closes to a telephone at a busy and noisy station. This also succeeds in torturing Leona and the audience as we only find our information as Leona does and this is enacted in Flashbacks.
Notably not even Sally knows much about the investigation which furthers the suspense. Leona has to rely on a chance phone call from a man – a chemist at her father’s pharmaceutical business who reveals he was her husband’s partner in crime. The calm Waldo Evans politely and slowly reveals the situation to Leona. Evans’ composure is effectively contrasted to Leona’s increasing hysteria – when it gradually becomes clear that she is the planned murder victim of the overheard telephone call.
Leona’s passive receiving of information prompted us to consider other ways in which she differs to more obviously Gothic heroines. While the second Mrs de Winter is hardly an active investigator, her questioning of various people and her physical movement through space sharply contrasts to Leona’s. They are also very different in terms of the sympathy they might elicit from the audience. The second Mrs de Winter is in many ways childlike in her innocence. Leona also exhibits childlike characteristics but these are of a spoilt child not one who needs protecting but one who tramples on others to get what she wants. We might feel some sympathy for Leona in the desperate declaration of her love for her husband and her final fate, but she is fundamentally dislikeable – especially when compared to her double, Sally, whom she has treated very badly. It was noted that Leona is similar in some ways to the second Mrs de Winter’s vulgar employer Mrs Van Hopper. Both women are predatory towards the main male character in their respective films. This also extends to scenes set in each woman’s bedroom with both confined to bed by illness and wearing nightgowns. While costume aligns Leona with Mrs Van Hopper it also separates her from the second Mrs de Winter and in Sorry, Wrong Number from Sally. Leona is always exquisitely dressed but the second Mrs de Winter and Sally are less expensively attired.
Furthermore both main female characters 
in Sorry, Wrong Number and Rebecca seem morally unambiguous. Leona is dislikeable and plotting in nature. This was perhaps necessary to allow for her to be killed in the era of the Production Code, with the murder itself also a central part of the ‘famous’ radio play the film references in its credits. The second Mrs de Winter is innocent and likeable. However the men in both films are morally murky. Indeed both Henry and Maxim are painted fairly sympathetically as victims of either a demanding wife and threatening associates or a philandering wife. The couple of Sorry, Wrong Number can be contrasted to Rebecca. While Maxim was a threat to his first wife it seems unlikely he will harm his second, while much of the threat to Leona stems from her husband’s inaction in not stopping his associates rather than deliberate plotting on his part. We found it especially interesting that while part of Leona’s medical condition – her cardiac neurosis – is in effect hysteria causing her to think she has heart problems she is also facing a very real threat which her condition, and her behaviour, has made her vulnerable to. By contrast, the second Mrs de Winter’s fears are shown to be entirely justified, though not in danger, when it is revealed her husband killed his late wife.
The fleshing out of characters, especially Henry, contrasts to the radio play. Also notably different is the use of extensive, at times nested, Flashbacks which certainly aids the rounding out of the characters. But it also breaks up the suspense to a large extent – rather than 30 minutes of mounting hysteria the back and forth and the pacing suggests a more rhythmic melodrama. Rhythm was also seen in montages where it served a different purpose. Most notably to this conveyed Leona and Henry’s progressing relationship as they visited several countries on their honeymoon and Leona increasingly treated Henry with cool disdain as she controlled his behaviour and kept a physical distance.
The centrality of telephones to the narrative prompted comment as to its use as a device in the film as well as its wider significance. Even before we see any characters the evils of the telephone are described in terms of bringing ‘horror’ to some people. We discussed the telephone’s ability to simultaneously bring people together in terms of audio and to emphasise geographical distance. This is explicitly commented on when Henry (wrongly) reassures a frightened Leona that she is the middle of New York with a phone by her bed and therefore not in any danger. We noted that this served as a metaphor for cinema – while we can see and hear characters’ lives being played out we are unable to intervene. We mentioned earlier examples focusing on the telephone. These included a French one-handed play in which the only character has to listen on the phone as his wife is attacked, D. W. Griffith’s The Lonely Villa (1909), and Lois Weber’s Suspense (1913) in which similar situations, but with happier outcomes, occur.
(You can see more on The Lonely Villa and Suspense from earlier blog discussions: http://blogs.kent.ac.uk/melodramaresearchgroup/2013/05/12/melodrama-screening-and-discussion-15th-may-jarman-7-4-7pm/ and http://blogs.kent.ac.uk/melodramaresearchgroup/2013/05/16/summary-of-discussion-on-early-film-melodrama-shorts/)
Of course Sorry, Wrong Number contrasts to these in that the worried husband is, if only indirectly, responsible for the wife’s attack, further highlighting the ambiguity of the male character.
We also discussed Leona’s disability in terms of our next screening, The Spiral Staircase (1945). Both women are also disabled in their passivity – being female appears to be another disability.
As ever, do log in to comment, or email me on sp458@kent.ac.uk to add your thoughts.
And do check out some fascinating Fan and Trade Magazine materials relating to the film on the wonderful Network of Research: Movies, Magazines, Audiences (NoRMMA) blog: http://www.normmanetwork.com/?p=249
Sorry, Wrong Number Links
Film Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LMZcFMRV5o
The original radio play: https://archive.org/details/Suspense430525SorryWrongNumberWestCoast
The Stanwyck radio remake for Lux radio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIbcJxQukO4
Jack Benny’s take on the film:
https://archive.org/details/JackBennyProgram481017SorryWrongNumber
Our screenings of Gothic films, many of which might be included in Hollywood’s Golden Age, afford us a great opportunity to collaborate with our lovely fellow Kent bloggers of NoRMMA (Network of Research: Movies, Magazines, Audiences).
NoRMMA has posted some really interesting Fan Magazine materials from the 1940s regarding Rebecca – and its star Joan Fontaine. These include an Advertisement, Reviews and an article on Fontaine. Analysis of such texts is especially apt given the film’s referencing of Fashion Magazines through which the second Mrs de Winter finds sartorial inspiration.
You can see the post here: http://www.normmanetwork.com/?p=233
After the screening of Uncle Silas on the 2nd of November check out http://www.normmanetwork.com for more fascinating Fan Magazine material relating to our Gothic season.
Hi all,
A reminder that Kat’s fabulously scary Waves of Horror Festival will take place over this Halloween weekend on the University of Kent Canterbury campus.
Here’s a link to a search on Waves of Horror on the Gulbenkian Cinema’s website for those feeling brave enough! : http://www.thegulbenkian.co.uk/search/?q=waves+of+horror
Also see their facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Waves-of-Horror-Film-Festival-736601073018188/
And the twitter account: https://twitter.com/WavesofHorror?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor
After recovering from the experience of watching all the dramatic happenings, our discussion of the film included: the second Mrs de Winter as ‘gothic heroine’ in terms of her being an ‘almost investigator’ as well as her naivety and youth; the way ‘dress tells the woman’s story’; Mrs Danvers’ literal and metaphorical hand in running the house; Hitchcockian set-pieces; the eternal mystery of Rebecca.
We began by noting some differences between the second Mrs de Winter (Joan Fontaine) and other Gothic film heroines. Comparison to Mrs Danvers (Judith Anderson) elucidates this matter. Some of our recent focus has been on Gothic heroine as explorer – often in the dark, with a candlestick, and that this, in opposition to some
expectations, reveals the woman actively exploring space. In Rebecca only Mrs Danvers receives this attention. This occurs toward the film’s end, just prior to her setting light to Manderley. We are afforded a shot of Danvers, with the candle light playing wickedly on her face, and it is soon revealed she is creeping towards a sleeping, innocent and endangered second Mrs de Winter.
The second Mrs de Winter does, nonetheless, get to explore the space of the house to an extent. She is what Lisa M. Dresner terms as ‘almost investigator’ (pp. 163-4)[i]. Indeed most of the second Mrs de Winter’s movement around the house is somewhat blundering. Understandably she is unfamiliar with where certain rooms are situated. Notably she also manages to trip over her own feet, rather like a puppy, in front of the servants as she exits the dining room following her first hurried breakfast.
Such clumsiness links to the character’s youth. Her naivety and innocence prized by Maxim (Laurence Oliver) who states that he wants her to say a ‘child’ and a ‘girl’. The film is a ‘growing-up’ narrative, however, with the second Mrs de Winter gaining confidence as time progresses. This is especially shown by costume. The pale twinset and tweed skirt and unadorned or Alice-banded hair which characterise her early in the film gives way to her wearing a sophisticated black evening gown and pearls. Her excitement at her new dress is soon quelled by Maxim. After his unenthusiastic reaction – he reminds her that he stated at the beginning of their romance that he never wanted to see her wearing a black gown and a string of pearls – she looks uncomfortable, tugging at her dress. Maxim is made even angrier when his new wife dons a copy of Lady Caroline de Winter’s dress. She finds her level in the dark tailored skirt suit and hat she wears at the inquest into Rebecca’s death. 
This comments on, as Jane Gaines expresses, ‘how dress tells the woman’s story’[ii]. We also commented that Maxim comes to appreciate his second wife’s newly-found strength, with the film also focusing on how he comes to terms with her evolution.
Rebecca’s costumes also play an important part in the film. In addition to the second Mrs de Winter unwittingly copying the last dress her predecessor wore at a ball, Mrs
Danvers’s treatment of Rebecca’s clothes is revealing. She has kept Rebecca’s bedroom just as it was and insists on showing it to her previous mistress’ replacement. Danvers’ handling of Rebecca’s fur coat and especially her sheer underwear are significant – she tellingly states that ‘you can see my hand’ thought the flimsy fabric of the negligee.
This literal hand also directs our attention to Danvers’ more metaphorical hand in directing the second Mrs de Winter around the space of Rebecca’s bedroom, motioning to her to sit whilst she pretends to brush the substitute Rebecca’s hair. Danvers’ control extends to the rest of the house. She has also kept the morning room just as it was – complete with Rebecca’s address book, menus, and compromising letters. Danvers’ domination of the house, and arguably the film, is seen in the even more public space of the entrance hall. This is especially evident when we compare the second Mrs de Winter’s return to Manderley (at the opening of the film) to her initial entrance. In the former she is in charge of the voice over narration, framing our understanding, while in the latter. Danvers has stamped her authority by lining up her battalion of staff to intimidate her new mistress. The blurring between the drawing of battle lines between the two women and the possibility of the second Mrs de Winter replacing Rebecca in 
Danvers’ affections is shown in one simple but effective gesture in this scene. It is revealed that the second Mrs de Winter has dropped her gloves and both women bend to retrieve them. While this shows the second Mrs de Winter’s unease around servants it might also be interpreted as either her unwittingly throwing down the gauntlet to Danvers or indeed as a courtship ritual.
Judith Anderson’s intriguing and creepily effective performance also prompted thought about the way her part was written compared to the final film product. Furthermore we noted some Hitchcockian set-pieces. The audience’s watching of the newly-wedded
couple screening their honeymoon home movies masterfully contrasts the carefree happenings on screen to the now stilted relationship of the pair. This occurs just after Maxim’s unenthusiastic response to his wife’s new dress and he starts to behave in an even more threatening manner, at times moving in front of the projector and blocking his wife (and our) access to the home movies. (See Mary Ann Doane for a great analysis of this scene – pp. 163-169.)[iii]
Sound was more dominant elsewhere as close ups of a ringing phone appeared on two notable occasions. In the first, at the Monte Carlo hotel, the soon-to-be second Mrs de Winter leaves her room due to the orders of her employer, the ghastly Mrs Van Hopper, just as Maxim returns her call. The second at the cottage on the beach is more dramatic, interrupting Maxim’s confession to his new wife. The set is especially atmospheric, if perhaps unbelievable with its still connected telephone, stubbed out cigarettes and cobwebs. We also compared Rebecca to some of Hitchcock’s other works. Rear Window (1954) also includes a tense phone call scene though we thought the tone of Rebecca better matched The Lady Vanishes (1939) – partly due to the Britishness (or affected Britishness) of the actors in both.
We ended by commenting that in the end we knew little about either Mrs de Winter. Speculation about Rebecca’s ‘unspeakable’ behaviour dominated. Despite the Hays Code, the film is explicit that Rebecca has been indulging in an adulterous affair with her cousin Favell (George Sanders) which may have resulted in a pregnancy. But what previous medical ailments meant she needed to visit the backstreet doctor several times under the alias of Mrs Danvers? And what was the nature of the relation between Rebecca and ‘Danny’? Tamar mentioned that at around the time of writing Rebecca Daphne Du Maurier wrote a short story also focused on a character named Rebecca. This Rebecca’s aberrant behaviour is elucidated – she behaves coldly to the story’s male narrator as she finds her sexual fulfilment with a wooden doll.
Apologies for the spoiler, but you can find the story in full here: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/apr/30/the-doll-daphne-du-maurier
In addition, here are some posts about Rebecca on The Toast’s website Lies mentioned:
http://the-toast.net/2015/07/13/the-sequel-to-rebecca-the-second-mrs-de-winter-deserves/
http://the-toast.net/2015/10/08/in-1937-daphne-du-maurier-wrote-a-horror-story-about-sex-toys/
[i] Lisa M. Dresner, “A Case Study of Rebecca”. The Female Investigator in Literature, Film, and Popular Culture (2006): 154-182.
[ii] Gaines, Jane. 1991. “Costume and Narrative: How dress tells the woman’s story” in Gaines, Jane and Herzog, Charlotte, eds, Fabrications: Costume and the Female Body. New York and London: Routledge.
[iii] Mary Anne Doane, “Female Spectatorship and the Machines of Projection: Caught and Rebecca.” The Desire to Desire: The Woman’s Film of the 1940s (1987): 155-175.
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