Well, this is the final episode in a superior adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's "Rebecca," in which the aristocratic Maxim de Winter (Brett) has admitted to his bride (Joanna David) that he'd murdered his vicious first wife, Rebecca, and left her body aboard the sailboat when he deliberately sank it at sea. Nobody but he and David now know about it.
At the inquest, some questions arise when the boatmaker reveals that the boat was deliberately holed and the sea cocks left open. That is to say, it wasn't the accident that everyone had thought. It's also a trifle peculiar that de Winter himself had identified a stranger's body as that of Rebecca. However, de Winter is well thought of in the community, as all enormously wealthy men are well thought of, and the coroner's verdict is suicide.
Enter Rebecca's cousin Jack, a malefactor who had been boffing Rebecca in that cute cottage by the sea -- his own COUSIN! He not only suspects Max de Winter of murder. He has the last letter Rebecca ever wrote, which evidently portrays Max in a homicidal light. He presents all this to Joanna David in the study, when they're alone, grinning and helping himself to the booze. This incident, like all the others in the series, is seen strictly from David's point of view. She's in every scene. By this time Joanna David is beginning to look noticeably more chic. Make up has gotten rid of that mop and given her attractive, subtley waved flaxen locks.
Rebecca's saucy cousin Jack first tries to blackmail the family by producing that letter, which is ambiguous and not enculpatory. "I have something to tell you," is the operative line. For a few thousand quid once in a while, Jack the Swine will keep the letter private. But Max enters, hears the threat, and calls in the police. The local magistrate, playing it stern but fair, sees no evidence of anything but suicide.
Again, the climax is shocking and some details left hidden. It's not nearly as dramatic as the ending of Hitchcock's film but in its own, much quieter way, just as effective. It raises interesting ethical questions but leaves them hanging. It's certainly a violation of one of Kant's categorical imperatives but the sinner gets off.
It's a well-done tale. The acting, direction, and production design are up to par, and the musical score segues from Debussy to Cole Porter. You probably won't mind having watched it
At the inquest, some questions arise when the boatmaker reveals that the boat was deliberately holed and the sea cocks left open. That is to say, it wasn't the accident that everyone had thought. It's also a trifle peculiar that de Winter himself had identified a stranger's body as that of Rebecca. However, de Winter is well thought of in the community, as all enormously wealthy men are well thought of, and the coroner's verdict is suicide.
Enter Rebecca's cousin Jack, a malefactor who had been boffing Rebecca in that cute cottage by the sea -- his own COUSIN! He not only suspects Max de Winter of murder. He has the last letter Rebecca ever wrote, which evidently portrays Max in a homicidal light. He presents all this to Joanna David in the study, when they're alone, grinning and helping himself to the booze. This incident, like all the others in the series, is seen strictly from David's point of view. She's in every scene. By this time Joanna David is beginning to look noticeably more chic. Make up has gotten rid of that mop and given her attractive, subtley waved flaxen locks.
Rebecca's saucy cousin Jack first tries to blackmail the family by producing that letter, which is ambiguous and not enculpatory. "I have something to tell you," is the operative line. For a few thousand quid once in a while, Jack the Swine will keep the letter private. But Max enters, hears the threat, and calls in the police. The local magistrate, playing it stern but fair, sees no evidence of anything but suicide.
Again, the climax is shocking and some details left hidden. It's not nearly as dramatic as the ending of Hitchcock's film but in its own, much quieter way, just as effective. It raises interesting ethical questions but leaves them hanging. It's certainly a violation of one of Kant's categorical imperatives but the sinner gets off.
It's a well-done tale. The acting, direction, and production design are up to par, and the musical score segues from Debussy to Cole Porter. You probably won't mind having watched it