"My Cousin Rachel" is the second film to have been based upon the novel by Daphne du Maurier. The first was made in 1952, only a year after the novel was first published. The action takes place in early Victorian Cornwall, with a few scenes set in Italy. The central character is Philip Ashley, a young man from a Cornish landowning family. Philip is an orphan, and has been raised by older cousin Ambrose, who has been like an adoptive father to him. On a trip to Italy Ambrose meets and marries Rachel, a half-Italian cousin to both himself and Philip, but later dies in mysterious circumstances.
We learn that Ambrose attempted to leave his fortune to Rachel but never signed the will, leaving Philip as his sole heir. When Philip and Rachel meet for the first time, he is smitten with love for the beautiful older woman. He is, however, never sure whether he can trust her. He discovers letters from Ambrose, suggesting that his wife may have been trying to poison him for his money. We are left with two possibilities. On the one hand, Rachel may indeed be a sinister poisoner. On the other hand, Ambrose may have fallen prey to delusions produced by the same illness which was eventually to kill him and Rachel may therefore be the innocent victim of unjustified suspicion.
The film is unusually sexually explicit for one made in the traditional British "heritage cinema" style; there are several instances of bad language and a love scene between Philip and Rachel. (Rachel Weisz described her character as "sexually liberated"). There is, of course, a reason why the makers of period dramas tend to avoid such matters. In the 19th century swearing was regarded as socially unacceptable, at least in polite circles; even "bloody", today a relatively mild oath, was considered shocking. As for "sexual liberation", that is generally an anachronistic concept in period dramas set at any time prior to the mid-twentieth century. Victorian women, even independent-minded and free-thinking ones, did not normally claim the right to sleep with any man who took their fancy. Those who did would have been designated by the most opprobrious terms. We say "sexually liberated", they said "whore".
I think, however, that there is a reason why writer-director Roger Michell introduced a sexual element into the storyline, and this reason has nothing to do with a mere desire to titillate or the need to court controversy for controversy's sake. In the 1952 version, the question of whether Rachel, played in that film by Olivia de Havilland, is a villainess or a virtuous heroine is quite deliberately left ambiguous. I felt, moreover, that although ambiguity can in some circumstances be artistically beneficial, it does not work in the context of that particular film, which might have been improved had it come down on one side or the other argument.
Here, however, although Michell never definitely says whether Rachel is a murderess or not, the one thing she cannot be called is a virtuous heroine. By the moral standards of Victorian England she is an immoral woman. Even by 21st century moral standards, her treatment of Philip, whom she rejects after sleeping with him, and after he has signed his property over to her, seems rather heartless. Whatever else she may or may not have done, we cannot help feeling that she has taken unfair advantage of a naïve, virginal young man's infatuation with her, and suspecting that even if she did not kill Ambrose she may have taken advantage of him too. There are two good performances from Weisz and from Sam Claflin, an actor I had not come across before, as Philip.
The film is attractively shot with a good deal of attention to period detail, although its look is less visually sumptuous than some period dramas, doubtless because the Ashleys are minor provincial gentry rather than grand aristocracy. (It is Rachel, with her elaborate dresses, who seems more sophisticated). Following on from the Jane Austen-inspired "Love and Friendship" and a new version of Hardy's "Far from the Madding Crowd", it shows that the heritage cinema movement is still strong in Britain. 7/10
We learn that Ambrose attempted to leave his fortune to Rachel but never signed the will, leaving Philip as his sole heir. When Philip and Rachel meet for the first time, he is smitten with love for the beautiful older woman. He is, however, never sure whether he can trust her. He discovers letters from Ambrose, suggesting that his wife may have been trying to poison him for his money. We are left with two possibilities. On the one hand, Rachel may indeed be a sinister poisoner. On the other hand, Ambrose may have fallen prey to delusions produced by the same illness which was eventually to kill him and Rachel may therefore be the innocent victim of unjustified suspicion.
The film is unusually sexually explicit for one made in the traditional British "heritage cinema" style; there are several instances of bad language and a love scene between Philip and Rachel. (Rachel Weisz described her character as "sexually liberated"). There is, of course, a reason why the makers of period dramas tend to avoid such matters. In the 19th century swearing was regarded as socially unacceptable, at least in polite circles; even "bloody", today a relatively mild oath, was considered shocking. As for "sexual liberation", that is generally an anachronistic concept in period dramas set at any time prior to the mid-twentieth century. Victorian women, even independent-minded and free-thinking ones, did not normally claim the right to sleep with any man who took their fancy. Those who did would have been designated by the most opprobrious terms. We say "sexually liberated", they said "whore".
I think, however, that there is a reason why writer-director Roger Michell introduced a sexual element into the storyline, and this reason has nothing to do with a mere desire to titillate or the need to court controversy for controversy's sake. In the 1952 version, the question of whether Rachel, played in that film by Olivia de Havilland, is a villainess or a virtuous heroine is quite deliberately left ambiguous. I felt, moreover, that although ambiguity can in some circumstances be artistically beneficial, it does not work in the context of that particular film, which might have been improved had it come down on one side or the other argument.
Here, however, although Michell never definitely says whether Rachel is a murderess or not, the one thing she cannot be called is a virtuous heroine. By the moral standards of Victorian England she is an immoral woman. Even by 21st century moral standards, her treatment of Philip, whom she rejects after sleeping with him, and after he has signed his property over to her, seems rather heartless. Whatever else she may or may not have done, we cannot help feeling that she has taken unfair advantage of a naïve, virginal young man's infatuation with her, and suspecting that even if she did not kill Ambrose she may have taken advantage of him too. There are two good performances from Weisz and from Sam Claflin, an actor I had not come across before, as Philip.
The film is attractively shot with a good deal of attention to period detail, although its look is less visually sumptuous than some period dramas, doubtless because the Ashleys are minor provincial gentry rather than grand aristocracy. (It is Rachel, with her elaborate dresses, who seems more sophisticated). Following on from the Jane Austen-inspired "Love and Friendship" and a new version of Hardy's "Far from the Madding Crowd", it shows that the heritage cinema movement is still strong in Britain. 7/10