Movie reviews: Rebecca; Blood and Money; and The Forty-Year-Old Version
Rebecca stars Lily James as Mrs de Winter and Armie Hammer as Maxim de Winter. Picture: Kerry Brown/Netflix
“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”
Daphne du Maurier’s was a rather radical novel when it was first published in 1938: the titular character never appears, the heroine is arguably the most passive character in literary history, and the story evolves into a murder mystery in which the reader is expected to sympathise with a cold-blooded killer.
Director Ben Wheatley attempts to address some of those issues in this latest adaptation of Rebecca (12A), which opens in Monte Carlo with a shy young woman (Lily James) encountering Maxim de Winter (Armie Hammer), a minor aristocrat still grieving the loss of his
wife, Rebecca.
One whirlwind romance later Mr and Mrs de Winter arrive at Manderley, the gothic Cornwall pile overseen by Mrs Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas), whose antipathy to the new Mrs de Winter stems from her adoration of Rebecca, and her conviction that no woman can ever take Rebecca’s place.
What follows is a deliciously nuanced drama (it’s little wonder Alfred Hitchcock was the first to adapt the novel, in 1940) in which the new Mrs de Winter attempts to establish a firm footing in her new world, all the while buffeted by a swirling maelstrom of jealousies, neuroses and secrets revealed.
Lily James is probably too attractive to be fully convincing as the mousy, self-doubting Mrs de Winter of the novel, but here James revels in a part that allows the character a more proactive role in uncovering the mystery of Rebecca’s death.
Armie Hammer is a solid presence as the initially avuncular husband who grows increasingly moody and prone to emotionally isolating his new bride, but it’s Kristin Scott Thomas who is perfectly cast as the icy, manipulative Mrs Danvers, who is mourning not only her former mistress but the very idea of perfection.
The script isn’t wholly successful in ironing out some of the plot’s wrinkles, but for the most part, this adaptation of is a sumptuous, beguiling psychological thriller.
(Netflix)
(15A) opens in the vast, snow-covered forests of northern Maine, with grizzled old hunter Jimmy Reed (Tom Berenger) accidentally shooting a young woman when he mistakes her for a deer. Lying beside her in the snow is a canvas bag stuffed full of cash, which we quickly realise is the proceeds of a casino heist.
Horrified, Jimmy’s first instinct is to run —
but Jimmy, an ex-Marine, is a man hardwired to do the right thing.
When he returns to the scene, however, the woman’s associates are already searching for her, and soon Jimmy finds himself being hunted through the bleak and empty forest …
Written and directed by John Barr, Blood and Money is a superb character study, and especially in the early stages: with virtually no dialogue, Berenger establishes who and what Jimmy is; and once he starts coughing up blood, we understand that this venerable old man has very little left to lose.
Tom Berenger is terrific here, his features so craggy that he might well have been carved out of the frozen landscape, and yet offering a wealth of emotional depth from a fund of barely perceptible gestures and subtle emphases.
There’s strong support too from Kristen Hager as Debbie, the waitress who serves coffee and empathy in equal measures, and who — we gradually realise — has become something of a surrogate for the daughter Jimmy lost in a tragic car accident many years ago.
As uncompromising as its title suggests, Blood and Money is a tough and unsentimental noir.
(various platforms)
The Forty-Year-Old Version (16s) stars Radha Blank as Radha Blank, formerly a promising playwright but now, as he approaches her fortieth birthday, staring into the abyss of
irrelevance.
Determined to reinvent herself, and keen to reflect the real New York, Radha starts rapping, delivering coruscating rhymes on the truth of being a 40-year-old black woman in modern America.
Written and directed by Radha Blank herself, The Forty-Year-Old Version is a brilliantly imaginative appraisal of what the true artist requires from life: while her agent Archie (Peter Kim) and producer Josh (Reed Birney) want Radha to pander to the ‘black poverty porn’ expected by the largely white theatre-going audiences, Radha, who is mourning the death of her mother, has more important things to say.
Hooking up with DJ D (Oswin Benjamin), Radha’s raw and provocative rhymes cut to the very heart of her existence. All of which is hugely absorbing, but the movie is also hilarious as Radha battles gentrification, unconscious racism, and the homeless guy
across the street who operates as a one-man Greek chorus.
Smart, assured, funny and poignant, The Forty-Year-Old Version is a career-defining film from a talent to watch.
(Netflix)
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