In kissing off her nasty, disapproving guardian (Mrs. von Hoffstetter) and improbably marrying wealthy Maxim de Winter, nameless, socially-retarded servant Joan Fontaine leaps from the frying pan into the fire. Van Hoffstetter is instantly replaced by the awful, iron-willed, disdaining housekeeper at her new estate, Mrs. Danvers; some sort of nightmare embodiment of all that's wrong and masochistic about British servitude. Not able to get over her own mousiness, Fontaine develops a fear of Danvers, and a bizarre inverted power-dynamic develops. The plot (eventually) thickens...
The big revelations are hopelessly convoluted and plot-negating. Here's the final hour's worth of conflicts which all reverse themselves into pointlessness. --- Maxim can't bear to be reminded of Rebecca apparently because she was such a paragon of womanhood. Oh, but wait, he actually hated her; what a stroke of luck for our heroine! --- Someone else is buried in Rebecca's grave, meaning (gasp!), Rebecca's still alive? Nope, she's dead anyway. --- Rebecca was a conniving bitch and was provoking Maxim to kill her? Oh, but luckily, she accidentally fell and died anyway. --- Rebecca was probably pregnant making it look like Maxim killed her? Oh, but no, luckily she was full of cancer and would have died that month anyway. OH come on already! Such poor writing. One of these limp developments would have been too much. Generally, we don't go to a movie to watch dumb luck neutralize a catalog of threats in someone's life.
Rebecca is unusually slow and uneventful. I've rented this three times previously, out of a sense of obligation, and fallen asleep each time, after no more than 45 minutes; and never finished it. The idle rich are shown having lots of time to be idle and fret about obscure things; pretty dull, unless you're into time-jumping, class-fantasy. I watched it recalling that the British pretty much consider their upper-class to be lunatics. I fell asleep again this time, but trudged on just to be through with it, once and for all. At the first twist, the damned thing should have ended, but there's still about an hour of reversals left! It's decidedly un-Hitchcockian except for Hitch's odd use of miniatures and rear-screen, which is becoming distracting here. A puppet of Mrs. Danvers closing a tiny window is unconvincing even at the scale of TV. This is a dull, clumsy, overlong melodrama with tedious, long-delayed segments devoted to exposition. There's also a costume ball; a bankrupt cliché if there ever was one. Rebecca is a bad movie.