One of the many advantages of Netflix is that Michele and I have been able to watch many classic films unavailable at the local movie-rental store. And one advantage of having a wife with good taste in films (ask her what her favorite movie is, and she’ll point confidently to The Third Man; ask me, and I’ll freeze with indecision while trying to weigh the relative merits of Star Trek II and The Empire Strikes Back) is that she makes sure that our Netflix queue always contains at least some movies with class and/or lasting artistic merit. What this all means is that this weekend Hitchcock’s Rebecca arrived in the mail.
It was excellent–I’d go so far as to say that it’s my new favorite Hitchcock movie. The acting was uniformly excellent (I don’t know if Joan Fontaine plays that same role in all of her movies, but her doe-eyed innocence was perfect for her character here), and each scene was carefully crafted to carry an almost palpable emotional punch. And who would’ve thought that a character who never once appears on camera or speaks a single line of dialogue could have such a tangible presence in almost every single scene?
So if you haven’t seen it, you’re in for a treat. Wait for a nice cold winter evening to come along (easy enough to do here in Michigan) and give it a viewing. It’s a good one.

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