2.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for sexuality and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang
Oi ... such a yawn.
This fresh adaptation of Daphne
Du Maurier’s My Cousin Rachel is a
true Masterpiece Theater melodrama:
sweeping English countrysides, coastlines and quaint villages; slow, silent
glances exchanged between artificially polite aristocrats; and soft-spoken
dialog pregnant with implication.
 |
| Having come to believe that his earlier impression of Rachel (Rachel Weisz) was unjustified, Philip (Sam Claflin) decides to show her the letter — from his deceased guardian — that prompted such mistrust. |
But absent Jane Austen’s verbal
wit and sparkle, or the suspense and directorial snap that Alfred Hitchcock
brought to his 1940 handling of Du Maurier’s Rebecca, this period piece is a rather dull affair ... particularly
since Sam Claflin’s protagonist is such a callow, foolish and unforgivably
whimpering weenie.
It’s impossible to sympathize
with somebody so relentlessly naïve, and who possesses so little personality.
He’s like unfinished clay, at the mercy of whoever chooses to mold him.
Nor does director/scripter Roger
Michell — who did so much better with
Venus and Notting Hill — bring much to these proceedings.
Du Maurier had a habit of giving
her protagonists no more than their first names, and thus this saga focuses on
Philip (Claflin), orphaned since childhood and raised by his guardian, Ambrose
Ashley. The boy grows up on a large country estate on the Cornish coast, where
the only women permitted within the walls are the many farm dogs. (Surrey’s
West Horsley Place, a lucky find, has just the right mid-19th century
ambiance.)
Such details are revealed in a
brief narrative flashback, as a grown Philip returns home following a
university education that left no significant impression. He finds the estate
bereft of its owner, Ambrose’s “health issues” having sent him on a lengthy
trip to Italy’s warmer climate. Contact is maintained via letters that Philip
shares with his godfather, Nick Kendall (Iain Glen), and Kendall’s daughter,
Louise (Holliday Grainger).
Louise is sweet on Philip, but
he’s oblivious to such affection, having no experience in such matters (to a
degree that becomes increasingly difficult to credit).
The letters continue; Ambrose
writes of meeting and marrying a distant mutual cousin named Rachel. They
remain in Italy, and then the tone of his letters changes; it seems clear that
Rachel has some sort of unhealthy hold over Ambrose. A final letter begs for
Philip’s presence, with haste ... but his arrival in Florence is too late.
Ambrose has died, and Rachel has left; all such details are revealed during a
curt exchange with Rainaldi (Pierfrancesco Favino), a “friend” of Rachel’s whom
Ambrose clearly mistrusted.
Back in Cornwall, Philip learns
from Kendall that Ambrose never changed his will; Philip remains sole heir to
the estate, which will come to him upon his rapidly approaching 25th birthday.
This scarcely cheers the young man, enraged over his belief that Rachel somehow
caused the death of his beloved guardian. When she sends word of an impending
visit, Kendall and Louise caution against “rash” behavior.
They need not have worried. Even
in widow’s black, Rachel (Rachel Weisz) is a vision. Philip, cowed by her
politeness, deferential manner and apparent fragility, retreats to the
cordiality demanded by his upbringing.
Which — right there — is a
transition that Claflin can’t begin to sell. Righteous rage to cowed silence,
in the blink of an eye? Seriously?
I think not.
And, in turn, all subsequent
developments become contrived and equally unpersuasive.
