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Harbord, Janet. “Between Identification and Desire: Rereading ‘Rebecca.’” Feminist Review, No. 53, Speaking Out: Researching and Representing Women (Summer, 1996), pp. 95-107.
Janet Harbord begins her discussion by introducing the tangents between psychoanalysis and the romance novel – though they seem to be totally separate disciplines, both engage a dialogue between past and present, defining time as an inevitable sign of progress. The appeal of repetition arises due to the comfort inherent in familiar patterns, bringing to the forefront the fundamental human tendency towards stability, sought after both in psychoanalysis and romance narratives. Furthermore, that which is forbidden also appeals to us equally as much, though often more fleetingly so, and it is upon this basis that Harbord suggests the implications of homosexual desire in Rebecca.
Interestingly, it is the very normative, repressive structure so often found in romance narratives that encourages the breaking of such boundaries through textual exploration of possibilities apart from the conventional. Thus, quite opposite from the championing of the traditional heterosexual household, romance narratives such as Rebecca in fact often subtly subvert accepted cultural values by implying the option of other alternatives – in this case, lesbian desire. Such storylines appeal primarily to women for the simple reason of reflexivity, for as women question their own societal and sexual roles, literature and film provide a useful avenue for self-reflection and relief in resolving the conundrum of individual identity.
Distinctive visual symbolism in Rebecca enhances the exploration of issues such as class, gender, ethnicity, and sexuality. Rebecca herself, an eerily absent center of desire throughout the film, serves as the ghostly epitome of the white, upper class married woman, yet simultaneously represents raw sexuality and hence evokes lesbian desire. The symbolic emphasis on her clothing, for example, introduces the fundamental dichotomy between the exterior façade as opposed to the true nature of an individual. Ultimately, Rebecca’s appeal is her transgression of traditionally delineated boundaries, as she crosses lines of class, gender, and, most centrally, female sexuality.
Tay, Sharon Lin. “Constructing a Feminist Cinematic Ideology: The Gothic Woman’s Film Beyond Psychoanalysis.” Women, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Winter, 2003), pp. 263-280.
Distinctive historical and social factors provided for the emergence of the Gothic woman’s film in Hollywood during the 1940’s. The Second World War elicited an upheaval in the American social hierarchy, necessitating that women enter the work force and thus empowering them to an unprecedented degree. Also, the movie-going audience changed, with a larger proportion of females in the audience than men, since the majority of them were abroad fighting. Finally, the cinema adjusted to address this new predominantly feminine audience, introducing female protagonists and feminine plotlines. Heterosexual marital fulfillment often remained the ultimate goal in these films, with the rejection or failure to comply with this societal standard usually resulting in the heroine’s madness or death.
When comparing Gothic films from the early 1940’s with those made later in the decade, the heroines of the earlier films harbor unwarranted suspicions of their husbands, while in the later films another male character is introduced who is thoroughly benevolent and succeeds in rescuing the heroine. Still, the Gothic woman’s film differs from the conventional films preceding it because, for the first time, the heroine puts up some degree of resistance to compliance with traditional societal demands. Indeed, the primary focus shifts from purely romance to violence and mystery, qualities shared with other genres such as film noir and horror. This transgression by the plotline and the heroine of conventional expectations destabilizes and exposes gaps in the normative cinema structure, and the ambiguity created by this uncertainty is the source of suspense.
Epitomizing the transgression beyond traditional boundaries is Rebecca, who represents the exact opposite of the young wife’s demure, conventional femininity. Symbolized by the turbulent, crashing waves of the sea, Rebecca’s uncontrollable, unpredictable power creates a constant source of tension and disruption throughout the film. Whenever the possibility of calm or resolution arises, a monogrammed belonging of Rebecca’s may appear, thrusting the plot back into uncertainty and chaos. This atmosphere of paranoia and fear is highly characteristic of the Gothic woman’s film, and the transgression of traditionally feminine societal norms formed a basis for the eventual development of the feminist movement.
Light, Alison. “‘Returning to Manderley’: Romance Fiction, Female Sexuality and Class.” Feminist Review, No. 16 (Summer, 1984), pp. 7-25.
Light’s analysis begins with a plot summary of DuMaurier’s iconic novel, highlighting the role of the late Rebecca as the driving force behind the young heroine’s mounting fear and paranoia. She addresses the criticism often plaguing romance narratives as simplistic and stereotyping, fostering an oppressive ideology towards women that unfailingly defines the ultimate goal to be heterosexual marriage. Feminists argue that such a plotline is insulting to women, essentially suggesting that they belong in a socially and sexually subordinate place.
Rebecca, however, is a slightly modified case, as it encompasses both the genres of romance and crime. Rebecca herself is central to the development of both these genres, with her role as both the iconic epitome of feminine prowess, and the victim of murder which lends the narrative its elements of mystery and horror. Accordingly, Light insists that the absolute core of both these components is Manderley itself, the zenith of Rebecca’s vicious, seductive femininity and yet also the place where the tenderness of true love manifests itself.
The physical symbolism of the estate likewise functions to establish the harsh binary opposition between Rebecca and the young new wife. Epitomized by the tame flower garden versus the wild, relentless torrent of the sea, the virginal young girl could not be a more polar opposite from the raw sensual power wielded by Rebecca even after her death. Such a dichotomy appeals unfailingly to women because it is a struggle all women confront in their lifetimes, the pursuit of the feminine ideal, and the ardent desire for male approval. Rebecca’s distinctive ability to address the age-old question of femininity and the struggle of women to achieve it is a testament to a time of transition both historically and fictionally. In essence, despite criticism of the romance genre as trite and demeaning, it in fact deserves recognition in history as a springboard of popular discussion of the societal and sexual role of women.
Waldman, Diane. “‘At Last I Can Tell It to Someone!’: Feminine Point of View and Subjectivity in the Gothic Romance Film of the 1940’s.” Cinema Journal, Vol. 23, No. 2 (Winter, 1984), pp. 29-40.
During the period from 1940-48, Gothic romance films were produced by virtually every major Hollywood studio, using stars and famous directors. Women were a major target of the film industry, as this period historically constituted a transition to increased sexual freedom, the introduction of birth control, and the possibility of a life separate from domesticity. It was this role definition which served as the societal precondition which allowed for the success of the Gothic romance films of the 1940’s.
A paradigmatic feature of Gothic film is deliberate ambiguity regarding the interpretation of happenings by the characters. This is a hallmark quality shared by horror and fantasy films, however, in the Gothic variety, this hesitation is often experienced by a female protagonist, and her ultimate decision is thus a commentary on the feminine experience. The Gothic romance film is therefore the first major example of the growing perception and portrayal of the female perspective, especially regarding men. Constructing the common thematical framework of the heroine’s isolation, women’s restriction to the domestic sphere is often condemned, yet the heroine is still persistently rescued by some form of authoritative man. The typical 1940’s American family was semi-patriarchal, encompassing a nominal decrease in the husband’s authoritarian power, yet retaining the sexual division of labor, which translates seamlessly to the feminine portrayals in Gothic films. Hence, it is obvious that Gothic romance films mark the beginning of the transition to more widespread acknowledgement and understanding of the female position in society, but the genre by no means grants women the credibility and freedom they ultimately deserve.