Rebecca movie plot
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Dereck 2022-03-25 09:01:06
Xifa's films are always full of mysterious Freudian homosexuality... The educated, intelligent, and beautiful Rebecca did not appear in the whole film but made one of the most attractive femme fatales, she is not decent for money and status Even in life, she just wants to win, but also to win for fun. The housekeeper is so infatuated with Rebecca that she can't accept that the hostess even fooled herself and destroyed the manor that symbolized her. Joan Fontaine, our lovely and boyish heroine, is always so vulnerable, shaking and shrugging, headlessly in love with the hero. The polarisation of men's imagination of women is roughly like this: either deified as an invincible saint (femme beauty), or as a child who always grows up. ps. Rebecca should be suffering from uterine or cervical cancer, and the manor managed by Rebecca can also be regarded as the externalization of her own uterus, which is very interesting.
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Stanford 2021-11-12 08:01:24
A nightmare when i was a kid
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Maxim de Winter: [to Rebeca] It wouldn't make for sanity, would it, living with the devil.
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Mrs. de Winter: [opening voice-over] Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. Then, like all dreamers, I was possessed of a sudden with supernatural powers and passed like a spirit through the barrier before me. The drive wound away in front of me, twisting and turning as it had always done. But as I advanced, I was aware that a change had come upon it. Nature had come into her own again, and little by little had encroached upon the drive with long, tenacious fingers. On and on wound the poor thread that had once been our drive, and finally there was Manderley. Manderley - secretive and silent. Time could not mar the perfect symmetry of those walls. Moonlight can play odd tricks upon the fancy, and suddenly it seemed to me that light came from the windows. And then a cloud came upon the moon and hovered an instant like a dark hand before a face. The illusion went with it. I looked upon a desolate shell with no whisper of the past about its staring walls. We can never go back to Manderley again. That much is certain. But sometimes, in my dreams I do go back to the strange days of my life, which began for me in the South of France.