Netflix’s Rebecca offers something that was sorely lacking in Alfred Hitchcock’s original adaptation; owing to the Code of the time, Daphne Du Maurier’s original ending was changed. I’ve been surprised that it’s taken so long for Hollywood or anyone else to produce an updated, ‘true’ version, in film – there have been TV series – but Netflix has done it.

I’ll refrain from saying what either Du Maurier’s or Hitchcock’s endings are just in case someone who doesn’t know them stumbles across this review, but I do expect most reading this will at least know one or the other.

To speak more broadly, to get this review properly in motion, this new adaptation is in many ways very different. It has proved controversial – many have not liked it – but then I’d question how many are basing their dislike with only Hitchcock for reference. (Though certainly any dislike here would be better than those who only know Lawrence Olivier’s version of Wuthering Heights and compare it to a newer adaptation, given how much more horrifying the book is compared to that film. What is it about Olivier and films that fundamentally change the book’s ending or story… yes, I know, the Code!)

At the risk of reiterating a well-known premise, our unnamed narrator is employed as a companion to a fairly wealthy woman and when they are holidaying in Monte Carlo, the narrator meets Maxim de Winter, a rich widower. When her employer falls ill, the narrator is taken on a number of dates by Max, who has taken a shine to her, and they ultimately end up suddenly marrying, much to the employer’s irritation and warnings. The couple travel back to the de Winter seat, Mandeley, but much of the house is a shrine to the first wife and the narrator starts to be drawn in by the obsessed housekeeper and Rebecca’s decorative influences everywhere she looks.

Lily James is our narrator character, not as much a narrator as the character is in the book, but the film follows her. She isn’t a bad choice for the job but I have to agree with other reviewers who say the character seems a little too… I’m going to use the word ‘confident’ for ease, and that due to this the character’s later decent into paranoia doesn’t quite pass muster. This is surely an issue of direction because it is all in the unspoken gestures and actions – the script itself is fine. This does, then, all mean the character isn’t always believable but I do wonder how I might have felt if I didn’t have both the primary and secondary source material so well known to me. It’s quite impossible to avoid comparisons and due to the differences the production has made, most particularly the overall look and to Max’s character – in comparison to Olivier’s, I’ll get on to that – I can’t help but wonder how this film would seem were it the only adaptation or, at least, if there had been none from Hitchcock.

Essentially, then, I do not think Lily James’ narrator is… wrong, but she had a lot already riding on her. As I wrote in my notebook, this film is about giving her more agency than Joan Fontaine’s had.

Armie Hammer’s Max is where it gets interesting. Pushed back a bit, as it were, to seem less of a presence, less important than even before, you get more of a sense of it being the narrator’s story here. However what you also get, which is, I’d say, the best aspect of the film, is a real sense that Max loves the narrator. Hammer’s Max still says that iconic line, ‘I’m asking you to marry me, you little fool’, but in this case, he actually really seems to love her, ‘fool’ aside. A lot of this is due to the fact more scenes are spent in Monte Carlo but whoever chose to put Hammer on the list for casting, deserves some points for a scoring system I haven’t created. I’ve never before felt that Max was really into his relationship. Watching this film, I do now. Hammer also makes Max more appealing in general – you can see why the narrator loves him. This said, the age gap is not apparent, which possibly has something to do with it. It does render ‘you little fool’ a little foolish.

Kristin Scott Thomas had big boots or high heels to fill in her Mrs Danvers but also nothing too fundamental to change – Mrs Danvers will always be Mrs Danvers, Hitchcock ending or not. Scott Thomas’ version of the character is not all that terrifying, mostly due to the cinematography doing a lot of the legwork and the character being updated in actions and direction to better fit our present day (there are no squealing strings or psychotic, film, looks, for example) but she is scary enough – more manipulative. Scoot Thomas also manages to humanise the character a bit, which is fascinating to witness.

The biggest aspect then, as said, is the reinstatement of the book’s ending. It also helps humanise Max (a lot of the film is about humanisation, really, which is something I came to realise while writing this review) and it is, as a result, a lot more interesting. It also allows the narrator to come full circle from being confident to vulnerable to confidence once more. She holds her own at last. And it gives Mrs Danvers more to do. In fact the only thing I wasn’t sure about was the very, very, end where the film finishes on Lily James breaking the fourth wall before the title on a backdrop breaks the contact – by the end things have changed, yet here is Rebecca’s name once again.

All in all, then, while, yes, there are ways it could have been better (I do hope we don’t have to wait another 82 years for another film adaptation) it is satisfactory. There is a lot to enjoy – Rebecca’s suite suits her to an ‘R’ and that cinematography is perfect.

I don’t think James and Hammer will be replacing Fontaine and Olivier in the popular culture, but it’s a bloody good attempt.