There are two ways to watch Roger Michell’s ‘My Cousin Rachel’. One, as an adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s 1951 gothic novel and, two, as a film dealing with themes of love, lust, greed, cruelty, and sexism. The former will leave viewers disappointed and, at times, frustrated. The latter will entertain them as a visually splendid film that tells an intentionally ambiguous story with great intelligence, skill and competence. Daphne du Maurier’s novel tells a powerful story. An excellent movie can certainly be made out of the book; it was, however, not done with Henry Koster’s 1952 film adaptation, which was deemed both superficial and unfaithful to the novel. A four-part BBC adaptation gave the central character more complex treatment but failed to remain fully faithful to the novel. A 1980 Pakistani television adaptation of the novel by Haseena Moin, titled Dhund, directed initially by Shireen Azeem and subsequently by Manzoor Qureshi, was a total disaster. Several radio and stage adaptations have also failed to do justice to the book by du Maurier, who was one of the highest paid writers of her time and whose works did Alfred Hitchcock adapt thrice. Roger Michell’s film may well be the best adaptation of du Maurier’s work to date but is not the faithful masterpiece that fans of the novel have been looking for. Determinedly resolute in its desire to reinterpret the story and its characters, Michell’s film takes several liberties with its source material. Instead of focusing primarily on the character of Rachel, the film divides focus equally between the narrator of the story and the eponymous heroine of the novel. It also makes subtle changes to the narrative, alters the denouement, and adds a charming epilogue to the story. And it replaces the wonderful opening line – “They used to hang men at Four Turnings in the old days. Not anymore, though.” – with a simpler but more apposite question. Thankfully, what the film gives up in fidelity, it makes up in many other areas – most notably, acting, direction, cinematography, music, and costume design. ‘My Cousin Rachel’ an interesting, astute and beautiful film. The narrator of the story, Philip Ashley, is an orphaned heir to an expansive estate along the coast of Cornwall, in mid-nineteenth century England. His much older, unmarried cousin Ambrose Ashley raises him. Ambrose falls ill, when Philp is in his 20s, and travels to Florence to recover in Italy’s warm temperatures. While in Florence, Ambrose meets another cousin, Rachel Sangalletti, whom he marries after a brief courtship. Ambrose’s health soon takes a turn for the worse and his love for his wife soon changes to suspicion, distrust and disdain – feelings that he shares with Philip in his letters. Worried about Ambrose’s health and suspicious of Rachel, Philip travels to Florence to find that Ambrose is dead and Rachel has left the villa where she lived with her husband. Convinced that Rachel is responsible for his cousin’s death, Philip develops an intense hatred for Rachel and vows revenge upon the black widow. Things, however, take an unexpected turn, when Rachel visits the Ashley estate and Philip finds himself totally captivated by her mysterious charm. Friends and well-wishers warn him about Rachel’s dubious past and potentially sinister motives but Philip is completely besotted with his cousin. He increases her allowance, gifts her the family jewels and eventually transfers the entire estate to her name. When Rachel rejects his proposal for marriage, he is devastated and falls ill, possibly because of the herbal tisane that Rachel brews for him. Rachel evokes feelings of suspicion and doubt in everyone she meets in England. Nevertheless, Philip is determined to marry her at all costs, the misgivings others – and he – have about Rachel notwithstanding. Her motives, sinister or benign, remain ambiguous throughout the film. Quite remarkably, Michell’s film chooses to leave them a mystery even after it ends. Sam Claflin gives an honest performance as an inexperienced and earnest young man, obsessed with a woman whose person, character and motives he is not intellectually equipped to understand. Claflin makes Philip’s misery palpable, as his feelings for Rachel vacillate between love and suspicion, and he is tormented with doubt, obsession and passion. In one of her finest performances in years, Rachel Weisz portrays the novel’s enigmatic heroine with remarkable precision, verve and balance. She withholds the truth of her person – a grieving widow, a devious gold-digger, a manipulative murderess, a fortune-hunting seductress, or just a misunderstood woman – whatever it may be, with disarming charisma and confidence. Her character looms large over the film, making the ambiguity at the centre of the story both unnerving and appealing. It may be difficult to trust her but it is impossible not to sympathize when she earnestly asks, “Why shouldn’t I have a life of my own?” Claflin and Weisz have great chemistry together but, sadly, director Michell does not allow the relationship to sizzle. The minefield of emotions – alternating oedipal, romantic, sexual, platonic, adversarial, and friendly –inhabiting the relationship is never allowed to explode. Foregoing dark sexual sizzle in favour of taste, Michelldisappoints by depriving the relationship of the oomph necessary to give it more energy, complexity and life. At one point in the film, while having afternoon tea, Rachel notices butter dripping from Philip’s sandwich. “You’d better lick your fingers,” she says, in a distinctly maternal tone. The more suggestive, original sentence from the book, “you’d better suck your fingers,” is not used in the film. Tastefulness is both unnecessary and out of place here. It renders the scene flat and deprives the film of the sexual tension it so badly needs. One of the key elements of My Cousin Rachel is the clash between the Cornish town and Rachel’s world. Half Italian, polished and sophisticated, she is an alien at the Ashley estate. Dinah Collin’s superb costume design adds to Rachel’s ethereal presence at the estate. “We thought she should look like something from outer space to the Cornish locals,” says Collin of the way she decided to accentuate the clash between Rachel’s Italian sophistication and Southern England’s earthy coastline. “We went to the National Portrait gallery to establish where in the 19th century her style should be. We wanted her to look really elegant but also classic so we set her in the 1840s.” The hard work paid off in a big way. Rachel’s would be a less compelling character without Collin’s costumes. Mood is another key element of du Maurier’s novel. Rael Jones’ delightful score, using the piano, woodwinds and strings judiciously, is both romantic and ominous. It is a moving presence in a film, fuelling mysterious narrative but never taking attention away from it. Cinematographer Mike Eley’s remarkable work is another strength of ‘My Cousin Rachel’. He conveys the contrasting energy of the film’s Florentine and Conrish setting with great skill. Shallow focus, handheld camera, and unusual lighting are used with great effect to provide the right atmospheric canvas and palette for the film. Eley’s visually arresting frames expertly communicate the mood of the story, keeping a feeling of romance, mystery, and foreboding alive at all times. ‘My Cousin Rachel’ excels in many areas but its primary strength is its deft handling of the power dynamics between the sexes, in all their psychological, romantic and sexual manifestations. It presents issues that are as current today as they were in the nineteenth century. Philip is needy, selfish and petty. Rachel is confident, friendly and cultured. He is emotionally and physically cruel. She is gentle and polite. Philp wishes to control Rachel and secure her love at all costs. His motives – to own the woman he cannot understand – are known. Hers are not. His behaviour reeks of chauvinism, misogyny and sexism. She could well be an intelligent woman looking to be her own person in a society that makes it impossibly difficult for her to do so. Yet, the same people who treat Rachel with scorn consider him respectable. Michell’s decision to focus equally on the characters of Rachel and Philip is an astute one. It allows audiences to interpret du Maurier’s rich novel as one about the battle of sexes and adds a dimension, heretofore, unexplored in any previous film, television, and stage and radio adaptations. Watching the character of Philip unravel, becoming fiercely cruel in the process, while Rachel displays a calm, if insolent, composure is a sheer pleasure. And a reminder that very little has changed for women, in the last two centuries. The writer writes about culture, history and arts and is based in Dallas, US. He tweets at @allyadnan and can be reached at allyadnan@outlook.com Published in Daily Times, August 18th 2017.