Matrixston Wow! Such a good movie.

Protraph Lack of good storyline.

SteinMo What a freaking movie. So many twists and turns. Absolutely intense from start to finish.

FrogGlace In other words,this film is a surreal ride.

calvinnme Richard Burton plays Phillip Ashley, an orphan in 19th century Cornwall who grows up in the care of his wealthy cousin Ambrose who is part a father and part an older brother to him. As Phillip grows to manhood, Ambrose says he must go abroad for his health's sake, and although Phillip asks to go with him, Ambrose asks him to stay in Cornwall and take care of the estate.While abroad, Ambrose marries somebody named Rachel. Shortly thereafter, in Florence, he takes ill and writes letters saying that he believes Rachel is trying to kill him and asks for help. His last letter is practically incoherent. Phillip sails for Florence, but it is too late. Ambrose has died and the widow has moved out the day before Phillip's arrival.Phillip goes home with hatred in his heart for the person he presumes killed his beloved cousin who has been so good to him. But he doesn't have to worry about finding Rachel to accuse her, because she shows up at the estate in Cornwall, almost unannounced. She immediately goes about charming Phillip by being quite different from what he imagined. She seems genuinely mournful over Ambrose and completely alright with the fact that the entire estate went to Phillip rather than to her, the widow. She does not intend to challenge the will, which in those times she easily could have done. This completely disarms the loyal yet naïve Phillip.What is so great about this is that even though this is Burton's film, De Havilland's Rachel steals the show just from the Hitchcockian mystery with which she fills the part. You spend your entire time wondering what is going on with this woman. I felt that despite the warmth blended with disciplined composure she seems to radiate that there was something evil and calculating just under the surface, but I just can't tell you why.Then there are all of the facts that blur matters more. Ambrose's father died of a brain tumor. The way Ambrose was behaving at the end seemed to indicate the same thing, although in the 19th century there would be no way to know for sure except maybe an autopsy. If Rachel just wanted the estate, why didn't she make sure Ambrose wrote a new will with her inheriting BEFORE she started poisoning him, IF she was poisoning him in the first place? There are other pieces of "evidence" that seem to indicate Rachel has a homicidal streak and a greedy streak as well, but I'll let you watch and find out.There are plenty of touches with noirish connections, like voice-over narration and moody black and white cinematography. I'd give this an eight if it just didn't seem like, that for all that is great about it, there is just "a certain something" missing. I can't tell you what that is, but on Turner Classic Movies the other night, when they screened this, it was said during the introduction to the film by the host that George Cukor was originally set to direct, but then Henry Koster ended up getting the job. Koster was a more than adequate director over at Fox, but just did not have the same level of craft of Cukor.One rather minor detail that I found fascinating is how Rachel seems to go in and out of mourning at her convenience. When she first appears in Cornwall she is always wearing black, but as time passes and she gets chummy with Phillip the mourning clothes go away. When Phillip tries to press her for a marriage she says she never wanted and he feels led on, the mourning clothes come back out, as if to emphasize the impropriety of the relationship that she is at least saying she feels. I don't know if it was a mistake or a nice touch, but either way, I liked it.

Errington_92 "This is what one moment of passion can bring on a man". It is the foreboding we are given from the hindsight of Philip, forever ridden with the memory of his self proclaimed blessed torment Rachel. A woman who is focused upon with great suspicion and secrecy as she places Philip in a heap of trouble. The narrative builds up to its mysterious and suspicious nature after Rachel marries Philip's Uncle before he becomes ill. This sets the mystic nature of My Cousin Rachel as the letters he sends to Philip become more erratic leading Philip to believe he is the victim of murder. As the situation with his Uncle progresses we question ourselves as to who is Rachel. This situation creates a predicament which we as the audience are attracted to. Rachel is purposely introduced in an inexplicable fashion to make us further question her character. Shot from behind our first glimpse of Rachel gives nothing away. All in black wearing a veil she makes her way into Philip's home with her back to us creating a feeling of uncertainty. When Rachel is finally revealed to us it takes ourselves and Philip off guard. Rachel greets Philip in a warm and friendly manner telling him stories of his family history as a way of making him feel comfortable around her while she secretly begins her plot.Rachel continues to perform time and time again to entice Philip into her wicked charm and it is only after Philip gives her everything he owns her delightful masquerade ends and she reveals her frank demeanour. "That was last night Philip and you had given me the jewels", Rachel states in a calm manner unashamed of her deceit. She comes across as a woman confident of her abilities indicating a deadly dilemma will follow. Although My Cousin Rachel is well known for its ambiguity it is hard not to be weary of Rachel. The way she conducts herself to others, eagerly wanting to acquaint with her former husband's friends, acting upon Philip's emotions and secret meetings with a questionable friend. All this and more makes it seem that Rachel is guilty. Yet it is this sense of doubt which drives My Cousin Rachel. It keeps us as the audience guessing just as much as the rest of the characters to the psyche of Rachel. We share a similarity with Philip as our mind is transfixed on solving the mystery. Besides from the enigma that is Rachel acting as the catalyst of the drama in My Cousin Rachel to engage the audience, Joseph LaShelle's black and white cinematography along with Franz Waxman's score brings the audience into a bleak environment full of torment and tragedy. A captivating story which is well acted by the likes of Burton, De Hillvilland and Dalton drawing the attention of the audience in with their performances but it is De Hillvilland's woman in black who leaves us with the lasting memory of My Cousin Rachel's Gothic nature.

JoeytheBrit Headstrong Philip Ashley, an orphan raised by his uncle following the death of his parents, suspects foul play when his guardian dies abroad after smuggling out letters accusing his new wife (Olivia De Havilland) of trying to kill him. However, when she visits England he finds himself drawn to her despite himself and convinces himself that his uncle died as the result of a brain tumour that made him irrationally suspicious of those he loved. Despite this, evidence to suggest she might indeed be guilty leaves him with fresh doubts.Nunnally Johnson's adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier's murder mystery does a fine job of continuously wrong-footing the viewer so that we, like Philip, can never quite decide whether the outwardly elegant and refined widow Ashley is actually a cold-blooded killer. This uncertainty compels us to keep watching as the plot's twists manipulates us into believing first one thing then the other, making for a compelling and enjoyable mystery. Unfortunately, the deliberately ambiguous ending means we are still none the wiser as to whether 'shedunnit' or not when the final credits roll.27-year-old Richard Burton cuts an imposing, Heathcliff-like figure as Philip, the brash, impulsive heir to his uncle's fortune. He was always more effective as stern, authoritarian figures, and although he gives an impressive performance that largely carries the film, at times he struggles to inject the required touch of sensitivity in its more tender moments. It has to be said that events on screen are depicted with as much ambiguity as the mystery itself, with the viewer left to surmise that Philip and the widow have indeed engaged in a sexual liaison when the film coyly moves on to the next scene. Such subtlety, to varying degrees, is also evident in the clues regarding Rachel's possible guilt (or innocence) that are provided.It's a shame that Du Maurier failed to come up with a definitive conclusion to what, until its finale, is a truly absorbing drama, but in retrospect it's apparent that to have done so would have probably required too many additional twists and revelations to make anything she came up with plausible.

fedor8 I had to laugh at the conclusion of this mystery drama! I couldn't keep a straight face at the kind of cop-out conclusion du Maurier slapped on this novel's end. Throughout the ENTIRE story she throws bundles of evidence at us, both that de Havilland (Rachel) IS guilty and that she ISN'T guilty. The reader/viewer is manipulated and lead on like an obedient little dog to sniff out every little clue which du "Agatha Christie" Maurier points to, and like a good little doggy we, the viewers, follow the clues, thinking - as it turns out - very naively that the clues will lead us to a bone, i.e. to a reasonable, logical conclusion to the complex mystery of Rachel's past, her intentions, and whether she killed Burton's relative or not.But what happens at the end? Burton, being convinced of her guilt, arranges an "accident" which kills her, but moments before she dies he suddenly gets (yet another) clue - one that seems to suggest her innocence. The last scene is Burton looking at the sea-shore, telling himself how he will never find out whether she was guilty or not. What a cop-out. Sure, one can argue that it's the kind of mysterious ending that is suitable to a story full of mystery and heavy contradictions, and I have nothing against endings that are ambiguous. However, the major problem with this is that du Maurier gives us very strong arguments to support Rachel's innocence, as well as bombarding us with enough evidence and clues that point to her guilt to make a black L.A. jury convict ten O.J. Simpsons. In other words, Rachel can be neither innocent nor guilty - as absurd as that sounds; whichever conclusion one prefers - there is too much info pointing in the other direction. And that is exactly why the ending is without an answer; my belief is that the writer herself didn't so much strive for a mysterious, romantic, ambiguous ending so much as strive for a way to conclude the book which enables her to escape the trappings of her own illogicalities and inconsistencies. She had realized what a mess she had written - as far as common sense and logic were concerned - and knew that a clear-cut ending wouldn't make any sense. She cons the viewer into attentively following the story, as the latter waits for a reasonable explanation. In that way she succeeds; after all, the story keeps your attention, and the interest actually grows.The evidence pointing to de Havilland's innocence is not as abundant as that pointing towards her guilt, but it can be considered sufficient: 1) she does not sue for her late husband's assets (though this can be explained away as a refined tactic of hers - but I think it's too far-fetched to explain it away like that), 2) de Havilland shows genuine care for Burton's mental instability - during his illness - when she makes a rather worried and sad facial expression at a time when no one was watching her (so there was no point in faking it), 3) the letter which Burton finds at the end.The case for her guilt is more voluminous, though: 1) she looks extremely worried about Burton having received her late husband's secret letters: worried in a rather guilty-looking way, 2) the highly suspicious poisonous(?) seed which grew both in the garden at Burton's villa, and Rachel's home in Italy, and which Burton even finds in a hidden(?) envelope (this last scene makes her look extremely suspicious - it isn't common to send seeds through mail), 3) the way she suddenly changes her tone toward Burton once she inherits everything - and this sudden change CANNOT be explained away by the fact that she was perhaps annoyed by his sudden and public marriage proposal (which may or may not have taken place the night before - even this du Maurier can't or won't tell us), 4) the way she offers Burton a cup of her own tea, but won't drink it herself - and throws it in the grass - after he asks her to drink it herself, 5) she then comes to him with another highly suspicious liquid concoction, and even tells him that he must drink it when she leaves (though this can perhaps be explained away by her worry about his condition - but that's a rather shaky argument), 6) her suspicious past - rumours or not, she seems to have at least some skeletons - which includes: a) the one about her having lost her first husband in a duel between him and her lover, b) having large debts, and living beyond her means, c) any two-time widow in her mid-30s is suspicious unless your name is Anna Nicole Smith, d) her immediate over-drawing of money from her bank-account, the moment she received Burton's first generous payment, e) her sending of big amounts of money to Italy.A lot of the clues which point in one way or another depended less on the story than on de Havilland's acting; the facial expressions she makes in some key situations alternately show both guilt and innocence. The fact that she reacts in ways that both make her look extremely suspicious and innocent, alternately, is not her fault: de Havilland, like the author herself, didn't herself know whether she was playing a killer or not, so she had little choice in trying to act logically. Burton plays a rather naive guy in his 20s, who actually signs off all his possessions to Rachel - against the advice of his lawyer - and even tears apart Rachel's late husband's letters which are rather incriminating. He plays a guy so dumb that I figured that if she is ripping him off then he probably deserves it.The film ends with a giant scam - the cop-out - but it is nevertheless very involving, increasingly interesting, and fairly atmospheric.