There's a sense of simmering rage beneath its fetching surfaces -- the ire of a woman who's been taught that acting in her own self-interest is a subversive act, but who senses freedom so close at hand.
Daphne du Maurier may not seem like the most relevant author to be plundering for a 21st Century film script, but this accomplished cinematic rendering proves her moody, slightly confusing, dark and desperately romantic tales still have their place.
What makes [My Cousin Rachel] so engaging is that the audience never quite knows who it's cheering for. Turns out being off-balance is pretty darn exhilarating.
The film is gorgeous to look at, with a fine supporting cast of British actors etching indelible portraits, no matter how small the role. But it is Weisz's picture; she glows from within, only we're not sure if it's womanly warmth or hell-fire.
As a mid-twentieth century writer revisiting the 19th century, du Maurier played with tropes and archetypes, and in this adaptation, Rachel Weisz as the title character is a sight to behold.
A gothic moodpiece masquerading as a thriller, My Cousin Rachel is a misdirected swoon of a movie-long on black-veiled romance and ravishing atmosphere and a little short, alas, on dividends.
Throw in an impressive, imposing Cornish setting, sumptuous costuming and Rael Jones' atmospheric score and the result is a dark thriller that will haunt you for days.
Underlying it all is a strongly feminist message about power, money and male fear of what might happen if a woman should gain possession of both - agreeably subversive stuff to find in a crowd-pleasing period drama.
It takes at least 15 minutes for Rachel Weisz to appear on screen, but when she does it is a quiet, contained event. Nonetheless, the effect of her face is a payoff akin to an explosion in an action movie.
