I will take the entire Norman Hartnell collection please. Fabulous video clips. My son is reading Rebbecca for school, but in French, this I can not imagine. He does not understand why we do not know 2nd Mrs.de Winter's name.
Hillwood is a wonderful experience. I look forward to your future comments.
Hartnell was the last fashion house I worked for shortly before it closed after its re-launch with M. Bohan at its helm. It was a dream, which I suspected would not last, come true.
these were just amazing - rebecca -my favorite book and love the movie :-) I also really love that chandelier in the 2nd clip and the mirrored door surround!
Hmm... This must be because I'm a man, and a rather crude one at that, so I'm starting with two strikes against me... fashion means nothing to me. I only mean that I feel out of place and wanted to say it... :-) but what a lovely photograph of the second Mrs. de Winter!
Is beauty necessarily art? Or must art be beautiful? :-)
Oh my god ! I did not know the house Hartnell! But when looking at those videoclips I love it! My prefered year was 1938!! Thank you for sharing this !I really have enjoyed it !
Roger-thanks for sticking with it-1 home run there! I don't ever assume that ART must be beautiful-it just must provoke. Here is my thought on things you-as photog. might appreciate. (The film itself-the color saturation, the lilacs.) The fascination with me-besides the clothes are the descriptions of the clothes. As a designer- "lavender & navy" a beautiful color story & Magenta tweed with encrusted jewels, silken printed linen-Wow, it all tells a story.As designers All-Detail,the creative force,composition. It might be like organizing a shot.No? GT
Lovely - I swoon for the '38 colletion and would wear any of those models lickety-split. Would you lunch with me in printed satin and silver fox and rambling rose? The forties show is adorable and sad. All those empty seats and the empty pockets they represent. Women must always pad their shoulders in times of crisis!
I'm just a bit sheepish about missing this, but I wasn't born in 2009 or I'd surely have run into it. (Heaven help me, if anyone knew about boytummy back then). I've innocently declared this to be my favourite movie, without even knowing the gentility of its adherents. It is quite extremely brutal toward its female lead, as so much of Hitchcock is, yet without much evolution in his sadism. He had not, of course, yet been in Hollywood very long.
Among the great movies, this is almost alone at the top of the list in lack of technical pretense, which you would think would make it hard for flickfreaks to cherish, but we do. But there is definitely a fiercely radical sensibility afoot, both in the underlying narrative and in the director's adaptation, to the effect that something extremely wrong is taking place, to the disadvantage of an irresistible innocence.
It would be complete folly to imagine a stronger portrait of neurotic menace than Olivier projects in his rôle, despite Judith Anderson's and George Sanders' dutiful soldiering on, in the most obvious ways. The fact that this menace is cloaked in erotic love is not unheard-of in English literature; but that it is so earnestly and elegantly unaware of itself, here, is quite original. That, is real danger.
But I stray. Everyone who remarks here on the actress carrying this plight is correct and only fastidiously understating the case. Joan Fontaine achieves more through incomprehension than all the film saints of her time, Garbo foremost, in intensifying the character of what is, shorn of its shimmering surfaces, ubiquitous feminine suffering. Hence the genius of her clothes, throughout; hence even Maxim's exhortation to remain secretarial. The closer she approaches matrimony, the more endangered she is.
Were the movie a catalogue of horrors, only, no one would look at it more than once. The power of the work comes from the first-person perspective of the heroine. Instantaneously established as sympathetic, resilient, and brave, she carries the movie against all knocks. Upon reflection there is an improbable plausibility in this, but Hitchcock does not allow us to feel it, because the film is edited with extreme efficiency as a continuous introduction of new layers of conceealed information. Then, too, there was Olivier's voice; there went ordinary plausibility, out the window.
There is, of course, one glaring, and quite nearly fatal flaw. The film is quite incorrect about English Cocker Spaniels. They will adopt anybody.
I will take the entire Norman Hartnell collection please. Fabulous video clips.
ReplyDeleteMy son is reading Rebbecca for school, but in French, this I can not imagine. He does not understand why we do not know 2nd Mrs.de Winter's name.
Hillwood is a wonderful experience. I look forward to your future comments.
Joan Fontaine was so lovely. A favorite movie of mine. Terrific post.
ReplyDeletealways Anon.
Hartnell was the last fashion house I worked for shortly before it closed after its re-launch with M. Bohan at its helm. It was a dream, which I suspected would not last, come true.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that Hartnell clip amazing. HOBAC- as are most dreams that come true! and fabulous too.
ReplyDeletethese were just amazing - rebecca -my favorite book and love the movie :-)
ReplyDeleteI also really love that chandelier in the 2nd clip and the mirrored door surround!
Hmm... This must be because I'm a man, and a rather crude one at that, so I'm starting with two strikes against me... fashion means nothing to me. I only mean that I feel out of place and wanted to say it... :-) but what a lovely photograph of the second Mrs. de Winter!
ReplyDeleteIs beauty necessarily art? Or must art be beautiful? :-)
Have a nice day,
Roger G., a bit lost
Oh my god ! I did not know the house Hartnell! But when looking at those videoclips I love it!
ReplyDeleteMy prefered year was 1938!!
Thank you for sharing this !I really have enjoyed it !
Have a nice sunday!
Greet
AD- Rebecca-My favorite movie-and I've seen a LOT. The atmospherics, the guileless portrayl of JF. LOVE.GT
ReplyDeleteGreet- So glad you like the post-In the Hartnell film isn't it all amazing. GT
ReplyDeleteRoger-thanks for sticking with it-1 home run there! I don't ever assume that ART must be beautiful-it just must provoke. Here is my thought on things you-as photog. might appreciate. (The film itself-the color saturation, the lilacs.) The fascination with me-besides the clothes are the descriptions of the clothes. As a designer- "lavender & navy" a beautiful color story & Magenta tweed with encrusted jewels, silken printed linen-Wow, it all tells a story.As designers All-Detail,the creative force,composition. It might be like organizing a shot.No? GT
ReplyDeleteI included the 2nd film because of the campy -asides- of the narrator. All so "of the period." had me truly laughing. GT
ReplyDeleteDear, I love seeing these clothes. So reminiscent of my three older sisters in their day, the clothes were exquisite then. M
ReplyDeleteLovely - I swoon for the '38 colletion and would wear any of those models lickety-split. Would you lunch with me in printed satin and silver fox and rambling rose? The forties show is adorable and sad. All those empty seats and the empty pockets they represent. Women must always pad their shoulders in times of crisis!
ReplyDeleteI'm just a bit sheepish about missing this, but I wasn't born in 2009 or I'd surely have run into it. (Heaven help me, if anyone knew about boytummy back then). I've innocently declared this to be my favourite movie, without even knowing the gentility of its adherents. It is quite extremely brutal toward its female lead, as so much of Hitchcock is, yet without much evolution in his sadism. He had not, of course, yet been in Hollywood very long.
ReplyDeleteAmong the great movies, this is almost alone at the top of the list in lack of technical pretense, which you would think would make it hard for flickfreaks to cherish, but we do. But there is definitely a fiercely radical sensibility afoot, both in the underlying narrative and in the director's adaptation, to the effect that something extremely wrong is taking place, to the disadvantage of an irresistible innocence.
It would be complete folly to imagine a stronger portrait of neurotic menace than Olivier projects in his rôle, despite Judith Anderson's and George Sanders' dutiful soldiering on, in the most obvious ways. The fact that this menace is cloaked in erotic love is not unheard-of in English literature; but that it is so earnestly and elegantly unaware of itself, here, is quite original. That, is real danger.
But I stray. Everyone who remarks here on the actress carrying this plight is correct and only fastidiously understating the case. Joan Fontaine achieves more through incomprehension than all the film saints of her time, Garbo foremost, in intensifying the character of what is, shorn of its shimmering surfaces, ubiquitous feminine suffering. Hence the genius of her clothes, throughout; hence even Maxim's exhortation to remain secretarial. The closer she approaches matrimony, the more endangered she is.
Were the movie a catalogue of horrors, only, no one would look at it more than once. The power of the work comes from the first-person perspective of the heroine. Instantaneously established as sympathetic, resilient, and brave, she carries the movie against all knocks. Upon reflection there is an improbable plausibility in this, but Hitchcock does not allow us to feel it, because the film is edited with extreme efficiency as a continuous introduction of new layers of conceealed information. Then, too, there was Olivier's voice; there went ordinary plausibility, out the window.
There is, of course, one glaring, and quite nearly fatal flaw. The film is quite incorrect about English Cocker Spaniels. They will adopt anybody.