A distressing dispatch of letters and a sudden, suspicious death kick off “My Cousin Rachel,” but the real drama of the film revolves around a young man whose fumbling, obtuse relationship with women leads to tragedy. Those coming to this effectively handsome adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier’s novel looking for a period potboiler will be receiving something quite different, a film whose horror lies in a society where women aren’t heard, but only sought as companions and property.
When Philip’s (Sam Claflin) cousin Ambrose passes away, the young man is shattered. Cared for by Ambrose since his parents passed away as a child, Philip once again feels a similar sensation of abandonment. However, his despair is only matched his by anger at Rachel (Rachel Weisz), the woman who won Ambrose’s heart after decades of bachelordom, but who was also accused by her late husband, in a series of secret correspondence, of poisoning him. But never attached to his will, and with nothing to gain from his death, Kendall (Iain Glen), the family lawyer, is satisfied with Rachel’s innocence, but Philip continues to seethe and is determined to use her visit to Ambrose’s estate, where he is now master, to find out the truth. Of course, best-laid plans…
From the moment Rachel arrives, she upends Philip’s every expectation: she’s beautiful, self-possessed, and acts to her own individual impulses. Of course, Philip begins to fall for her, but his naiveté when it comes to the opposite sex starts to become his undoing. Just as Ambrose before him, Philip has spent his life almost entirely free from meaningful female interaction, even as Kendall’s daughter Louise (Holliday Grainger) has not so subtly made her feelings known to her father’s client.
This inexperience, coupled with virginal lust and the bloom of young love becomes a toxic mix for Philip, one that is only exacerbated by Rachel frequently emasculating him directly or indirectly, and creates many of the film’s most enjoyable and intriguing moments. “My Cousin Rachel” really sings the harder it leans into the power play of gender and sexual dynamics between Rachel and Philip. The back and forth as he vainly tries to win her heart, and her deft dance around his intentions, is great fun to watch. When Philip says, “I’ve never seen a woman cry,” it’s a statement that reveals as much about his mystification of the female experience, as it does his motivation to risk everything he has to try and ensure Rachel’s enduring comfort and partnership.
These insights are wonderfully evoked in the script by writer and director Roger Michell, however, you do wish they had cooked at a higher temperature. The sharp edges of these interactions are often softened by the film’s obligation to period picture conventions, and are further rendered dull by the slack pacing. Equally troubling is that “My Cousin Rachel” must continually shift to the mystery brewing in the background, which is never all that compelling, and mostly conveyed with intensely shot scenes of Rachel making her terrible tasting tisanes.
Keeping the proceedings livelier than they should be are the leading duo, who both turn in strong performances. While Weisz is expectedly very good in the titular role, the real revelation in “My Cousin Rachel” is Claflin. The actor does a remarkable job of embodying Philip’s oscillating emotions with real color, from his heart-bursting moments where he’s overwhelmed with love, to his petulant, sulking moodiness when things don’t go his way. It’s a part that’s more demanding than you might think, as the audience both has to sympathize with Philip’s predicament, but understand his immaturity, and how woefully ill-equipped he is to deal with a situation that is more complex than he can possibly understand….until its too late. Meanwhile, though Grainger’s role is small, her stoicism and genuine concern for Philip, despite being rejected by him, is wonderfully played with a series of acting choices that are small, but no less impactful.
Yet, for all the strong performances and able filmmaking, “My Cousin Rachel” never quite coheres. Its observations on the secondary role of women in various societal settings, which ring with contemporary parallels, never quite come to the surface. The did she/didn’t she whodunit is never as interesting as it should be, even as various red herrings are laid in the path of the narrative. Just as Philip is nearly fearful and in awe of Rachel, Michell’s film feels similarly bound to Du Maurier’s source material. You wind up wishing that someone had spiked the tisane of the moviemakers with a bit of bourbon. [C]
