Give it up to Emerald Fennell; she definitely knows how to push some buttons. It’s a big part of her appeal for me, even as I understand it’s why so many dismiss her work. Promising Young Woman and Saltburn were deliberately in-your-face works designed to make certain types of people uncomfortable. I dig that. But Fennell is jabbing a stick at a different audience with her adaptation, and I use that term loosely, of Emily Brontë’s classic “romance”, Wuthering Heights. Fennell doesn’t waver on her provocative, radical approach, but in this case she takes her foot off the gas…just a little. Don’t get me wrong; Cathy and Heathcliff indulge in carnal pleasures every which way to Sunday, but Fennell is also earnest about the deep desire within them both, a painful kind of need that borders on vampiric bloodlust.
The lush, widescreen cinematography and the windswept, cloudy moors of 19th-century England contribute to the overly romanticized presentation. To be fair, that’s exactly what Fennell wants: to crank up the volume, tighten the corset, and deliver a Wuthering Heights that appeals to readers of the hyper-sexualized romance novels of today. Those seeking a faithful interpretation will find that Fennell is in no such mood. She boldly takes liberties with many of the characters and all but reimagines large chunks of the book’s crucial final act. Even when these changes don’t work, the ambition itself is entertaining and worth appreciating.
Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi command the screen as Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, respectively. Fennell plays loose with the casting; the characters are teenagers in the novel. Only Andrea Arnold bothered to cast a Black actor (James Howson, where art thou?) to play the “dark-skinned” Heathcliff, daring to add a racial component to the volatile mix of sex, class disparity, and trauma. The bare bones of the plot remain the same, even if Fennell refuses to give them much room to breath. Catherine (played as a child by Charlotte Mellington) is heir to the rundown Wuthering Heights estate, ruined by her drunken, gambling addict father. In an attempt to look magnanimous, he takes in troubled orphan Heathcliff (played by Adolescence breakout Owen Cooper), who has never known a kindness in his young life. It’s why he gravitates so to Catherine, who befriends and protects him, even as he seems to be little more than a pet for her. Their bond blossoms as their home falls into chaos, becoming something that is a lot like love, but dangerously close to infatuation.
Whatever the nature of Cathy and Heathcliff’s relationship, it deteriorates over the years as she becomes increasingly obsessed with social status and economic security. Meanwhile, Heathcliff is left to be her companion and frequent flirting partner, but you can see in his eyes the worry that this is as far as it will ever go. His worst fears come true when Cathy is courted by and agrees to marry a wealthy suitor. Hearing the scornful words straight from Cathy’s mouth, Heathcliff flees into the night, only to return years later a wealthy man. Now every bit the ideal gentleman that Cathy always wanted, Heathcliff engages her in a toxic cycle of manipulation and cruelty. These two might love one another, but they love hurting each other and themselves just as much.
In every version of Brontë’s story, I’ve grappled with Cathy and Heathcliff’s truest feelings toward one another. Fennell doesn’t offer any easy answers, either. Cathy can be heartless and self-centered, not just to Heathcliff but to her companion Nelly (played by the always-great Hong Chau), then acts wounded when they lash out in return. Cathy is frequently overcome, physically, by the passionate forces brewing within her. It’s like she is both titillated and ashamed of her cravings, making her every action unpredictable.
Elordi delivers the most intimidating portrayal of Heathcliff that I’ve seen. He looks like a giant against the sleek and fragile Robbie. His voice booms, his eyes smolder, he always appears to be one errant look away from an explosion of violence. There is sweetness in him, but it is tucked away and controlled.
Elordi and Robbie are breathtakingly gorgeous, exuding sex appeal. It’s perfect for Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, which embraces anachronism in the dynamic visuals and pulsating score, complete with new music by Charli XCX. This isn’t some opulent, refined, handsome period drama. It’s messy and modern and at times quite hilarious. The best example is Alison Oliver as the cartoonishly awkward ward of Cathy’s boring husband. She starts off looking like a cold fish but eventually shifts into the funniest, and most disturbing victim of Heathcliff’s vengeance.
I’m still partial to Arnold’s faithful, if undersexed, adaptation, but it’d be a lie to say that Fennell’s Wuthering Heights didn’t leave its mark. Fennell is unafraid to take classic material and reshape it to her own devious whims, and like it or not, there is no compromise here at all. This is Fennell’s movie through and through, every calculated beat of it. One thing you’ll never be able to say is that Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is like any other. It is uniquely hers, and those who are willing to go along for the ride are going to glad that they did.
Wuthering Heights opens in theaters on February 13th.
