“Wuthering Heights” Review: Emerald Fennell’s Stylish Spin on the Classic Novel is More Bodice Ripper Than Brontë Gripper [B-]

When Emily Brontë published her only novel, “Wuthering Heights,” in 1847, it was incredibly transgressive and disruptive. The violence and frank portrayal of obsession and all-consuming desire shocked readers accustomed to the mannered nature of the typical Victorian novel. When Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman, Saltburn) announced that she was crafting her version of “Wuthering Heights,” the outrage that existed nearly 200 years ago seemed to repeat itself, as readers of the beloved book and critics of Fennell’s style of filmmaking expressed their skepticism and cynicism over the proposed adaptation. However, through her first two features, Fennell established herself as a provocateur whose interests in Gothic storytelling, passion-driven violence, and death felt like a strong fit for the material, promising a fresh, bold take on a story she seemed well-suited to tell. It’s disappointing, then, that despite its stunning visuals and movie-star turn at the center, “Wuthering Heights” is a surface-level reimagining of a classic, neglecting the novel’s thorny complexity and reducing it to a simplistic romantic tragedy. 

Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” eliminates Brontë’s tricky frame-within-a-frame structure, opting instead to begin with the sounds of sex and death at a public hanging. It’s a clever trick, as at first it’s unclear if the sound is coming from an orgasm or suffering (or perhaps both), illuminating the crowd’s embrace of violence and curiosity around sex that will permeate the rest of the narrative. Fennell’s camera fixates on a young Catherine “Cathy” Earnshaw (Charlotte Mellington) as she cheers at the man’s death with a disturbing sort of delight. Soon after the hanging, Cathy’s father (Martin Clunes) brings home a young boy (Adolescence’s Owen Cooper) from his recent journey to Liverpool, telling Cathy that he’ll be staying with them at Wuthering Heights. Cathy christens him “Heathcliff” after her dead brother, and the two become fast friends, traversing the foggy Yorkshire Moors, getting into trouble, and developing feelings for each other. There’s a sweetness to the early years of their relationship, as they promise never to leave each other. Heathcliff’s origins and the impetus for his adoption are wisely kept ambiguous, but it seems that Mr. Earnshaw brings him to Wuthering Heights simply to be a family servant and personal punching bag after his alcohol-fueled mood swings. As Fennell transitions the story from Cathy and Heathcliff’s childhood to young adulthood, she focuses on the lacerations and deep scars on Heathcliff’s back, exposing years of continued physical and emotional abuse. It’s a strong introduction to one of literary history’s most complex characters, but the script cuts too many corners, leaving him largely underdeveloped.  

As “Wuthering Heights” leaps forward in time, Cathy (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) have grown even closer, and their early friendship shifts into clear romantic and physical desire. Fennell importantly depicts Wuthering Heights as an isolating place, where it seems like the residents are the only people for miles. She also notably shifts Cathy’s age from a teenage girl in the novel to a woman in her twenties who could soon become a spinster. Cathy’s age and the metaphorical cage of Wuthering Heights make the news that a new family will be moving into Thrushcross Grange, a beautiful estate a few miles away, even more exciting. The new residents, Edgar (Shazad Latif) and Isabella Linton (Saltburn’s Alison Oliver), are wealthy velvet heirs, creating a foil to the land-owning, middle-class Earnshaws. Cathy is desperate to meet the Lintons, and after she’s shocked that Edgar hasn’t called on her yet, she takes matters into her own hands and decides to spy on them in their garden. When Isabella is frightened to see Cathy’s face over the garden wall (a fun twist on one of the novel’s most famous early scenes), she falls and sprains her ankle, causing the Lintons to notice her and take her in under their wing until she’s healed. Oliver is brilliant as Isabella, injecting the film with humor and her character with naïveté that make her future even more complex than what’s on the page.  

Naturally, while at Thrushcross Grange, Cathy is enchanted by a new way of life, where she learns to become a lady, and upon her return to Wuthering Heights, she surprises everyone with her new, more polished appearance and sophistication. This change creates a further divide between her and Heathcliff, who, with his long, scraggly hair and grime under his fingernails, is far from a genteel dandy like Edgar and the life she desires. This complication is compounded by the fact that Mr. Earnshaw has gambled away all of their money, and Cathy feels pressured to marry Edgar to avoid ruin. Of course, given her love for (and newfound lust for) Heathcliff, Cathy goes to her confidante and longtime housekeeper, Nelly (Hong Chau), for advice. It’s here that Fennell incorporates one of the novel’s most iconic monologues, as Cathy tells Nelly, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” While it sometimes feels like Fennell is awkwardly shoehorning in the few romantic threads of “Wuthering Heights,” she and her actors nail the over-the-top intensity of the characters and incorporate some of their darker traits. The film adaptations of the past (namely, William Wyler’s 1939 version) ultimately feel too restrained, and Fennell understands the inherent drama in the characters’ feelings. When Heathcliff overhears Cathy’s conversation with Nelly and rides off into the crimson sunset, it evokes sweeping, epic love stories like Gone With the Wind. It’s here that Fennell’s vision comes boldly to life through the stunning, detailed creations of cinematographer Linus Sandgren (La La Land, Saltburn), production designer Suzie Davies (Saltburn, Conclave), and costume designer Jacqueline Durran (Little Women, Barbie). The film’s maximalist, anachronistic touches, including Charli XCX’s catchy hyperpop soundtrack, are what make Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” completely her own and a film that will captivate audiences. Still, they lack the thematic clarity and purpose found in stronger cinematic explorations of the past, like Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette and Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet.       

Despite the gorgeous visuals and Fennell’s ability to illustrate the characters’ intense feelings, these bold flourishes feel surface-level, masking deeper, underlying issues in the screenplay. Unfortunately, the storytelling plays it very safe, rejecting the novel’s complexities in favor of a straightforward marriage story and a love triangle we’ve seen many times before. The internal anguish that comes from marrying a man for money rather than love is a tired trope told here in broad strokes and through obvious visual metaphors (namely, cages and dollhouses). Even as Fennell’s imagination runs wild and cranks up the eroticism upon Heathcliff’s glow-up and return to Wuthering Heights, the sex in the film feels shockingly tame, especially considering the world of the film looks more like a bodice ripper than Brontë. The earlier erotic tension ultimately is more powerful, and Robbie and Elordi’s chemistry isn’t strong enough to make this feel like the kind of sex that comes after years of yearning. (Though to see the way that Elordi’s Heathcliff kisses is worth the price of admission alone.) The novel itself and previous film adaptations have been largely chaste, so it’s fun to see Fennell put her own spin on the relationship between Heathcliff and Cathy as she wanted it to manifest as a teenager. Yet still, with two gorgeous leads, creative control, and audiences accustomed to more sex than they were in the 1800s, it’s surprising that she didn’t push the envelope further. 

“Wuthering Heights” is primarily interested in Cathy’s turmoil and feeling of imprisonment in a gilded cage, and Fennell (like Cathy) neglects the goldmine at the center of the source material: Heathcliff’s wicked treachery and vengeance spun from a web of complicated trauma. Much ado has been made about the casting of Elordi as Heathcliff, given the novel’s various descriptions of the character as racially and ethnically ambiguous, but it’s worth noting that Brontë was purposefully never specific about his background. Instead, the mysterious origins and the other characters’ perception of Heathcliff as an outcast or an “other” are far more interesting details, sometimes making him feel otherworldly. Fennell only explores Heathcliff’s outsider status through social class and uses Elordi to conjure an image of a beautiful Byronic hero. This illustration is quite provocative, as the novel pushes directly up against the idea of Heathcliff as a Romantic hero. Instead of creating a book-accurate version of Heathcliff, Fennell decides to use Elordi, with his brooding beauty, to capture her own experience with the character as a young reader. Why is it that, despite the constant examples of his wickedness and vengeful characteristics, Heathcliff has become a character who is known for his deep agony and passion? Fennell plays with that inherent contradiction and, in turn, Elordi delivers a movie star performance, deftly navigating Heathcliff’s transition from outsider to a man consumed by pain to a vindictive man out for revenge, beautifully handling some of his character’s best monologues. Elordi is still let down by the script, though, as Fennell incorporates traces of Heathcliff’s cruelty and sadism, but with a crucial character absent (Cathy’s brother Hindley), the change in temperament feels extreme, reducing the conflict to a simplistic quarrel for a woman’s affection. Famously, Heathcliff and Cathy are also mirror characters, and it’s difficult to get a sense through the performances that they share one soul. Robbie is more convincing in Cathy’s more emotional, romantic moments, but doesn’t pull off her stubbornness and mean streak quite as well. Despite covering only half of the book, the movie’s most dramatic section feels rushed and lacks the sophistication and earlier foundation needed for the characters’ choices to make sense.

When Fennell released her sophomore feature, Saltburn, it notably included many images and scenes that were instantly familiar to readers of “Wuthering Heights.” It contained a Gothic frame narrative, an outcast who weasels his way into procuring a fortune, a bit of graveside necrophilia, and whispers of incest. In many ways, it was as if Fennell had already made her version of “Wuthering Heights” and didn’t wish to retread similar territory now that she had access to the rights of the novel. That feels especially true, as the film is billed as “inspired by the greatest love story of all time,” turning a tale of generational trauma into one of star-crossed lovers. Still, somehow, through its beautiful yet garish visuals and its specific intensity, “Wuthering Heights” should evoke a passionate response, especially from viewers unfamiliar with the story. But for fans of the book who can imagine what could have been, it may drive you mad.

Grade: B-

Warner Bros will release “Wuthering Heights” only in theaters on February 13.

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Sophia Ciminello

Sophia is a lifelong film enthusiast who considers herself a scholar of Best Actress winners, the films of Paul Thomas Anderson, and 1970s cinema. She hosts and produces the podcast "Oscar Wild," where she celebrates her love of cinema with retrospectives, deep dives on all 23 Oscar categories, and interviews with directors and creatives. She thanks her mother for her love of Old Hollywood and her father for letting her stay up late to watch the Oscars when she was in preschool. Her favorite Best Picture winners are All About Eve and Ordinary People. You can follow her on Twitter @sophia_cim.

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