‘Saltburn’ Review: Emerald Fennell Throws a Brilliant Bacchanal of Obsession, Repulsion, and Desire | Telluride

Opening a film with a roar of choral singers and stylized Old English titles thrusts the viewer into a very familiar, traditional English world. But with its animations and bright red font, the titles also send up a signal that the story that follows is a blend of the old and the new–how they intersect, contradict each other, and converge for a bloody good time. In her first feature, the much debated and celebrated Promising Young Woman, Emerald Fennell displayed a talent for blending the darkness and the light and creating uncompromising images to achieve her cinematic vision, no matter how divisive. Her sophomore feature Saltburn, a delicious take on dark academia and desire, finds Fennell in her sweet spot. It’s wicked and incredibly sharp, with an even more audacious filmmaker at the helm. 

The camera follows Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) from behind as he walks through the gates and across the grounds of one of the oldest universities in the world, Oxford. Despite its Gothic and Baroque architecture and centuries-long history, the posh kids of the early ’00s now haunt the halls with their Juicy Couture velour sweatpants and cheap liquor. Oliver arrives alone amidst the groups of raucous students who don’t even notice his existence. We notice Oliver, though. He’s the film’s guide and linchpin, and he’s already told the audience that he once loved a beautiful boy, Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi). Well, he clarifies that he wasn’t in love with him exactly. How could he not be, though? In the introduction to Felix, Fennell and cinematographer Linus Sandgren (Academy Award winner for La La Land) frame him in close-up. He shines in a dreamy, indigo-hued montage like a model in a perfume ad with his arms spread out like an angel’s wings, tempting the fates to force a fall but too beautiful to slip. Elordi is a perfect fit for Felix, as he embodies the character’s presence as half Greek god, half boy in your dorm who ruins your life when he returns from a gap year. Like the film’s opening titles, Felix is classic yet modern and alive, daring you to touch him. 

It’s difficult to imagine the beautiful and popular Felix even interacting with a shy, studious loner, but a flat bicycle tire and Oliver’s eager willingness to help force an interaction. The hold that Felix has over Oliver is instantly apparent. As he kisses him on the cheek to thank him for his help, the viewer is not only exposed to a bit of Felix’s warmth and his ability to weaponize his charm but also a small dose of the implied queerness and sexual desire to come. The opening stretch at Oxford is crucial to setting up the disparity in life experiences and wealth between Oliver and the rest of his classmates, but especially Felix. Oliver confides that he doesn’t speak to his parents and that they have trouble with mental illness and addiction when Felix presses further. As the two boys grow closer and Oliver shares that he doesn’t think he’ll ever return home again, Felix invites him to his family’s estate, Saltburn, for the summer. 

Comparisons will certainly be made to Brideshead Revisited, The Talented Mr. Ripley, and even the works of Donna Tartt. Still, Saltburn does more than lift from a pre-existing playbook of literature about interlopers encroaching on the lives of the uber-wealthy. In fact, once the narrative moves to Saltburn, Fennell incorporates cinematic references to aristocracy throughout England’s history (e.g., Merchant Ivory films, Gosford Park) to misdirect the audience. Watching the Catton family and their guests reside in a place that looks as if it belongs in something more traditional and stuffy continues her clever juxtaposition between our preconceived ideas of historic aristocratic families and modern ones. When Oliver arrives at Saltburn, the camera pans out and dwarfs him, showing just how small and insignificant he seems compared to the grand estate. Felix tells Oliver that if he gets sick of them, he can leave, but this feels impossible, as if Saltburn and the people inside could swallow him whole. First, Oliver encounters Duncan (Paul Rhys), the Head Butler/Mrs. Danvers of Saltburn and Fennell establishes the film’s incredibly dry, British sense of humor. The earlier scenes at Oxford aren’t without humor, but it isn’t until Oliver’s visit to Saltburn that Fennell crystallizes the film’s specific sense of humor and modern Gothic milieu. 

Production designer Suzie Davies (Oscar-nominated for Mr. Turner) brings the gorgeous, bizarre world of Saltburn to life by incorporating small details that would usually feel out of place in an estate. A television playing Superbad and The Ring, an open bag of crisps, and a fly trap hanging from the chandelier ground the film in the early aughts but also continue Fennell’s interest in the collision of the old and the new, of the real and the unreal. This becomes even more apparent as Felix gives Oliver a tour of the estate with a lackadaisical attitude, as if he’s a frat boy leading an Architectural Digest tour, utterly unaware of his family’s wealth. Elordi’s tour is an excellent showcase of his comedic skills, as he flies past “hideous Rubens,” says hello to his Granny’s ghost, and points out the King’s Bedroom (“the sheets are still stained with Henry VIII’s spunk.”). Fennell’s camerawork here also aligns the viewer with Oliver, smartly putting us on equal footing with him as an outsider taking in this ridiculous showcase of opulence and privilege with wonder. 

The Saltburn residents of the summer include Sir James Catton (Richard E. Grant), matriarch Elspeth (Rosamund Pike), their daughter Venetia (Conversations With Friends’ Alison Oliver), Felix’s suspicious American cousin Farleigh (Archie Madkwe), and Pamela, the eccentric houseguest who has overstayed her welcome (a hilarious, red wig-wearing Carey Mulligan). Pike is a comedic genius and utter ice queen perfection as Elspeth. She nails the film’s specific tone, turning on her patronizing kindness (complimenting Oliver’s beautiful eyes) and revealing her sharp, biting opinions, including her “complete and utter horror of ugliness.” The summer starts like heaven for Oliver, as he, Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh romp around Saltburn, playing tennis in black tie, reading Harry Potter, and lounging naked in the nearby field. It’s shimmering, colorful, and all set to a perfect indie pop soundtrack. 

Saltburn is steeped in the rich Gothic tradition, and there’s something more sinister and poisonous underneath the candy-coated summer festivities. After all, death and decay are in the bones of centuries-old homes. Fennell introduces fascinating relationship dynamics with dark undertones, but the most compelling is the tete-a-tete between Oliver and Farleigh as fringe outsiders, jockeying for approval from the Cattons. At one of the Catton’s dinner parties, Farleigh humiliates Oliver by tricking him into performing “Rent” by The Pet Shop Boys. He becomes embarrassed by how the lyrics connect to his place at Saltburn (“I love you, you pay my rent.”), but Farleigh proudly takes over and finishes the song. He knows his place at Saltburn and needs to maintain his position above Oliver. Oliver also has run-ins with the observant Venetia as she traipses around the grounds like an ominous woman in white, chillingly telling him, “I liked you better than last year’s.” As Fennell’s script unfolds, the relationship dynamics become even more poisonous, and Oliver may have been underestimated. He believably seduces both Farleigh and Venetia to climb up the Catton family ladder, studies the history of Saltburn to impress Sir James, and brings Elspeth’s spiky guard down. Keoghan is fearless as Oliver, delivering the best performance of his career. He cleverly charts Oliver’s evolution as a character as he gets more comfortable inside the walls of Saltburn, only letting the audience in as much as he wants to and never revealing too much.  

Fennell and Sandgren also creatively push the envelope on historical and modern voyeurism visually. Oliver is constantly framed in windows or mirrors, a keen observer unable to cross a threshold. Not since British master Nicolas Roeg’s Gothic horror film Don’t Look Now has a filmmaker used mirrors so effectively to convey reflections and refractions of a character’s inner world, the looming threat of evil, and the truth. Fennell and Sandgren incorporate mirrors as if they’re mirrorballs, layering them, breaking them, and making the world of Saltburn even more glittering and beautiful. Sandgren’s decision to shoot the film in a boxy, 1:33 aspect ratio is apt, tempting the audience to even try to look away from the violence, sex, and debauchery onscreen. It also calls to mind an example of modern-day voyeurism shot in close-up, Instagram. 

Saltburn is a sexy (and insanely horny) portrait of obsession and what it means to have your entire world consumed by your desire for someone. Fennell knows that throughout history, people have been voyeurs, unable to peel their eyes away from images, especially those that connect them to their darkest, most primal desires. Cinema is effectively a peep show that opens a window to another world, where the historic and the modern always exist in conversation with each other. Fennell bravely holds up a mirror to the audience and says, “What if I didn’t move the camera away and just let you watch your most depraved thoughts manifest onscreen?” It’s a rich, refreshing, thrilling experience, and you won’t want to look away. 

Grade: A

This review is from the 2023 Telluride Film Festival. Amazon Studios will release Saltburn in theaters on November 24.