Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of Emily Brontë’s novel is a failure, but not because of its accuracy writes Carter Smith
Emerald Fennell’s ‘Wuthering Heights‘ starts with moaning. Of course it does. Here we go again, I thought. However I was wrong. You know what they say about assuming. It turns out the moaning isn’t sex, but instead a man being hanged. He struggles. People watch. His body goes limp. He dies. It’s quite an unsettling start. Consider my expectations subverted.
The uneasiness you feel lasts for a few good seconds until the man hanging gets hard. Then, in a fast paced sequence we see the crowd erupt into celebration, shouting and kissing.
It’s a weird start, but it sets the tone straight away. Fennel is not interested in faithful re-telling of Emily Bronte’s novel. Instead, she is going to give it her own horny twist. Those little speech marks around her title are not just there for decoration. They signify that yes, things will be changed from the book.
That’s ok. I can live with that.
But what has changed? Well, Heathcliff is now white and played by a dashing Jacob Elordi. He is a definite heartthrob, but a far cry from the “dark-skinned gypsy-looking orphan” described in the original novel.
It then largely follows suit to the original. What ensues is an obnoxious will they, won’t they? act between Cathy (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff as they both try and one up each other to make the other jealous.
He’s not bad in this role. No one is. Everyone is doing solid work. Margot Robbie is at her usual level and Hong Chau shines in moments. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but solid work.
The main issue of Fennel’s adaptation isn’t the unfaithful adaptation of the book or the white Heathcliff – although it is quite egregious – but the uninteresting presentation of her new ideas. No amount of sexual tension or pretty visuals can stop how underdeveloped some scenes play out in this movie.
Her version follows a simple formula. Sex, Charli xcx, Jacob Elordi. In that order. It’s not too dissimilar to her last outing, Saltburn, which followed the bathtub, Sophie Ellis-Baxter, Jacob Elordi formula.
It may seem an oversimplified description, but it’s got as much weight to it as these characters do. They are given no more than the most basic of stereotypes to work with and the central relationships are about as deep as a kids inflatable pool.
It all makes for a whiny 136 minute run time which fails to make you care about any of it. Scenes that are supposed to have emotion behind it feel hollow, and scenes of love flatter to deceive thanks to the one dimensional set up.
I can’t help but feel “Wuthering Heights” would be best enjoyed on mute. Cinematographer Linus Sandgren knows how to create a stunning image, and several scenes deserve to be marvelled at. Maybe it would be more interesting in a video art exhibition instead. Or, better yet, just left as a book. If Fennel wanted her version to be out in the world, she should have just posted it as a Tumblr fanfic. It’s all this film deserves.
- ‘Wuthering Heights’ is free to watch on HBO Max and Now TV
