By Keith Walther | Rose Law Group Reporter
From the silent era of film to today, there have been over 30 adaptations of Emily Brontë’s only novel that was published in 1847. “Wuthering Heights” is one of the loosest and worst adaptations you will find that pretends to be a steamy romance but comes across as more of a five-dollar romance paperback. This is a film that relies almost exclusively on its visuals, forgetting the story and characters along the way.
Out in the scantily populated countryside of 19th century England, Cathy (Margot Robbie) has always had a special bond with the family’s servant Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi), who was taken in by her alcoholic father Mr. Earnshaw (Martin Clunes). What has always been a brotherly/sisterly relationship suddenly changes when they realize how incredibly attractive one another is and there are no other options in the area. When Cathy notices the very wealthy and very single Edgar (Shazad Latif) move into the nearby mansion, however, she chooses the finer things in life instead of poverty. Slighted and heartbroken, Heathcliff seeks to rebuild himself into someone who will either steal Cathy’s heart or experience the sweet taste of revenge.
English director Emerald Fennell almost does to “Wuthering Heights” what Baz Luhrmann did to “Romeo and Juliet,” just not nearly as severe. She focuses the purpose of every scene to showcase her garish visuals rather than exploring the story or characters. In almost every frame, viewers can almost hear the director crying out, “Look at me! Aren’t I pretty?!”. To this end, the visuals are rather memorable as she achieves this dark gothic atmospheric while splashing vibrant reds any chance she gets, whether it’s in the costumes, the sky, or even with blood. The oversaturation of the color red is a simple symbolic technique Emerald uses to convey this unbridled passion between the two main characters. While this visual technique along with music provided by Charli XCX gives this old tale a more modernized vibe that will appeal to Gen Z, the plot and characters suffer.
Like the 1939 adaptation featuring Merle Oberon and Laurence Olivier, and most adaptations that followed, this film focuses on the first half of Brontë’s classic piece of literature. Only the 1992 version that stars Juliette Bincoche and Ralph Fiennes is considered to be the closest adaptation of the original source material. Obviously, with Emerald’s attention seeking sexually induced inclusions, this is one of the more flamboyant takes on the dramatic romance. However, without proper attention to the storytelling, all this provocativeness feels forced and superficial, rather than hot and steamy. She even strangely incorporates random bawdy humor with phallic and yonic symbology that is out of place and contributes no purpose.
Making matters worse, Emerald once again goes out of her way to make every single character detestable, like she did in her previous overrated film, “Saltburn.” It’s basically a depiction of self-indulgent brats sucking each other’s faces and plotting devious ways to undermine and ruin lives. Emerald fails to illustrate the truly beautiful devastation of this romantic tragedy, making the story feel more like a no-strings attached one-night stand.
In light of Fennell’s insurmountable ego to force-feed her style, the actors, while very talented, are not given much of an opportunity to provide the gravitas needed to make the film resonate on a deeper, emotional level. For Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, their chemistry seems to only exist as they do their press tour, because it is nowhere to be found on the screen. They were able to achieve a believable sibling type of vibe, but when it came to the romantic passion, it felt contrived and hollow. Even their kisses were more an exchange of saliva than a passionate display of the secret love their characters have for each other. Between Robbie’s emotionless tears and uninspired line delivery to Elordi’s excessive brooding and psychopathic behavior, their characters become a disenchanting fragment of what they are in the novel.
Ultimately, fans of the novel will likely despise this movie, while newcomers to the story will leave feeling underwhelmed and icky. “Wuthering Heights” is another classic example of style over substance with hauntingly gorgeous set pieces, costumes, and scenery that mask the emotional void. If you want to see a far superior version of this story, you’re better off streaming the 1939 adaptation.
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