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Readtime: 4 min
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Emerald Fennell burst onto the scene with her scathing retaliation against sexual assault in the brilliant Promising Young Woman, staking her claim as a filmmaker fascinated by female-driven storytelling and characters who refuse to follow the status quo.
She followed that debut with the divisive Saltburn, which went viral for a scene involving Jacob Elordi and a bathtub (is that where Sydney Sweeney got the idea to turn her bathwater into bars of soap?).
Fennell now turns her attention to 19th-century Victorian literature with a steamy take on Emily Brontë’s haunted, misty tale. A splashy Hollywood production led by two Aussie powerhouses, “Wuthering Heights” traces the obsessive bond between Catherine Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi), an orphan taken into her family’s windswept estate.
“Wuthering Heights”: A whip-smart, bittersweet symphony
Raised in feral, brother-sister closeness, things turn combustible when the two reach maturity. What unfolds is a slow-burning spiral of obsession and lust, as Cathy and Heathcliff navigate social responsibility and toxic codependency.
Fennell herself has been candid about straying from the original text (entire characters and storylines are missing), going so far as to place quotation marks around the title.
This is not a by-the-book adaptation but a sometimes sexy, always surreal fever dream that feels a lot like being inside Fennell’s mind as she reads Brontë’s book. Robbie and Elordi are electric together. Their years-long familiarity as Cathy and Heathcliff feels genuine, established largely by the young actors (Charlotte Mellington and Owen Cooper) that inhabit the first third of the film.
What starts out as a playful friendship simmers into something unmistakably sexual. That chemistry between Robbie and Elordi sells the obsession at the story’s core, grounding Fennell’s heightened aesthetic in something emotionally credible.
Fennell subverts expectations before the first frame—a moment that plays particularly well in a packed cinema. It’s not quite as sexy as the marketing would have you believe, another act of subversion that works in Fennell’s favour.
For all the suggestions of sex, the steamiest moments are more erotic than explicit. Fennell leaves a lot to the imagination, with a montage of licking and charged glances suggesting more than is actually shown.
Is “Wuthering Heights” a date movie?
Unlike Heated Rivalry, this probably won’t make you or your partner blush, but a story about intense obsession might not be the best play for a first date. And for anyone who knows the story, this isn’t exactly a feel-good romcom.
Sensual moments are balanced with plenty of decidedly unsexy moments as Fennell explores the visceral nature of love and the gristle behind tough circumstances. Committed couples and partners are probably going to find more resonance with the clandestine romance and soulmate talk.
That being said, there’s some heavy material here that risks ending a night with your valentine on something of a downer. Leave some time after for a romantic dinner or drinks to cleanse the palate.
Fluids of almost every kind fill Fennell’s framing, from the close-ups of beads of sweat on Elordi’s back to the snail crawling up a window and characters perpetually caught in the rain.
ASMR is definitely in the mix, with a soundscape orchestrated to immerse the audience. All of the elements singularly align with Emerald Fennell’s vision, from the strong performances to the dreamlike production design, the sumptuous set decoration and the elaborate costumes.
Charli XCX’s original soundtrack gives the period-esque tragedy a contemporary pulse, underscoring all the angst. In a haunted romance where sex and death seem intrinsically linked, “Wuthering Heights” frequently teeters on the edge of being completely over the top without ever actually going off the cliff.
Fennell continues to helm visionary films wrestling with obsession and revenge within the context of class and power dynamics. Those themes echo through Promising Young Woman, Saltburn, and now into the Yorkshire moors.
Fennell conducts with whip-smart precision, and audiences willing to trust her baton will be rewarded with a bittersweet symphony. | Four stars ★★★★
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