Wuthering Heights (2026) Dir: Emerald Fennell

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Emerald Fennell's adaptation of Emily Brönte's classic literary work; 'Wuthering Heights', seemed to evoke drama and contention even before the first trailers were released. I already held very mixed feelings about Fennell's previous film; 'Saltburn', and the worrying and frustrating media and marketing for this new film worried me greatly. Prior to the film's release, the director made a number of concerning comments about her interpretation of the book and her understanding of its themes, which did not bode well for the film, in my opinion.

I had a lot of issues with this film, but it feels only fair to talk about the things I did like about it first. Charlie XCX's original soundtrack was very good, but some of the more contemporary songs stuck out like a sore thumb. It was actually more distracting than some of the more bombastic costume designs, which actually didn't bother me as much as I thought they might. Additionally, I thought the cinematography was absolutely sublime. Fennell clearly has an eye for creating stunning images, and she knows how to frame a shot excellently. I also enjoyed her use and emphasis of colour throughout the film, particularly in regards to 'Catherine Earnshaw'.

From this point onwards, however, the film did nothing but, dare I say, drive me mad. It became very clear early on that Emerald Fennell had wildly misinterpreted the novel, and had conjured up a weird and messy counterfeit in its place. The story lacked either depth or faithfulness to the source material, instead focusing in on Fennell's now-unavoidably evident unhealthy view on romance. Her version of the story romanticised infidelity, abusive relationships, codependent relationships, and aimed to remove almost all agency or accountability from the main characters, as it pertained to their behaviour and respective fates.

Fennell promised yearning, but all I could see was lust, and clumsy lust at that. This was glorified fan-fiction; a shallow, horny, and self-serving attempt at adapting such a thematically rich story. It also all-but-ignored some of those more poignant and effective themes from the novel, further evidence that Fennell had not understood the text. And all this without talking about the awkward elephant in the room; the bizarre whitewashing of the character 'Heathcliff' - it was as bizarre as it was wholly unnecessary.

Margot Robbie is a talented actress, and some of her dialogue delivery was indeed befitting her immense talents, but it was, unfortunately, her unavoidable 'iPhone face' that detracted from her presence in the film. It was shockingly distracting, even in her character's final on-screen moments, she looked out of place in the regency-era world. That objection aside, I didn't mind her acting at all - she can cry brilliantly, and some of her outbursts resembled her character quite perfectly.

Jacob Elordi is another who I feel suffers a little because of 'iPhone face', albeit to a slightly less significant degree than his counterpart. I was more impressed by Elordi's performance than I, perhaps wrongly, anticipated. He had the Northern accent pretty much down, and was able to mix ferocity and vulnerability with consumate ease. There was one particular shot of him in the rain, towards the end of the film, that I thought was emblematic of his strengths in this film.

The supporting cast were a bit of a mixed bag, as it pertained to the quality of their performances, with Alison Oliver being at the positive end of the spectrum, Shazard Latif more towards the negative end, and Hong Chau somewhere in-between. I was very impressed, once again, by the young talent that is Owen Cooper - fresh off his excellent acting in 'Adolescence', and his chemistry with Charlotte Mellington was wonderful. She too was enjoyable in her role, albeit less convincing.

Overall, I found myself disappointed but not surprised by this mess of a film. It was, in so many ways, a frustrating viewing experience, not least of all because it genuinely could have been very good, but was dragged down by the filmmaker's incessant need to oversexualise and romanticise a story and characters that did not need it. I read a review on Letterboxd, in which somebody said that Emerald Fennell is to film what Colleen Hoover is to literature, and the similarities really are becoming extremely evident.