Emerald Fennell, known for her provocative and erotic direction in Saltburn (2023) and Promising Young Women (2020), promised us a shocking, deranged, and unhinged adaptation of the already unhinged novel Wuthering Heights. However, the result is a lackluster snooze that ignores the most interesting pieces of the original Gothic novel.
Written by Emily Bronte under a male pseudonym, Wuthering Heights is a dark, haunting story populated with immoral characters you can’t help but root for. It seems exactly up Fennel’s alley of sophisticated barbarity, and the novel’s status as an English classic shows that it is more than apt for a modern adaptation. However, the cracks began to show early.
The casting was the first cause of contention. Margot Robbie, known for Barbie (2023) and The Suicide Squad (2021), hardly fits as an 18-year-old Catherine Earnshaw. Characters being aged up is common in adaptations, so one must move on and agree that not everything needs to be exactly like the novel. The film is clearly taking an anachronistic approach, as seen by the novel costuming and the Charlie XCX soundtrack. It is somewhat reminiscent of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette (2006), using modern devices to sell the historical story in a way audiences will understand and enjoy.
The casting of Heathcliff, however, can hardly be excused as a creative difference from the novel. Heathcliff’s identity as a person of color is integral to the mistreatment he faces in the novel, causing him to in turn abuse other characters when he gains power. He is often referred to with slurs used to refer to African, Indian, or Romani people at the time. While his exact origin is murky, further isolating him, it is evident he is dark-skinned and non-white from the second he enters the novel. The choice of Jacob Elordi to play the character, then, is suspect and rather disappointing– especially in 2026 when many hoped we would finally see an accurate Heathcliff on the big screen.
The casting process seems to have been race-blind, with Edgar Linton– Heathcliff’s White romantic rival whose looks he is jealous of–played by Pakistani Shazad Latif and Cathy’s maid Nelly played by the Vietnamese Hong Chau. No reference is made to their ethnicity, nor the fact that both play characters who stand in the way of the White romance at the center. While both actors do their best with the story, Edgar is simply an unassuming cuckold, and Nelly is actively antagonistic in this version of the story. It seems Fennell is blind to race to only a certain extent. Certainly, the room Edgar wallpapers with Cathy’s white skin becomes deeply uncomfortable given the ethnicity of the actors and the implications of Edgar revering Cathy’s skin tone to such an extent. Didn’t think to rewrite that one?
Aside from the unintentional discomfort caused by the handling of race, or lack thereof, in the film, Wuthering Heights hardly provides the provocative drama it promised. Both Cathy and Heathcliff are flattened out to be more likeable, this losing the wild passion that made them so interesting. All the strife that befalls them is the fault of other characters, whether it be Cathy’s drunkard father, Nelly’s jealous manipulations, or Edgar’s romantic intentions. Even the highly abusive relationship between Heathcliff and Edgar’s sister– ward, in the film– Isabella (Alison Oliver) is changed to a relationship of hearty consent and BDSM erotica. Perhaps the most shocking part of the film is Isabella being leashed up and treated by Heathcliff like a dog. Still, Fennell’s disinterest in writing screwed-up, dislikable characters is odd coming from the woman who made Saltburn, featuring Barry Keoghan’s Ripley-esque serial murderer. Wuthering Heights, in its intention to be the greatest love story, as proclaimed on all the posters, seems to have lost the edge that made it an intriguing project for Fennel and viewers to begin with.
While many may find Fennell’s writing lackluster, the same cannot be said of her direction. Much like the lauded Saltburn, Wuthering Heights is a beautiful looking film, with shots that could be aesthetic posters in a college dorm passing by like they’re barely worth commenting on. The dreary moors and lush greens of the setting have never looked better. The Linton’s crazy fun-house mansion is also a great locale with varied set decorations and intriguing oddities. Isabella’s dollhouse is a personal favorite. The Charlie XCX soundtrack, despite being completely anachronistic, does suit the moody tones of the film very well, and the costuming of leather and sunglasses additionally compliments it. Cathy’s bridal dress was a highlight. Her costumes were somewhat lackluster and dull in design, at least compared with the iconic outfits Robbie wore for Barbie.
Despite its external beauty, though, Wuthering Heights has a dull and inspired interior that does nothing to live up to the grandeur of the original novel. Fennell’s disinterest in the sexual, racial, and political implications of the book hurts the film, as the romance is nothing much without these underlying tensions exploding outwards. The film, in never making a strong statement, cannot capture the interests of the wide audience it was no doubt aiming for. Not an ideal Valentine’s Day movie nor an ideal Gothic film, Wuthering Heights likely has no place in the filmic canon.