Emerald Fennell's Wuthering Heights: A Maximalist Vision with Minimal Depth
Emerald Fennell's adaptation of Emily Brontë's gothic romance Wuthering Heights emerges as a cinematic spectacle that dazzles the eyes but leaves the soul yearning for more. From the outset, it is clear that Fennell's allegiance lies not with the intricate emotional repression and inheritance themes of the beloved novel, but with a bold, anachronistic aesthetic. The film dispenses with the latter half of the book, focusing instead on a visually extravagant interpretation where Cathy, portrayed by Margot Robbie, and Heathcliff, played by Jacob Elordi, roam the Yorkshire moors in opulent formalwear, unbound by period decorum.
A Penchant for Sticky Visuals and Controversial Imagery
Fennell, known for her discourse-driving features like Saltburn, continues her trend of provocative imagery in Wuthering Heights. The film is saturated with visceral details: sweat dripping down spines, snail slime streaking windows, and pig blood staining dresses. Desire is not subtly suggested but forcefully imposed, staining every frame. An early scene captures Heathcliff licking Cathy's fingers after she pleasures herself against windswept rocks, a moment designed to shock and titillate. This brazen approach divides audiences, with some admiring the audacity in a sexless cinematic landscape, while others dismiss it as juvenile shock value.
The erotic mileage of such scenes varies, reflecting Fennell's polarizing style. Her work undeniably taps into a vibes-forward visual culture, yet it often sacrifices substance for sensation. In Wuthering Heights, the lustful vibe feels curiously muted and chilly, hampered by a lack of character depth. Robbie's Cathy, aged up from the book's 15-year-old, is portrayed as a woman discovering sexual pleasure, wide-eyed and petulant, but without a rich history. Her performance, though agile, cannot compensate for the flatness of the written character, making her pale amid the film's exuberant excess.
Character Flaws and Diminished Female Roles
Fennell's lavish visual imagination has never extended to nuanced character development, a flaw evident in her previous works like Promising Young Woman and Saltburn. In Wuthering Heights, this issue is stark. Cathy alternates between haughty and horny, beseeching and cruel, reduced to a one-dimensional vessel for the film's gaudy tableaus. Supporting female characters fare worse: Nelly, played by Hong Chau, is stripped of her fascinating unreliability from the novel, becoming merely a conniving spectator driven by jealousy. Isabella, portrayed by Alison Oliver, is depicted as a simpering, infantile figure fixated on dolls, epitomizing the film's dim view of women as rudderless and rash.
These characters are not just petty; they are child-ish, embodying crude adolescent emotions. While this might aim to critique 19th-century societal constrictions, it often feels like a fixation on prolonged girlhood for commercial titillation. The film strains for adult passions with the conviction of a teenager, resulting in a failure of romantic imagination. Despite its aesthetic excess, there is a strange small-mindedness to this adaptation, lacking the messy, contradictory substance of true desire.
Conclusion: Style Over Substance in a Gothic Romance
For all its visual bravado, Wuthering Heights under Fennell's direction is a film of surface-level sensuality. It offers sublime audiovisual stimulation, enhanced by Charli xcx's soaring synth soundtrack, but hinges on self-destructive eroticism without a solid sense of self to destruct. The result is a work that feels like elaborate dress-up rather than a profound exploration of love and loss. While Fennell's intemperate vision may defend its artistic choices, it ultimately leaves viewers with a hollow experience, craving the emotional depth of Brontë's original masterpiece.
