To love and be loved, I believe, are natural human desires. Love is essential to our humanity. So what happens when those desires–when that love–is denied? And worse, what happens when we are cast aside by those we deeply love? Emerald Fennell’s latest film “Saltburn” gives us a glimpse into one of the many possible outcomes of denied love.
Set in Oxford, England in 2006, “Saltburn” follows the story of middle-class Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) who’s immersed in a world so different from his own. Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi) brings him into a utopian world of luxury and wealth, and although it is at his fingertips, Oliver can never quite grasp that world. In director and writer Emerald Fennell’s words: “Saltburn” is “what happens when you cannot touch what you want to touch.” For Oliver, everything he wants is within reach but still so far from his grasp.
From the get-go, Felix is portrayed as this all-consuming, charismatic, down-to-earth and unattainable being. He’s the kind of person every girl wants and every guy wants to be. Oliver, on the other hand, is portrayed as awkward, quirky and weird, being constantly looked down on by Felix’s friends for being “poor” and a “scholarship kid.” Despite the explicit and outright disapproval of his friends, Felix takes Oliver under his wing and even invites him to spend the summer at his home, Saltburn.
With a star-studded cast including Rosamund Pike and Richard E. Grant, Fennel creates a world of luxury in Saltburn, with grand rooms and black-tie dinners. Oliver, in his borrowed suit, finds a seat at their table and gets comfortable. Too comfortable. As the film progresses, it becomes more and more apparent that this isn’t Oliver’s world, even if it doesn’t seem that way to him. The homoerotic undertones between Oliver and Felix become more and more clearly one-sided, and ultimately rejection throws Oliver over the edge.
Oliver is an unreliable narrator, and Fennel uses his unreliableness as a way to portray how everyone can be a hero and a villain: it all depends on the perspective. As the audience, we are privy to Oliver’s inner mind, we can feel what he feels, see what he sees; but also what he doesn’t. What makes him feel welcomed appears more performative to us, what feels reciprocal appears more unrequited, and what feels to belong to him appears distant and unattainable.
The audience can see how out of place Oliver is, and how his obsession becomes all-consuming. We walk out of the theater wondering how much of a victim he truly is.
“Saltburn” is a tale of love and obsession that is mutated into drive and vengeance. Fennel leaves much unanswered, especially about Oliver, but the most important question remains unanswered: will Oliver ever be truly satisfied?