Wuthering Heights is perhaps the most controversial film of the year, with some boasting of its evocative and daring content, while others shame the deviations from Emily Bronte’s beloved novel. Ever since I was thirteen years old and I read Wuthering Heights for the first time, I have been captivated by the dark yet enchanting story. I’ve reread the novel three times since then, once for a school assignment and twice for my own enjoyment. Something that makes Bronte’s sole novel so special is that each time you revisit it, you are able to glean a new meaning or pick up on a theme that previously was not acknowledged by you. I am fascinated with the themes of racism, classism, misogyny, and perhaps the most obvious theme—the recognition of how abusive family dynamics can bleed into every aspect of your life, long after the root of the abuse has been absent from your life.
When I first heard about Emerald Fennell’s adaptation, I was appalled that my favorite book, the book that inspired me to become an English major, was being watered down into a romantic tragedy and abandoning the racial themes that permeate the prose. My preemptive dislike for the film grew after seeing the release date was Valentine’s Day and that the costuming was modern and glamorized. All of this to say, going into the film, I was resolved to dislike it and to be able to give a confident negative review to anyone I discussed it with.
However, after I saw this rendition of my most beloved book, I was shocked to find all my expectations subverted. Fennell’s interpretation of Wuthering Heights is, from a cinematic perspective, a stunning film. The setting of the movie—an integral aspect of the novel—is exceptionally done. The Moors are foggy, moody, and aesthetic, allowing the viewer to place themselves in the world of Wuthering Heights. The setting felt powerful, almost as if the abuse that occurs is because of the place itself and not because of the people. This is compounded by my second praise of the film, which is Charli XCX’s soundtrack. I was bewildered by the choice of Charli to create the soundtrack, but once more, my expectations were subverted. The music is one of the strongest elements of the film, carrying with it the haunting, the tragedy, the fearfulness that exists in each scene and as the story unfolds. After I watched, I told one of my friends that I felt as if I was on the edge of my seat the entire time, and this feeling was provoked because of the music. The music was especially effective when Heathcliff leaves and Catherine is alone with her life of opulence and falsehood. The song that plays is “Chains of Love,” which evokes in the viewer a profound sense of loss and longing that cannot be replicated without the score.
Along with these elements, this version creates a strong emotional connection with the audience through the fleshing out of the relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine as children. While it deviates from Bronte, this build up makes the movie all the more emotional for the audience, intensifying the tragedy when we see flashbacks of the characters as children to close the movie after Catherine’s death.
As I mentioned earlier, one of the essential aspects of Wuthering Heights is how Bronte reveals the ways in which generational trauma and abuse can trickle down into every aspect of life, and this is executed in how we see each of the characters in the movie slowly become worse versions of themselves when they are around each other. When Heathcliff returns, we see Catherine devolve into a jealous and petty version of herself, and Isabella transforms into an insecure and argumentative person, aching for attention and battling with her dearest friend. We even see stoic Nelly become dishonest in her attempts to keep Catherine and Heathcliff apart.
The most valuable portrayal in the film, from my perspective, was the depiction of Catherine’s shame at her own sexuality. Because Wuthering Heights was written in a time when sex was not spoken about, there are no direct references to it in the book. But any reader can feel the palpable tension and longing between the characters, as well as how this desire is influenced by considerations of class and what is considered proper in society. Something I found particularly valuable is how Emerald Fennell illustrates how women of this period (and still today) feel ashamed of their sexuality and desires. This is beautifully done in the symbolism of Heathcliff and Catherine’s first pseudo-sexual encounter in the attic and also in the symbolism of Catherine’s dress being tainted with the blood of a pig when she explores these feelings she has. There are not many films that explore women’s relationship with purity culture during this period, and I personally found this interpretation of Catherine’s character to be uniquely pertinent, especially given the political climate in the U.S. right now.
That being said, this film is not without its flaws. Despite the attention to Cathy’s experience living in a heavily misogynistic period, only exacerbated by the abusive structures surrounding her, Heathcliff’s identity as a person of color is a key theme that is notably absent, which is sure to be viewed by any fan of Bronte as an injustice to her brilliant work. Further still, while Cathy’s character is greatly understood in the film, Heathcliff’s character is lacking not only because of the erasure of his ethnic identity but because of the omission of Cathy’s older brother, Hindley. In the book, Hindley is the catalyst of Heathcliff’s rage and resentment. He is constantly abused, degraded, and humiliated by Hindley, who frequently reminds him of his “place,” both within the Earnshaw family as well as in the world, which is unlikely to welcome a minority and a peasant. This constant abuse is, in my opinion, the very reason why, as we see in the movie, Heathcliff’s resentment and vengeful nature overpower his adoration of Catherine. In the adaptation, however, Heathcliff’s vengefulness is reduced to his overhearing of Nelly and Catherine’s conversation after Linton proposes, in which Cathy states that being with Heathcliff would be degrading herself. This exclusion feels palpable when considering Heathcliff’s character, and it compounds the viewer’s frustration at his stubbornness towards the end of the movie, when Catherine dies without him having admitted his love for her.
While these are examples of where the adaptation fails to add enough, there are some contrasting moments that make the viewer beg that there was less. One of these moments is the degradation of Isabella Linton’s character into a human cosplaying as a dog, symbolizing her complete submission and subjugation to Heathcliff. After their marriage, there are many scenes in which we witness the debasement of Isabella, who was once a joyful and innocent presence in the family. At the movie’s close, however, there is a disturbing scene in which Nelly finds her on all fours, heeding the commands of her husband as if she were not a woman but an animal. This scene, while there is arguable merit because it does showcase how abusive relationships eventually break down those who were once full of life, feels as if it exists for the sole purpose of shocking and disturbing the audience. There are other scenes in the film in which this point comes across in far less, for lack of a better word, gross ways.
While Wuthering Heights contains its flaws, it also reveals a new perspective on the novel that shaped me into the person I am today. If you go into the movie expecting to have a deliberate and careful adaptation, you may not enjoy Fennell’s interpretation. However, if you value an adaptation that focuses on covert themes, such as sexuality and how women in particular are affected by abuse, I found this version of Bronte’s work illuminating.
It may not be a perfect or a faithful adaptation, but I believe that the movie has its own unique merit and is worth the watch if you are open-minded.