I had low expectations going into the movie theaters to watch Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, but that didn’t prepare me for how truly boring it would be. The film was marketed as a raunchy retelling of the classic novel, but the sexy scenes were so vanilla! If you’re going to completely scrap the book, at least make the love scenes intense and fun. The movie was devoid of any substance.
The Good
Throughout the film, we see Cathy dressed up in pretty clothes fit for a doll and eating comically large strawberries, but being very unhappy. She’s portrayed as a bird in a cage, her true wild self repressed by society. Cathy, however, is also shown as vain and selfish, referring to Heathcliff as her “pet.” In a strange way, Fennel got the essence of Cathy’s character right.
The relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff is pretty toxic, which holds true in the book.
Although incredibly different than her counterpart in the books, Isabella Linton is endearingly awkward and funny. The best character in the movie, dare I say.
Lastly, the cinematography was beautiful to look at.
Now onto the less pleasant parts of the film.
The Very, Very Bad
The costumes were ridiculous! They looked as if they came straight from Spirit Halloween or the backrooms of the Barbie movie set. I get that it’s supposed to have been maximalist and opulent, but I couldn’t take Margot Robbie seriously every time she was on screen. She looked like she jumped out of a time machine from the Met Gala.
Don’t get me started on the atrocious dialogue, which oscillates between Bronte’s eloquent writing and casual 21st-century English. Pick one, Fennell!
The costumes and dialogue are the least of the film’s problems, however.
The novel explores themes of racism, classism, generational trauma, the patriarchy and redemption. It is a very dark, heavy novel riddled with abuse and morally gray characters. In my opinion, I don’t think it’s a book that should’ve been adapted into Fifty Shades of Grey fanfiction. It’s offensive.
What’s especially egregious is that Heathcliff is not white in the novel, yet Jacob Elordi plays him! It’s the 21st century! Come on, Emerald Fennell! Described as “dark-skinned,” Heathcliff is ostracized due to his low status and race by everyone except Cathy.
The decision to cast Shazad Latif, a Pakistani British actor, as Edgar Linton, the wealthy blond-haired, blue-eyed neighbor of Cathy, who dislikes Heathcliff (implied because of his race), is laughable. Am I to seriously believe Jacob Elordi, a white man, is being oppressed by a person of color? Additionally, Nelly is cast as an Asian woman and is portrayed as the antagonist of the film. Why are the victims in this film white? That leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
Emerald Fennell doesn’t seem to care. In her words, she made these changes to “recreate the feeling of a teenage girl reading this book for the first time.” Teenage girls aren’t stupid, Emerald Fennell!
The movie attempts to explore themes of sexual desire and the repression of women in the 19th century, but falls flat. In the novel, Cathy suffers an untimely, miserable death, which one could argue is caused by the denial of her desires and her true wild self. She isn’t rewarded for rejecting her desires, whereas in the film, Cathy indulges in an affair with Heathcliff (her desires), which she regrets, and then later dies. She is, instead, punished for pursuing her desires. The novel implies that denying your passions and desires is destructive and shouldn’t be expected of women.
Of course, the greatest flaw of the film is erasing the horrors of racism and the impact it has.
Heathcliff enacts no revenge on Cathy or his oppressors in the film; he’s too busy having a BDSM relationship with Isabella Linton or having sexual liaisons with Cathy (both of which never occurred in the book). The film cuts out half of the novel, where Heathcliff abuses the children of those who wronged him, creating the justice that society refused to grant. In the book, Isabella is a victim of emotional and physical abuse by Heathcliff, whereas in the film, she is portrayed as a sexually repressed woman who indulges in having sex with him instead.
I know I said the sexy scenes should have been more fun, but on a serious note, I don’t think this is the book to make into a bodice-ripping movie—it’s wildly inappropriate.
What could have been relevant commentary to today’s current political climate ends up being a lackluster, boring 50 Shades of Grey knock-off. Instead of paying to watch the film adaptation, I encourage you all to read Wuthering Heights, as the themes still ring true today.