Elise Roberts

Emerald Fennell’s genuine eye for visual storytelling is being held captive by her unfortunate desire to continue her attempts to write a compelling story herself. Her recent (mediocre) filmography has been inoffensive up until her decision to adapt a beloved and thematically dense novel way out of her wheelhouse. Instead of a film that mirrors the original work’s dialogue on the complexities of race, abuse, and cycles of generational trauma, these were all but ignored in lieu of her watered-down, surface-level attempts at social commentary on class and insipid mischaracterization of wildly (and in Jacob Elordi’s case, offensively) miscast roles of Cathy and Heathcliff. Fennell’s now-trademark styling of shock-value eroticism is tired and lifeless, especially in the face of a story whose intrigue lies in the space between the characters and timelines. For someone who loves to make films needlessly horny, you’d think she’d understand the importance of buildup and yearning (ESPECIALLY in a “period piece”). Like the films she’s made before, Wuthering Heights is too scared to say anything of value. Even in its attempts to paint Heathcliff as “cruel” and calloused, the film only shows us this through his consensual sexual depravity with Isabella (who, in this adaptation, is only happy to oblige). Enough to show the power dynamics at play, but not enough to keep female audiences from giggling and kicking their feet over Jacob Elordi. Even any commentary on class is spoon-fed and regurgitated. Changes to the story matter. Not the clothes, or modern music, or stylistic choices. Making your villain a person of color while Heathcliff is white makes an impact, for example! Taking out major themes and characterizations completely morphs the story into something unrecognizable and dull. Who woulda thought?!