A Withering Review

Warning: This article contains spoilers for both the book and movie. Read at your own discretion.

On Friday, Feb. 13, Emerald Fennell’s provocative “Wuthering Heights” adaptation hit the screens, raking in $82 million worldwide for its opening weekend according to Box Office Report. Droves of literature fans and romance enthusiasts flocked to the theaters hungry for Fennell’s take on what has been marketed as the “greatest romance of all time.” From what I’ve seen online, some people who haven’t read the book enjoyed it. For many others, that was not the case.

Being an English major, I hold my precious classic novels close to my heart. It can be exciting when these stories are adapted for the screen and made accessible to a wide audience. However, it becomes intellectually painful when the stories are stripped of their central themes and reduced to the concept of an “adaptation,” as "Wuthering Heights” has been.

I already had low expectations going into the film from the intense marketing showcasing Cathy and Heathcliff’s erotic romance, to the casting of Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff. Yet somehow, as the movie progressed before my tearful eyes, it was far worse than I could have predicted. 

One of my main issues with the film is the storytelling, or lack thereof. The film is centered around approximately three of the most romantic (when taken out of context) passages in the novel, romanticizing Cathy and Heathcliff’s frankly toxic dynamic. In doing so, many essential character traits of everyone portrayed in the movie are grossly altered to fit into Fennell’s perception of their romance. Because of this, the characters come off as flat and underdeveloped.

One of the most defining characteristics of Cathy as a child is her feral, and sometimes menacing, behavior. In my opinion, young Cathy was too put-together in the movie for her friendship with the rugged Heathcliff to be believable. After she sprains her ankle and stays with the Lintons, she returns a refined young lady, the complete opposite of the girl Heathcliff knew and befriended. This is incredibly relevant to the novel’s commentary on class and the role women are expected to play within society (i.e. what is deemed “proper” for the time period). Instead, Fennell’s Cathy seems to return from the Lintons with an enhanced sense of her already established brattiness. 

Additionally, Fennell’s portrayal of Heathcliff’s movement from being kind, considerate, and doting towards Cathy to self-declaring his cruel and cold-heartedness is frankly hard to believe. His revenge arc in the film is underdeveloped and questionably motivated, leading the viewer to question how he went from being on his knees in front of Cathy, promising to forgive her, to chaining up his new wife like a dog. It just… doesn’t add up. Conversely, in the novel, Heathcliff’s character development happens due to the abuse he suffers from Cathy’s older brother Hindley (whose character was integrated into Mr. Earnshaw’s in the film). This abuse jades the young boy who was formerly protected by Mr. Earnshaw, a man who loved him like his own son. After Cathy marries Linton and goes off to Thrushcross Grange, Heathcliff disappears to make his fortune and take revenge on the abusive Hindley. 

While we’re on the topic of Heathcliff, we must address the elephant in the room: Jacob Elordi. Notably. Brontë’s Heathcliff is a person of color. While his exact ethnicity is not established, the description of his character throughout the novel is enough for one to be able to understand he isn’t white, unless you’re Emerald Fennell. Heathcliff’s mistreatment is steeped in racial prejudice, making the novel a commentary on race and class differences. One of the most explicit examples of the conflict in racial power dynamics is Cathy’s choice to marry Edgar Linton: a white, rich man. Casting Jacob Elordi to play Heathcliff is one thing, but Fennell’s choice to cast Shazad Latif as Linton completely subverts the racial subtext of the story.

Furthermore, one of the most important characters of the novel, the narrator Nelly Dean, is thrown into the film carelessly and made out to be the villain of the story as she keeps Cathy and Heathcliff from being with each other. In the novel, Nelly grows up alongside Hindley, Cathy and Heathcliff, which aids in her understanding of the totality of their characters. It saddened me to see her character almost disregarded and, like the others, flattened to fit into the Cathy/Heathcliff narrative to Fennell’s liking. 

Fennell’s only POC characters in the film happen to be Nelly Dean and Edgar Linton, the two people responsible for keeping Cathy and Heathcliff separated. I’m not accusing Fennell of making this a conscious choice, but I do find the dialogue it perpetuates inherently problematic, especially considering the original intent of the novel. 

The treatment of the characters strips the nuance from them, making it harder to empathize with them and their actions. The viewer’s perception of the characters feels unfairly influenced by Fennell’s direction, as if she’s telling you who to like and not like, as opposed to being able to make that choice for yourself. 

Furthermore, the narrative itself feels choppy and overly reliant on montages with Charli XCX’s music from her original record for the film. Frankly, I found the story hard to follow. As I left the theater, I found myself unable to answer the questions: what is the message of this film? What is it trying to say? 

My key takeaway was immense disappointment in the treatment of a classic story. I am a firm believer in the power of classic literature and its relevance. There is always something that can be taken from these stories and applied to the modern world. Unfortunately, this adaptation ignored the sanctity of a timeless commentary on class, obsession, and abuse to showcase Fennell’s desire to create a provocative “sado-masochistic” story. 

For those of you debating seeing this movie, purchase the novel. I promise it will be a better use of your time and money. 

By Grayson Morris, EIC