"Wuthering Heights" 

As a doomed man gasps for breath, the hood covering his mouth expands and contracts with his exertions until the rope coiled tightly around his neck completes its task, and he dangles still from the gallows. The crowd gathered to witness the day's festivities are mostly silent and awe-struck until someone points out the dead man's visible erection, the ejaculate seeping out through the cloth of his trousers. At this, there is a great uproar and the crowd goes wild. Their suppressed excitement bubbles over into an orgiastic free-for-all as participants revel in the aftermath of this public execution in Georgian-era England.  

This opening scene pretty much sets the tone for director Emerald Fennell's "Wuthering Heights" (quotation marks hers not mine). Since I am not well-versed in the history of the UK, I am uncertain if public executions induced sexual frenzies amongst the attendees or not, nor do I know whether this scene was the introduction to Emily Bronte's beloved 1847 classic, Wuthering Heights. On the latter, I'd say probably not. With regards to the former, I'm not so sure: I've heard that such events sometimes devolved into unruly spectacles. But what do I know? I've never even read Wuthering Heights. However, just hearing all the hype and controversy preceding the release of the film sorely tempted me to give the book a serious dive before seeing the movie. I'm glad I didn't. All I knew going in was that "Wuthering Heights" is a tragic love story involving a guy named Heathcliff and his girlfriend, Cathy, as they weathered the Wuther of a tempestuous relationship that ended when one--or maybe both--of them died. I wasn't even aware that the title--Wuthering Heights--is the name of a remote, dilapidated estate on the Yorkshire moors. And what is a wuther, anyway? According to google, a wuther is a British verb describing the violent winds prevailing on the Yorkshire moors. Who knew? 

I entered the theater with no expectations or pre-judgements (as a multitude of Bronte-stans have allegedly done). In fact, if I'm being truthful, my chief reason for watching this move is because I'm a big fan of the director. In 2020, Fennell came out with the critical darling Promising Young Woman, in which a disturbed Carey Mulligan wreaks vengeance on the men she deems responsible for her friend's rape and suicide. I found the movie, and its various twists and turns refreshingly original. Later, in 2023, Fennell wrote and directed  Saltburn, a provocative and perverse very dark comedy about class warfare and unrequited love/lust. It turned out to be just my cuppa. Saltburn also marked the first time I'd seen actor Jacob Elordi on the big screen (although he'd already made quite an impression in HBO's harrowing teen drama, Euphoria, which also helped launch the careers of Zendaya and Syndey Sweeney). 

Elordi is, of course, cast as the tall, dark (but apparently not dark enough) and handsome Heathcliff, in "Wuthering Heights", with Margot Robbie's Catherine (Cathy) Earnshaw his great, true and only love. Beginning in their childhoods when an unschooled and nameless street urchin is taken in by Cathy's father, their bond is intense and soon inviolable. Selected as a "pet" for Cathy, she calls the lad Heathcliff. As fond as she is of Heathcliff, Cathy isn't particularly bothered by the fact that he is forced to sleep in the chilly loft above the stable. But then Heathcliff doesn't seem to mind, either: it's better than where he came from. Earnshaw, however, a drunken, entitled brute with nary an altruistic bone in his body has little patience for the wild antics of these children. 

The two children are always together, and Earnshaw finds it irritating that no one is paying him much mind. Issuing stern tongue-lashings to his daughter for perceived misdeeds, the old man permanently scars Heathcliff with vicious whip-lashings after the lad claims responsibility for their actions. It's worth it for Heathcliff in order to protect Cathy from her father's wrath. Cathy appreciates the boy's chivalry and feels deeply for him, yet she is spoiled and can be spiteful. While it is obvious that the Heathcliff adores her, Cathy can't help taking out her own aggressions on him. And so their childhood passes, a volatile mixture of love and conflict highlighted by the brazen cruelty of Mr. Earnshaw and the appearance of Cathy's paid companion, Nelly, who later plays a significant role in the fates of Heathcliff and Cathy.

 

As the pair evolve into young adults, Heathcliff's desire for Cathy threatens their long-standing relationship, one that transcends the boundaries of near-siblings. One evening Cathy slips up to Heathcliff's garret expecting to see him but instead finds the room empty. After hearing sounds coming from below, she peers through the floorboards and spies two of Mr. Earnshaw's servants engaged in a bit of roughhousing. It is a bit startling when the dom/farm hand snaps a whip and fits a horse's bridle over the head of a lusty housemaid before finally mounting the woman and riding them both to a rip-roaring climax. Much to her dismay, Cathy misses the grand finale when Heathcliff, who has appeared out of nowhere, covers Cathy's body with his own and places a hand over her eyes so that she can't see the goings-on directly below. Following the copulating couple's departure, Cathy appears visibly upset with Heathcliff and also a bit confused. She's exceedingly horny, and what she either can't acknowledge, or doesn't quite comprehend, is that she wants Heathcliff desperately, in fact. This is made clear when he accidentally stumbles upon her furiously masturbating on the moors shortly afterwards. Cathy claims that there can never be anything between them.  They are of different classes, and she expects someday to marry into wealth and property, after all. Nevertheless, Heathcliff takes her into his arms and--for a moment there--I thought they were going to do the deed. 

(Perhaps this is where I should take a brief moment to make an observation about the, um, indelicate situations we have seen so far (be assured, there will be more--many more). There is written evidence that sadomasochism was practiced as far back as ancient Greece, Rome and India. And don't forget about the Marquis de Sade, who produced his infamous works around the same time that "Wuthering Heights" takes place. Surprisingly--or maybe not--S&M was very popular in Victorian England, when specialized brothels were devised to accommodate those elites inclined towards such "debaucheries". Apparently, it's been going on forever. With regards to Cathy's bout of self-pleasure. Please. Humans have always done it. The greater question is did Emily Bronte do it? Was masturbation even part of her vocabulary? I'd say a definite maybe, although I doubt she included any notions of fuckery in her books. But then again, I haven't read Wuthering Heights.) 

While Heathcliff and Cathy are busy not having sex, rich milquetoast Mr. Linton moves into the lavish manse down the lane and--naturally--Cathy contrives to make the man fall in love with her. Her plan succeeds a little too well. After accepting Mr. Linton's proposal of marriage, Cathy immediately regrets her decision, which she foolishly confides to Nelly, who mostly spends the movie lurking, listening and reading books. Nelly's eyes reveal everything she feels for the Earnshaws, notably her resentment that they--a wallowing, alcoholic barbarian and his spoiled, unrestrained daughter--are held in higher esteem than she, the educated, poised bastard daughter of a lord. While Earnshaw treats her no better than a servant, Cathy looks to the older Nelly for advice while withholding the warmth of a genuine friendship. 

Nelly is unsympathetic to Cathy, failing to mention that Heathcliff stands in the doorway directly behind her when Cathy tells her that marrying Heathcliff would be "degrading". Although she adds that she loves him madly and actually probably would run off with him given the chance. Unfortunately, Heathcliff has only listened to the first half of the convo that ended with the word "degrade", so he packs bags, mounts his stallion and books it for places unknown. Cathy is shocked and angry. What can I have done to him? she moans to Nelly, who doesn't bother giving her an answer. 

The years pass and Cathy is unhappily married to Mr. Linton, a nice, boring guy who would be a more appropriate catch for his creepy, plain ward, Isabella. Fabulously wealthy, Cathy still can't get Heathcliff out of her mind. It is only after she becomes pregnant with Linton's child, that a newly prosperous Heathcliff makes his triumphant return. Spruced up and sporting a fetching earring, Heathcliff reignites Cathy's passions, even as he refuses to indulge them. Keeping himself close but tantalizing out of reach, he accepts dinner invitations to Linton and Cathy's home to both taunt and flirt with Cathy under her husband's nose. 

Heathcliff's dashing presence, by the way, does not go unnoticed by Isabella. To further complicate matters, Heathcliff purchases Wuthering Heights and sets up house with Cathy's dissipated father. When the miserable old sod dies, and Cathy gives the corpse a swift kick in the head, things take a sudden turn. Heathcliff and Cathy get over themselves and embark on a passionate affair. 

To be clear, they go at it everywhere: on the moors, in carriages, on top of desks, in the garden. Everywhere. The fact that Cathy is pregnant with someone else's child only seems to excite him further. Somehow Linton remains blissfully ignorant (or maybe not) of all this carrying-on until Nelly (of course) breaks the news to him. Naturally, this does not go over well, and Linton insists Cathy break off the affair. Heathcliff offers to kill Linton so he and Cathy can be together, but she declines the offer and sends him away. It's over, she tells him. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye. 

In a fit of pique, Heathcliff proposes to the lovestruck Isabella, who has been busy all this time swooning over him in the background. "I'll hurt you and treat you like a dog," he promises. "You can say no but if you accept, just know that I'll never love you, I'll always despise you." Apparently, this is music to Isabella's ears. Before you can say Bob's your uncle, she accepts the terms of the "arrangement". Heathcliff, it turns out, is as good as his word. Having once been abused and treated as a dog himself, he reverses roles and turns Isabella into his "pet", albeit a pet that is much unloved. When nosy Nelly drops in to check on Isabella, she discovers the woman chained up in the stable, wearing a dog collar and barking as Heathcliff instructs her to kneel and lick his boots. The appalled Nelly offers to take Isabella back to the Linton household, but Isabella simply gives her a grin and mischievous wink before continuing her ministrations to Heathcliff's boots. This scene is really rather shocking, and has rubbed some viewers the wrong way. Apparently, Isabella is not a sub in the book. Oh well, as I said in the beginning, this movie is not the book. 

Meanwhile, Cathy has fallen into disrepair and stopped eating. When she begins to look wan and refuses to leave her bed, Linton is not up for her petulance. He's been humiliated enough (although, to his credit, he still treats her kindly) Nelly advises her to pull herself together, get the fuck up and play the role she signed up for, which will soon include motherhood. Cathy answers blankly that the child is dead. Not having seen any evidence of a miscarriage, a disgusted Nelly figures that Cathy is mooning over Heathcliff and storms out of the bedroom. 

The ending comes fairly quickly after this. It turns out that Cathy wasn't kidding when she told Nelly that the baby was dead; it's just been stuck inside her body all this time and now she's developed sepsis. Yikes! As Cathy lays dying, Nelly--ever the harbinger of bad news--hustles over to Wuthering Heights to dispatch Heathcliff to Linton's house. As Heathcliff hurries away on his steed, Nelly frees Isabella and loads her into her carriage. Linton turns out to be surprisingly decent towards the man who wanted to kill him and steal his wife. He even attempts--unsuccessfully--to embrace Heathcliff when he hops off his horse and pushes his way into Linton's house. Of course, Cathy is already dead and somewhat the worse for wear by the time a devastated Heathcliff falls next to her and tries to revive her with kisses. Failing that, he recalls when they were children and he promised never to leave her. Now, he asks her never to leave him, to haunt him until the end of his days.  

Fade to black. Roll credits. The End.

This sounds like a real tearjerker but it's really not. Cheap sentiment is not Emerald Fennell's forte. Rather, she views humanity through a jaundiced lens that zeroes in on the wealthy, entitled and/or pompous. A vein of richly mordant humor runs through her films, although there is nothing traditionally funny about them. There are tragic endings, to be sure, but they never feel manipulative. A relatively young woman (40), Fennell creates films that not only reflect her own sensibilities, but those of younger adult audiences weaned on edgy fare that dares to challenge established narratives. For me, this approach feels fresh, modern and attuned to the cynical times we're living in. "Wuthering Heights" is a highly engaging film but you must be willing to accept it on its own terms (sort of like Isabella and Heathcliff). It is most assuredly not a film for purists, puritans or nostalgists. 

The uproar over Jacob Elordi's "whiteness" is really beyond my purview. Actors of various races are often cast in roles that were originally written to be another color. I realize this hasn't always been the case, and shame on us for letting it happen, but in researching this post, I discovered that Bronte most frequently described Heathcliff as a "gypsy" and "dark-skinned"--which Elordi is definitely not. But what does that even mean, really? Did Bronte envision Heathcliff as African? Asian? Black Irish? I certainly don't know and really don't care. Jacob Elordi makes a fine (and photogenic) Heathcliff, all the same. Both empathetic and sympathetic, Heathcliff's pain is palpable as he comes to realize that his and Cathy's love will always remain contentious and impossible. When he turns into a monster that mirrors the abusers from his childhood, he is, shockingly merciless as Elordi effectively mines his character's deepest, darkest depths.

In the meantime, 36-year-old Margot Robbie has also gotten flack for playing Cathy, who is 16 or 17 throughout the majority of the book. Lest you have forgotten these performances: Vivien Leigh (25) as Scarlett O'Hara (16) in Gone With the Wind, Emma Thompson (35) as Elinor Dashwood (19) in Sense and Sensibility, Leslie Howard (40's) and Norma Shearer (34) as Romeo and Juliet (18 and 13, respectively), Sissy Spacek (29) as Carrie (16), Audrey Hepburn (32) as Holly Golightly (19) in Breakfast at Tiffany's, Stockard Channing (33) as Rizzo (17) in Grease, Barbra Streisand (41) as Yentl--the list is endless, and continues to grow. Get over it. Robbie delivers a sassy, colorful performance as the fiery Cathy and I completely bought into it. Both she and Elordi seem perfectly cast as characters whose passion drives them ever closer to the edge of madness. 

Also in splendid form are the amazing Owen Cooper (breakout star of Netflix's Adolescence), playing young Heathcliff, Doc Martin's Martin Clunes, tipsy and despicable as Mr. Earnshaw, and Hong Lau as inscrutable shit-stirrer Nelly. I actually liked Lau's performance quite a lot, and recognized in her, people I have known in real life. Without naming the entire cast, all the performers acquit themselves nicely. 

Finally, there is Linus Sandgren's cinematography which flawlessly evokes the windswept, rainy countryside of rural Yorkshire circa the late 1700's. Really, I don't think I've seen this much rain in a movie since David Fincher's Se7En. But Sandgren's expert efforts render this menacing, untamed atmosphere palpable. 

While "Wuthering Heights" pushes well past the 2-hour mark, I never once caught myself looking at my watch and wondering when it would end: I was totally engrossed. Of course, some criticisms of the film are understandable (even if I disagree with them), but others seem like sour grapes. I honestly believe that the less you know about the book, the more you are likely to enjoy the movie. 

Now if only Emerald Fennell can be coaxed into offering her own unique take on The Picture of Dorian Gray, I have some casting suggestions in mind.