By Ashley Hefner, Photographer and Staff Writer
Since Emerald Fennell’s film adaptation of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights premiered on February 13, reactions have been mixed — and rightfully so.
The film, which features high-profile actors Margot Robbie as Catherine (Cathy) Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, is surface-level gorgeous. The scenery and costumes look as if they are part of a painting. Rooms glow with saturated light, and glossy floors reflect beautiful, flowing dresses. The protagonist, Cathy, alone has around 50 extravagant costumes.
This is one aspect of the film that works. There are others, too. Isabella Linton’s character, for example, is a fantastic revision. While the book portrays her as weak, the film paints her as more aware of Heathcliff’s cruel nature. She is an active participant in the plan to provoke Cathy rather than a passive victim of Heathcliff’s machinations. She is quirky and, at times, weirdly amused by the chaos in her life. Her relationship with Healthcliff is far from healthy, but it seems more consensual in this adaptation than it does in the book. This change gives her character a subtle feminist twist, which I personally appreciated.
Unfortunately, the movie also taps into a tactic the movie industry often uses to attract viewers. This adaption relies heavily on sexuality rather than leaning into the psychological torment that defines the Gothic feel of the novel.
At multiple points, I found myself closing my eyes — not because the scenes were graphic, but because they felt weird and unnecessary. This discomfort was rooted in the sense that these moments were not helping the characters develop or advancing the plot. They were merely trying to keep the audience’s attention.
Of course, adaptations are not required to stay completely faithful to the book. It would also be extremely difficult to capture every aspect of the lengthy novel, which jumps from past to future and shifts perspectives. So I understand why this movie was bound to be different from its source material. Further, sometimes reinterpretation can actually bring about valuable additions to a story — like the revision of Isabella’s character in this film. But how far can an adaptation go before it is no longer adapting and is instead simply borrowing a work’s title and characters?
Fennell’s Wuthering Heights adaptation primarily focuses on Heathcliff and Cathy’s relationship, disregarding other aspects of the story. This would have been fine, but the relationship feels less like a thoughtful interpretation of the source material and more like a marketing strategy to attract viewers. Parts of the novel are sprinkled in, just enough to justify calling it “Wuthering Heights.” But the book’s captivating themes of psychological torment and generational revenge are pushed aside in favor of a more conventional romantic plot.
Part of the reason these choices impacted me so negatively is because Wuthering Heights is my all-time favorite book. I own multiple copies, all annotated, and I reread it year after year. I knew going in that this was an adaptation, not a recreation. Still, I hoped it would lean more into what makes this book unforgettable: the disturbing mental states of the characters, the slow-burn revenge, the all-consuming obsession.
While the book is a Gothic tragedy, the movie felt like a modern commercial romance. The obsession becomes chemistry, the torment becomes attraction and the destructive bond becomes a dramatic star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet-esque love story. Fennell’s direct mention of this classic Shakespeare play in the movie clearly demonstrates that a forbidden lovers arc is her intention. Turning a relationship based on revenge, loathing and toxicity into a provocative romance reshapes the meaning of the entire story — and not in a good way.
Ironically, the deeply disturbing scenes in Brontë’s novel could have fit perfectly with Fennell’s directive style, as her work in the past has centered around strangeness and psychological discomfort. In the book Heathcliff opens Cathy’s grave years after her death and fixates about wanting their dust to mix. He also hangs Isabella’s dog. At the end of his life, he stops eating and sleeping and welcomes death with a smile because he believes will finally reunite with Cathy. Each of these moments reveals the truly obsessive nature of the novel — yet instead of exploring them, Fennell shapes the characters into attractive, superficial lovers plagued by immature jealousy.
This adaptation is more accurately characterized as a simplification rather than a reinterpretation. It strips away the emotional depth of the characters and reframes the story as a sexual fantasy. If the goal was to create a commercial romance in order to attract mass audiences, that could have been done without attaching itself to a classic literary work. By calling itself “Wuthering Heights,” however, even if in quotations as the movie markets itself, it cheapens Brontë’s masterpiece. The title carries the legacy of a novel defined by cruelty, destructive passion and revenge, yet the film sets these aside while still relying on the recognition of Brontë’s work.
I understand that this movie is an adaptation. Even Fennell herself admits that it reflects how she personally experienced the story at 14 years old. A creative lens is fair game. What is harder to excuse is the way the movie cheapens the novel in the process. An adaptation can reinterpret without hollowing out the original, but that is exactly what this version of Wuthering Heights does.
The result is something nice to look at but really difficult to watch and appreciate. It also raises a broader question about making movies in general — when an iconic title is used, is it meant to reinterpret the original or simply sell tickets? Just because “sex sells,” does that mean it is okay to use a classic story in this way?
If this adaptation is a reflection of the standard criteria that must be met in order to make a movie, maybe Hollywood needs to rethink the quality of the stories they’re telling. Maybe we, as a society, also need to reflect on the media we’re consuming. Not everything needs to be sexual in order for it to be enjoyable or entertaining.
Photo Credit: Ashley Hefner