Review by Jon Donnis
Emerald Fennell's Wuthering Heights is not the kind of period romance you put on for comfort. It opens with a public hanging and a crowd whipped into a strange, almost ecstatic state, and from that moment the tone is set. This is a grim, sweaty, openly sexual world where love is tangled up with humiliation and cruelty. Any expectation of a gentle literary adaptation quickly disappears into the mud of the Yorkshire moors.
Set in eighteenth century England, the story follows Catherine Earnshaw, known as Cathy, and the orphan boy her father brings home from Liverpool. He is presented to her as a kind of pet, a cruel little joke that says everything about the household. Cathy names him Heathcliff after her dead brother and the two grow inseparable. Their bond is fierce and protective, formed in opposition to an alcoholic, abrasive father and a house that seems to be slowly rotting from the inside out. When Heathcliff takes the blame for them being out late and is whipped, leaving permanent scars across his back, the film makes clear that pain and devotion will always sit side by side for these two.
Years later Wuthering Heights has fallen into disrepair, dragged down by gambling and drink. Cathy sees an escape in their wealthy neighbour Edgar Linton, a textile merchant with money and status. She believes that courting him might lift them all out of misery and somehow pull Heathcliff into high society too. Heathcliff, now reduced to a lowly servant, watches this plan with jealousy and quiet rage. Fennell leans hard into the erotic and the transgressive here, filling the edges of the house and the barns with furtive encounters and overheard moments that make the whole place feel feverish.
Cathy's time recovering at Thrushcross Grange leads to Edgar's proposal, which she accepts. When she returns home dressed in finery, Heathcliff keeps his distance. In a tearful confession to Nelly, Cathy admits she truly loves Heathcliff but feels it would degrade her to marry someone so poor. Heathcliff overhears only the worst of it and rides away, heartbroken, before she can speak of how deeply their souls are entwined. It is one of the film's strongest passages, powered by regret and missed words rather than spectacle.
Five years later he returns transformed, well groomed and mysteriously wealthy. Instead of reconciliation, he brings bitterness. He buys Wuthering Heights from Cathy's father, begins an intense sexual affair with Cathy, and toys with the idea of marrying Edgar's ward Isabella out of spite. From there the drama spirals into revenge, jealousy and self destruction. Marriages become weapons. Affairs turn vicious. Cathy locks herself away and starves. Letters are burned. Illness and miscarriage follow. By the time Heathcliff arrives too late to say goodbye to her dying body, the film has tipped fully into tragedy.
There is no denying how gorgeous the production is. The costumes, the design of the houses, and the windswept moors are beautifully realised. Every frame looks carefully composed. The performances are equally committed. Margot Robbie gives Cathy a reckless, volatile edge, while Jacob Elordi plays Heathcliff with a brooding intensity that suits the character's simmering resentment. Hong Chau provides a steadier presence as Nelly, observing the chaos with quiet concern. Visually and atmospherically, it is often breathtaking.
Yet for all that craft, the film feels oddly distant from its own characters. The emotions are big, the scenes explicit and provocative, but depth is sometimes lacking. Motivations blur together and plot turns arrive without much weight behind them. At two hours and fifteen minutes, it also feels long. There are stretches where the story simply drifts, relying on handsome close ups and moody cinematography rather than momentum. It gives the impression that style is being used to cover gaps in character and narrative.
What remains is a bold but uneven experience. This take on Wuthering Heights is sexy, toxic and melodramatic, full of lust and revenge, and undeniably striking to watch. At the same time, it lacks the consistency and emotional richness needed to truly land. You admire it more than you love it.
Wuthering Heights goes on a bit, and while you can clearly see where the budget has gone, the end result feels average rather than exceptional. It is likely to appeal most to those already fond of the story.
I score Wuthering Heights a 6 out of 10.
Out Now in Cinemas
