Cathy and Heathcliff listening to Backstreet Boys

Broadway World gives 3 stars out of 5 to Inspector Sands's production of Wuthering Heights.

For what it's worth, I think Emily Brontë would probably love this new production of her then controversial 19th century novel, Wuthering Heights. The bold new staging from Inspector Sands seems as likely to thrill audiences hungry for radical reinterpretation as it is to aleinate the traditionalists. With a bleak split level set, an intstructively updated family tree and a cast of six, Brontë's story of passionate, enduring love is deconstructed and reassembled, with prejudice and trauma at the forefront.

Ben Lewis has adapted this unruly tale in two acts, commencing with an offstage voice icily questioning the long-suffering housekeeper, Nelly Dean (Giulia Innocenti). From Nelly's perspective, we are introduced in turn to a then innocent Hindley (John Askew), his already wild sister, Catherine (Lua Bairstow), and their newly adopted brother Heathcliff (Ike Bennett). Bennett's Heathcliff is believable in both his adventurous youth and later gentility but lacks conviction where it matters most. He is ultimately more petulant than rageful and comes off as ineffectual, rendered an inconvenience in the plot rather than the ruthless romantic he could be.

The cast is completed by Leander Deeny and Nicole Sawyerr who are at their best in the second act with winning takes on the previously mentioned characters' descendants: Linton and Young Cathy.

Infused with a modern sensibility, the female characters are emboldened with agency but not presented without criticism, and the relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff is framed as a toxic, hierarchical impossibility. Additionally, it is a powerful choice to conceive Heathcliff as an African immigrant, characterising his early mistreatment and romantic dismissal with an ugly, racist sentiment, though this is scarcely followed up on.

The production's most distinctive aspect is its tone - alternately brash and absurd, though the plot rarely seems lighthearted enough to justify the comic approach. A playfully anachronistic soundtrack sees young lovers serenading each other with classic Backstreet Boys lyrics moments before a visceral depiction of corporal punishment. The laughs come more readily in the second act, when the gravity of the plot is a lesser concern, though the production's two moods still struggle to coexist throughout. Perhaps, like the story's central characters, they are inherently irreconcileable.

Lucinka Eisler's direction is rich with atmosphere and intrigue but inconsistent in its approach. We endure a violent storm instilled by swinging overhead lamps (a striking component of Ben Ormerod's lighting design) and experience Nelly's survivor's guilt via an increasingly cacophonous chorus of amplified voices. Perplexingly, pre-recorded dialogue is mimed at pivotal emotional moments in order to achieve a breathy, whispered quality, despite four largely underutilised onstage microphones being within arm's reach. There is also little to distinguish location as we shift between two neighbouring residences and despite much talk of windows, the production does without any.

Though it offers distinct stark and entertaining moments, this production is ultimately familiar of a theatre in education performance that condenses classics for school assemblies, except for the fact that it has a 135 minute duration (interval not included). Though there is some tremendous prop work with vegetables it is neither an entirely hilarious send up, in the vein of the recent, award-winning Pride and Prejudice (*sort of), nor does it blaze with a contemporary urgency it craves. (Mickey-Jo Boucher)

The Stage gives it 4 stars out of 5.

Los Angeles Review of Books features Victor LaValle’s Lone Women.

Among the few items that Adelaide takes with her is a favorite book—Anne Brontë’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (1848)—a novel about another woman making her way in a patriarchal society that views her as either pitiable or socially deviant, just as Adelaide herself is considered “queer” by those around her. The heroine of that novel, Helen Graham, also flees her home and its history of violence with a young son for whom she must provide safety and a home—in her case by masquerading as a widow and making a living through her art, two things that further alienate her from her society and its mores. What Adelaide must support, besides herself, is the terrible secret locked away in her steamer trunk, though like a child, it has needs and demands that continue to shape her new life. (John Edward Martin)

Viva Glam Magazine recommends some 'Timeless Tales with Contemporary Relevance' including

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Jane Eyre was published in 1847, and Jane was only ten years old at the start of the novel. This is one of the classics to read that can be relatable to young women. The novel takes readers through Jane’s teenage years into her early 30s. It covers her relationships, struggles, and her love for a man.

Some people have suggested that Twilight has some similarities to Jane Eyre. This may be rather a stretch, but it’s not uncommon for modern authors to draw inspiration from classic novels. Edward Rochester and Edward Cullen are similar brooding, Byronic male protagonists that fall in love with a female protagonist. They are also set in isolated locations, cut off from society. (Megan Taylor)

Singersroom lists the '10 Best Kate Bush Songs of All Time' and one of them is

1. Wuthering Heights

“Wuthering Heights” was an instant hit, reaching number one on the UK singles chart and making her the first female artist to achieve that feat with a self-written song. The song is based on the Emily Brontë novel of the same name and features Bush’s soaring vocals over a haunting melody. The lyrics tell the story of the novel’s protagonist Catherine Earnshaw and her love for the brooding Heathcliff. Bush’s unique voice and theatrical delivery, combined with the song’s eerie and atmospheric sound, make it a classic and enduring example of her signature style. (Simon Robinson)