Jacob’s effortless body language and and natural on-screen presence translated into a satisfying portrayal.He captured Heathcliff’s romantic depth and his intense sensuality. By the second half of the film, he transforms into a much darker figure driven by a thirst for vengeance — all in the name of love. His English accent sounded a bit muffled at times, however, making certain lines difficult to catch.On the other hand, Margot showcased her incredible range with an exceptional portrayal of Catherine, which is distinct from any of her previous roles. She effortlessly complemented Jacob’s intensity throughout the film — “matching his freak” — and delivered an even more haunting performance toward the end as her character became mentally and physically ill.The cast deserves credit for bringing their characters to life with such intensity.Once Catherine moves in with the wealthy and refined Edgar Linton (played by Shazad Latif), the film’s aesthetic shifts to beautifully campy territory. Production designer Suzie Davies transformed the Linton estate into a surreal environment that looks like something pulled straight out a dream.The production design screams opulence and eccentricity, perfectly mirroring the chaotic shift in the plot after Catherine’s marriage. What struck me the most was Catherine’s bedroom, which was covered in flesh-toned wallpaper complete with painted veins and freckles — a bizarre, literal tribute to her own face, commissioned by her husband.Adding to the campy essence of the film was the official soundtrack, written by Charli XCX. While she is famous for high-energy techno tracks, she took a completely different approach here.Plenty of shots were framed to showcase scenic and production design elements. I later learned that the main house where Catherine and Heathcliff grew up, aptly named Wuthering Heights, was actually an enclosed set, built specifically to allow total control over the lighting and weather. This attention to detail paid off, as the environment felt realistic and grounded.The lighting masterfully contrasted the story’s highs and lows by playing with shadows, the warm glow of the fireplace, and darkness (which was very common) to mirror the characters’ emotions.However, my favorite technical element was the editing during the final act, where the seamless transitions between their older and younger selves created a deeply emotional impact.Emerald Fennell’s interpretation of Emily Brontë’s classic novel is presented as a haunting, stylish, and unforgettable descent into to love that refuses to die.The two hours I spent in the cinema was time well-spent. Wuthering Heights was satisfying; this, coming from the perspective of a movie-goer who has not read a single word of the novel the film was based on.I give it a solid four out of five stars. While it took me through extreme highs and lows, I personally enjoyed the experience. (Rad Esguerra)
Como era de esperar, la cineasta británica, que también firma el guion, ha sacrificado la sobriedad y la complejidad de Emily Brontë para ser fiel a sí misma y a su universo hiperestilizado: a medio camino entre el fetichismo de Tim Burton, el exceso de Baz Luhrmann,y los descaros históricos de la María Antonieta (2006) de Sofía Coppola.El vestuario de Jacqueline Durran (ganadora del Oscar por Mujercitas), con tejidos brillantes y casi plásticos, convierte a Margot Robbie, esta vez, en una Barbie victoriana.Mientras que la dirección de arte de Suzie Davies vuelve tanto la casa de los Linton como la de los Earnshaw espacios abiertamente oníricos, donde incluso un dormitorio recubierto con los colores de la piel de la protagonista funciona como extensión de su encierro y de su deseo deformado.Para disfrutarla, se debe ver como una adaptación de Cumbres borrascosas hija de su tiempo, cuyo engalanado envoltorio visual, a veces placentero y otras desmesurado, sirve principalmente para reforzar la fantasía pop de Fennell.La cineasta británica insiste en el romanticismo exacerbado de la historia –"Quiero que la gente llore tan fuerte que vomite", ha dicho– y propone una revisitación pop y aterciopelada del clásico de la que, como canta Charli XCX, es fácil enamorarse una y otra y otra vez. (María Cantó) (Translation)
It’s a bold and ambitious choice to take on a literary classic and make an adaptation but this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anybody who has seen director/writer Emerald Fennell’s other films. “Wuthering Heights” (and yes it has to have the quotation marks) sits firmly in the adaptation realm and takes chunks of the Emily Bronte classic novel to wild and raunchy new heights. [...]However if you have no interest in or no prior knowledge of the Emily Bronte book, then this film is actually a totally wild and sexually charged drama set in period England. Think Bridgerton but way, way steamier and sexier. It’s obvious from the get go that Cathy and Heathcliff’s relationship is deeply rooted in co-dependency. They may have been raised like siblings but there was a secret love hidden under the surface that comes crashing out that neither of them can deny. Had it not been for Cathy’s choice to secure her future by marrying Edgar, the guilt that plagues her and the jealousy that fuels Heathcliff. These things may never have come to pass if not for those choices. There’s a montage scene, where the Charli XCX “Chains Of Love” song is used to perfectly depict Cathy’s dilemma. Whilst Heathcliff’s “glow up” from being the rough, rugged servant boy to a manicured gentleman bespoke with gold tooth begs the question of how but also who cares? His ability to leverage it to try and get what he wants is where we see the psychology of his revenge ticking over.It’s how both Robbie and Elordi manage to capture those overwhelming emotions and bring them to the screen that makes for engaging and voyeuristic watching. Their chemistry together is undeniable and becomes even more tensely charged as the film progresses. The sideways glances, and little smirks makes us feel like they’re keeping secrets, but we also know what they’re up to. The initial playfulness makes way for meaner undertones and both manage to shift their softness to cruelty and make it look so easy.The cinematography by Linus Sandgren is stunning and he and Fennell both make Wuthering Heights a moody, morose location. The house itself is imposing with its brutalist stone construction and is almost constantly howling with the wind and shrouded in rain or fog. Which is juxtaposed against Thrushcross Grange which seems so absurdist and quirky with its brash colours, high ceilings and manicured gardens. The sets are phenomenal to witness and I would love to know how much money was spent on rain machines because I expect it to be exorbitant. It also feels like the sort of film that enjoys objectifying all its main characters. Dressing them in stunning costumes by Jacqueline Durran or occasionally having Elordi with no shirt at all certainly helps.For any classic literature fans who were hoping for a more faithful adaptation, you will definitely be sorely disappointed. This is probably better suited to those who want to watch some period smuttiness with two very attractive people getting hot up on the hillsides. It’s not an entirely shallow film either as its depiction of toxic co-dependency and psychological drama are there, even if they aren’t the focus. (Trvllngjwllr)
Cumbres Borrascosas es una película deliciosa y gamberra porque, dentro del corsé que predispone la obra original, es libre y se atreve a no ser fiel. También es una versión con muy buenas ideas en lo que supone construir escenarios sexuales alrededor de los protagonistas, pero que se vuelve repetitiva y muy poco interesante en el momento en el que el amor de Catherine y Heathcliff se consuma. [...]Cumbres Borrascosas deja muy claro que es una película con la firma de Fennell desde el primer sonido. [...]Cuanto más subversiva es la película con el libro de Brontë, más fácil resulta entrar. Cumbres Borrascosas es irregular y en ocasiones está más interesada en lucir bien que en contar las cosas bien. Sus males, no obstante, son algo que celebrar: todavía tenemos a gente detrás de las cámaras que se atreve a arriesgar, aunque en esta ocasión sea más bravuconería que valentía. (Andrea Zamora) (Translation)
You see, this version of Wuthering Heights is not just a movie; it's more of a spectacle and therefore needs to be viewed as such in order to truly immerse yourself in the captivating world that Fennel has created. [...]If you're a Wuthering Heights purist, then there's a high chance you won't enjoy Oscar-winner Fennell's take on the classic tale.Her film is less of an adaptation and more a piece of lavish fan fiction gone wild. Exactly the sort of tale a young reader first being introduced to the torturous love story of Catherine and Heathcliff would concoct in their mind. Stripping away some of the nuances from the novel and deleting side characters whose storylines veer more serious and sexy in order to focus solely on the height of Cathy and Heathcliff's compelling yet emotionally abusive relationship.Fennell's movie might not be the popular literary choice, but it was the correct one to make. [...]But this is a Wuthering Heights that knows exactly how its bread will be buttered, and after promising the world a sexually charged take on this literary darling starring two of Hollywood's most compelling and headline-making stars, Fennell is hell-bent on bringing the most visceral aspects of Cathy and Heathcliff's craving for each other to life. Even inventing an opening scene for the film that strays far from the book, involving a public execution and an erection, as a way to really smack the crowd over the head with the idea that this film won't feel like your year 10 English class.It's an interesting choice that cements the unique artistic vision around this film, and thankfully, Robbie and Elordie's chemistry on screen is strong enough to drive the film through its well-practiced twists and turns.Yet since it was clearly Fennell's intention to take the most sensual and savage parts of Cathy and Heathcliff's brutal love story and blast them across the big screen in a way we have never seen before, it almost feels like she could have leaned deeper into these sex scenes and sexual innuendos if the goal all along was to shock us with where her imagination could take this well-told tale.Every sex scene in this film hits the mark, but it does make me dream of what a truly uncensored Emerald Fennell fever dream would look like on screen.As Heathcliff, Jacob Elordie is suitably smouldering even though his height, face card, and naturally deep voice are doing a lot of the heavy lifting here when it comes to creating this character.Although it's hard to ignore the fact that we are aware of his tortured inner workings because the movie blatantly slaps you across the face with it, rather than relying on an actor who is able to show it through their eyes and actions.On a different, yet more important storytelling front, it's also impossible to ignore the whitewashing of Heathcliff's character as you watch this film. In the book, there are many explicit descriptions of Heathcliff as being 'dark-skinned' and this aspect of his character folds into how he is treated by society in the novel. It's a fact that has been ignored time and time again in the many film adaptations of the book, and I can't help but think that what would have felt truly subversive in 2026 is to honour that part of the story.When it comes to Margot Robbie as Cathy, I know much will be said about her character masturbating on the moors, making a carriage shake with Heathcliff or even how extraordinary she looks in the lavish costumes while moving against sets that look like works of true art.But her portrayal of this literary heroine is much more complex than how she looks or moves in sex scenes designed to shock.With her performance, Robbie layers her Cathy with a careful cruelty and spite, allowing her to be completely unlikable when the story calls for it. At the same time, she knows exactly when to quietly switch gears and lean into Cathy's fragility and childlike innocence, showing a true understanding of the character, allowing every decision Cathy makes to look completely believable and draw you even deeper into her story.Overall, this new take on Wuthering Heights is immersive and addictive viewing, visually stunning, and created for the sole purpose of granting you a few hours of wild escapism with an audience that should refuse to stay quiet. (Laura Brodnik)
This is not a movie made for critics, nor film festival accolades, it’s not a film for everyone – it’s a film for anyone who’s been a lusty teenager, anyone who loves a bit of old-fashion yearning, anyone who’s had a forbidden crush, anyone who fancies Jacob or Margot (whose chemistry is turned up to the MAX), anyone who enjoys heaving bosoms and simmering sexual tension, anyone who wants to enjoy 2hrs 17 minutes of OTT escapism and fantasy, something beautiful and rich to look at.Fennell - who always seems to be something of a lightning rod as a filmmaker - has been explicit that her Wuthering Heights is not a faithful adaptation for purists, it’s her recollection of reading it as 14-year-old. It’s highly stylised, deliberately provocative, slightly tongue-in-cheek at moments. It is FUN. That’s what I - and I suspect a lot of cinema-goers – actually want on this weekend in February.Films that people actually enjoy, often get slated when they’re released. Dirty Dancing? ‘Predictable’ and ‘clichéd’ according to the late, great Robert Ebert’s one-star review. The Holiday? ‘Bizarrely unreal’ and ‘hard graft’ to watch, for The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw (another one-star slaughtering).Obviously, only time will tell if Fennell’s Wuthering Heights reaches the cult re-watch status of these greats, but the point is something can be considered a critical flop, but still give so much joy and delight to audiences. It’s no coincidence that these films tend to be romantic, and created for a female audience. Rom-coms, ‘chick lit’, anything explicitly made by women, for women to enjoy, is so often dismissed and scorned by gatekeepers of ‘the arts’. Wuthering Heights might be a ‘divisive’ film, but as one cultural commentator noted, ‘the hostility has been relentless’. It’s true, the criticism (including from TikTokers who haven’t yet seen the film) seems disproportionately furious. Perhaps that’s just the risk of adapting a classic text (surely, we’re all grown up enough to understand that adaptations don’t have to be faithful recreations?), or perhaps it’s par for the course for any big release (which has been promo-ed) heavily has to be subject to a backlash (see also: Saltburn, Barbie, and even Titanic at the time). (Hannah Woodside)
On the way to see the new Wuthering Heights adaption, I launched into a little rah rah speech, preparing myself for potential traumas that lay ahead—if the film stayed faithful to Emily Brontë's 1847 novel. “Get ready for some sexual assault,” I chanted quietly to myself, as I biked to the theater. “Get ready for some little dog tooooorrture!”Then, in a surprising turn for a film from writer-director Emerald Fennell (Killing Eve, Promising Young Woman), I left the theater feeling like I had just seen your average, run-of-the-mill, non-Emerald Fennell movie. Yes, it contained child abuse—but no more than in your average Disney movie. Yes, there was a public execution, a gristly hog butchering, and a finger penetrating a fish encased in aspic—but I was expecting so much worse. The sex was consensual. There was an awful lot of blood, but the effect was quite stylish.How Fennell’s Wuthering Heights came to be a pretty basic tale of two conventionally attractive, weird (but not too weird!) people who are hot for each other is a mystery. Fennell has described Wuthering Heights as a canonical text in her teenage years, and furthermore seems to have actually read the book, which is no small feat, since it’s a densely written beozar of fractured timelines, oscillating narrators, and multiple characters with the same names.If anyone could pull off a film that accurately captures the novel’s complicated vibes, it would be Fennell. Her most recent film Saltburn (2023) felt—despite its ’00s setting—like fan fiction set in a Wuthering Heights extended universe (especially the grave-fucking).This new version has any potentially sharp edges dulled even further by disregarding the fact that in Brontë's book, the character of Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) is clearly coded as nonwhite, and Elordi is a very white guy. Fennell’s choice to cast nonwhite actors in a few other roles (Hong Chau as Nellie Dean and Shazad Latif as Edgar Linton) could have added something new, but both parts are so thin that neither actor is given the scenery that they deserve to be chewing.That said, none of the roles in Wuthering Heights are particularly likable. “There is not in the entire dramatis persona, a single character which is not utterly hateful or thoroughly contemptible,” wrote one reviewer in 1848, the year after the novel was published. You could see Brontë' as the Bong Joon Ho of Victorian lit.Cultural norms have changed since then, but the book remains timelessly, omnidimensionally fucked-up—both a case study of how people can turn their bad relationship choices into everyone else’s problem and of how much abusers depend on people who seem outwardly kind and yet choose not to protect more vulnerable people or even themselves.As the final credits rolled I felt the absence of Fennell’s undelivered asshole auteur masterpiece. I was left wondering: Was this the film Fennell wanted to make? Did something stymie her? However, I was also relieved that no one had tried to strangle a dog onscreen. At a cultural moment with so much real-life cruelty, I can only take so much of the pretend kind.This adaption's cruelties (some are new!) were mitigated by the movie's absolutely bombastic production design. There was so much to appreciate. There were campy, ridiculous outfits to enjoy and an effusive sensation that the actors portraying Heathcliff and Catherine (Margot Robbie) were actually having the time of their lives, even as they were also squeezed into their costumes like little sausages. Catherine wore some truly hideous hairstyles, many of which seemed to have been inspired by Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The design for Edgar Linton’s mansion looked like absolute blinged-out insanity, like a cinematic argument to not letting anyone get wealthy enough to do that kind of decorating.Fennel’s Wuthering Heights appears destined for a long afterlife as a teenage slumber party staple. As I watched it, the earliest review came when Heathcliff appeared with a Lord Byron-meets-boy-band haircut, clad in tight pants, backlit by the setting sun. From a dark corner of the auditorium, an absolute shriek of delight rang out. I doubt it will be the last. (HR Smith)
The latest adaptation of Wuthering Heights features Margot Robbie portraying the fierce and passionate Cathy, while Jacob Elordi steps into the role of the intense and brooding Heathcliff. Set against the backdrop of the wild, windswept moors, their tumultuous relationship is as fervent as it is tragic, marked by deep emotional turmoil and a love that’s as doomed as it is magnetic.Emerald Fennell serves as both writer and director for this film, bringing to the screen a story full of desire, anger, and revenge. The narrative brims with raw emotions, including love and hatred, all underscored by numerous lustful gazes captured amidst the relentless rain. This cinematic version embraces the stormy and chaotic spirit of the original tale with a modern edge.Robbie’s depiction of Cathy is characterized by her headstrong nature and unapologetic sexuality, while Elordi’s Heathcliff embodies a moody, brooding intensity that complements their turbulent romance. Together, they navigate a passionate but unstable relationship, deeply entwined with themes of longing and vengeance that ripple through the story’s setting.
As utterly fantastic as Wuthering Heights looks and sounds — and it does look and sound like nothing currently in movie theaters — there’s still a familiar, albeit almost unreognizable, story about desperately doomed lovers, Catherine “Cathy” Earnshaw (Margot Robbie), born to aristocratic status on the West Yorkshire Moors, if not actual wealth, and the singularly named Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi), the low-born servant semi-adopted as a child by Catherine’s dissolute father (Martin Clunes) as a playmate and foil for his brattishly demanding, self-entitled daughter. [...]Literary purists will certainly have a field day with Fennell’s take, and not only because Fennell, like most adapters, leaves the second half of Brontë’s novel unfilmed. Many have already taken issue with Elordi’s casting, claiming, not without merit, that Brontë’s Heathcliff was — and always will be — ethnically ambiguous (Romani or possibly South Asian, among other possibilities). Elordi’s dark features or his ethnic background, Basque parentage by way of Australia, will do little to obviate that particular objection from certain hearts and minds, but taken on its own, as a consciously non-literal adaptation, it’s far less of an issue, especially evaluated on its own(i.e., Elordi’s performance).The age of the performers (Robie is 35, Elordi is 28) will also prove an issue for some, but far more salient is the supposedly color-blind casting of Hong Chau (The Whale) as the adult Nelly, relegated here to observer/manipulator status, and Latif as the cuckolded Edgar. Nelly’s arc suggests a sociopath-in-training, while Edgar, seemingly wealthy beyond imagination, suffers from terminal blandness. They’re both depicted as impediments or obstacles to Cathy and Heathcliff’s pure, unadulterated, “true” love. Adding the element of race here suggests that both their presence and their interference in the story somehow violate a natural order that prohibits race-mixing.Whatever Fennell’s rationale for casting Chau and Latif in key supporting roles, they’re secondary at best to the depiction of Cathy and Heathcliff as a terminally toxic couple, imprisoned by social convention and unbridled, hedonistic passion, who leave a swath of ruined or damaged lives behind before they exit the fictional mortal plane of Fennell’s Wuthering Heights.Ultimately, the Cathy and Heathcliff characters in Fennell’s Wuthering Heights are objects of pity, not admiration. And while the same can’t be said of Fennell’s film, it’s clear that Fennell made a film that her 14-year-old self would embrace with pride. (Mel Valentin)
One thing Emerald Fennell does to make her vision of “Wuthering Heights“ stand out on screen is play with the colours and design of the two homes the film takes place in with great detail. Heathcliff’s barnyard bed is a home for him as Cath’s [sic] pet, while Cath’s new bedroom in the mansion has her walls painted to look like her own skin, based on Margot’s own, freckle and all; a home for a trophy wife.Of the many wild swings the film takes, one at least works for me, which is the inclusion of a full original soundtrack album from Charli XCX. Yes, the pop songs are going to feel weird for a lot, but honestly, the editing around some of these as short music videos is one of the most interesting parts of the film, and as a huge Charli fan, it’s going to be the soundtrack that is more remembered than the film itself. (Dylan Blight)
“Wuthering Heights” serves up all the egg yolk, leeches, sweaty carriage rides, and mushrooms to create a steamy tale packed with yearning and secrets (you’ll understand if you choose to watch it). But behind the visual beauty lie some glaring flaws that book fans have already pointed out, and even without prior knowledge of the novel, I completely agree that the changes weren’t for the better.Fennell might have been better off creating an original story with a similar concept that justified its romance label. “Wuthering Heights” clearly has too many layers and important messages to disregard in a major adaptation with well-known actors, and romanticizing this kind of toxic “love” doesn’t exactly send the right message. Still, lovers of the book who are desperate to see “Wuthering Heights” should opt for the big screen experience purely for the visuals and sound alone. (Alix Blackburn)
The playful edginess in Fennell’s anachronistic screenplay seems like a half-hearted effort to subversively satirize misogynistic oppression and stuffy aristocracy. However, despite having style and attitude to spare, the book’s narrative texture becomes watered down in the second half, replaced by undeveloped subplots and scandalous swooning.It’s a shame, because the film is a technical triumph of colors, light, shadows, and fog. The cinematography, set design, and costumes really pop, and the setting has rarely felt this alluring. The film is so exquisitely rendered it borders on ostentatious.The performances tweak period stereotypes by balancing Cathy’s ferocity with Heathcliff’s fragility as the power dynamics shift between them, accentuated by extreme closeups of faces and other body parts, most notably Heathcliff’s scarred torso.Yet as it transitions into a brooding thriller of deception, obsession, seduction, and manipulation, this latest interpretation of Wuthering Heights isn’t as steamy or suspenseful as intended, beholden to contemporary mainstream tastes rather than Bronte’s text. The unrequited love is passed on to moviegoers. (Todd Jorgenson)
Fennell sigue empeñada en aparecer como directora transgresora, a lo Yorgos Lanthimos, y es esclava de su propia imagen. Por ello busca conectar con un público joven, sin referentes clásicos y de gustos estéticos posmodernos. Para conseguirlo reelabora la novela hasta dejarla en la mínima expresión, y opta por una dirección artística anacrónica, contradictoria y abstracta. Lo que algunos pueden ver como virtud otros lo verán como un defecto. Es lo que ocurre con el juicio que hace David Rooney en The Hollywood Reporter cuando dice de ella que es «pulp, provocativa, empapada de colores llamativos y diseños opulentos, aderezada con florituras anacrónicas, sexy, pervertida, irreverente y resonantemente trágica».Quien quiera ver la novela de la Brontë bajo ese palio, quizá disfrute, el que busque una adaptación realista del libro, que se olvide. Tampoco falta la cuota de la absurdez haciendo que la criada Nelly sea china. El arranque del film –que nada tiene que ver con la trama– es toda una declaración de principios: provocativo, obsceno, anticlerical y sobre todo iconoclasta.Margot Robbie está muy bien, pero desaprovechada, y Jacob Elordi, a pesar de no ser un actor con muchos registros, el personaje le va bien pues su trabajo fundamental consiste en «estar» y punto. La fotografía, por lo dicho anteriormente, tiene especial protagonismo, y es obra del sueco Linus Sandgren, que ya había trabajado en Saltburn, y que se hizo famoso por ganar el oscar por La la land.En fin, una película discordante, que atraerá a unos y decepcionará a otros, pero que deja abierto el camino a que alguien se anime a hacer una nueva adaptación realista, pero fiel de la novela de Emily Brontë. (Juan Orellana) (Translation)
Fennell gets rid of Cathy's elder brother, Hindley, and the entire story-within-a-story format of Brontë's vision, which made it so memorable and inscrutable at the same breadth. Here, there is no Mr Lockwood to position as the mouthpiece of the viewer. The viewer, in Fennell's version, is a slime leaving a trail on the wall. It must follow adequately; in silence, in chronology. The viewer must then lazily accept that Cathy and Heathcliff's romance will burn everything, that their passion devours them whole. Cathy masturbates, historical inaccuracies pile up not only in Jacqueline Durran's latex-adorned costumes but also in Suzie Davie's morbid production design, and Heathcliff is hurt. The Charli XCX songs make little to no impact.Fennell has such a distinctive eye for lush, absorbing detail. Some of her frames are utterly breathtaking, thanks in no small part to the cinematographer Linus Sandgren's evocative play of light and colour. But when all the attention from the costumes to the walls to the necklaces comes off, little remains in the frame to hold on to. Fennell even manages to make the central affair between Cathy and Heathcliff, even when highly sexualised, boring. An entire montage of scenes features them having sex, wherever they can, really, and it still feels lifeless and unintentionally hilarious.It does not help that not only Jacob Elordi but also Margot Robbie are miscast here. Margot's Cathy never aligns with the recklessness and hurt, and over time becomes a weeping mess. Elordi's casting is more unyielding and misguided. The actor is too rigid in the painfully toned-down dialogues, and his Heathcliff is never the man who lives for revenge. There is no passion and fury, no hurt caused. He is too Darcyfied to make an impact. Perhaps the worst hit is Nelly's role here. Undoubtedly one of the most ingenious characters in all of literature, here she is played by Hong Chau with a sense of misplaced jealousy. Alison Oliver is the only one who emerges unscathed in the role of Isabella. Fennell does not know what to do with her, so Oliver runs with it.Wuthering Heights, or “Wuthering Heights” as Fennell would like to name it with the quotation marks, has been accounted for by the writer-director. There's no way to make the film; she's merely making a version of it, she has stated. Like William Wyler’s 1939 Laurence Olivier version or the 1992 one with Ralph Fiennes. But if that new version allows for the book's definitive take on economic disparities and classism to make space for bodice-ripping sexual awakening and campy love affair, then you have lost me.I cannot take it as a ‘version’ of its source either. It is just an empty version, borne out of little curiosity and even less depth. Shock value seems to be its watchword. It makes an absolute mockery of the source material by turning a doomed tale of obsession and fate into a love story. This is a film that works as a fantasy bereft of emotion, a film designed to ragebait viewers into believing transgression looks so sexy. This is a film that is in immediate need of the book in the first place. (Santanu Das)
Robbie and Elordi do OK with shallow material, but they can never evoke enough empathy from the viewer to make the final scenes land as intended. In trying to turn Wuthering Heights into a love-above-all narrative, while retaining the cruelty of the characters, Fennell landed in an emotional void. I cry easily – at movies, books, ads, the lot – but couldn’t even muster a chin wobble for Fennell’s Cathy and Heathcliff. Rather I was relieved when it was over and I was free to stumble out into the blazing sunlight, cicadas blasting, ready to swiftly forget pretty much the whole movie.I struggled to recall the dialogue even moments after leaving the cinema: the script is shamefully sparse and jarring with lame anachronisms. The soundtrack, too, wavers between folk songs, Charli xcx and relentlessly overwrought strings. The whole tone hovers somewhere between an episode of Days of Our Lives (shit-tonnes of dry ice and soft lighting) Bridgerton (elaborate costumes, a plot designed to lead up to sex in a carriage) with a dash of diluted Cronenberg thrown in.The most interesting character in the film, as in the novel, is Nelly Dean, the educated and scheming servant. There were moments where I thought Fennell might redeem the story by properly deploying this famously unreliable narrator (in the novel, Nelly tells the whole, complicated and sorry tale: she’s a fantastic narrative container and one that should be used!). Instead, Nelly (played by Hong Chau) becomes nothing more than a thorn in Cathy’s side when she tells Cathy’s husband Linton (Shazad Latif) that Heathcliff and Cathy are spending way too much time together getting sweaty on the moors.I can’t deny that aspects of the film are nice to look at: mainly the landscape doing its moody thing (the parade of frocks and face sparkles quickly turned ridiculous, especially the Red Riding Hood glitter cape). But mostly the visuals went far too far, or too sideways. Wuthering Heights, the house, looked like it wouldn’t be out of place on the set of Stranger Things or Beetlejuice (dangly bits everywhere and rocky walls that looked like painted styrofoam, which they probably were); and that walls-of-skin-room was, in the end, nothing. It served no purpose other than to remind us that Fennell likes to try and shock us.If all you want is to see Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi yearn, mash some eggs around on a sheet, and have some fairly dull montage sex, go and see the film. But that is really all Fennell’s efforts have amounted to: all the horse tackle, shiny red floors and that gelatinous fish are pointless distractions from a weak script that sought to reduce a complex, brilliant story down to something you might chuck on on a rainy day after you’ve finished bingeing Bridgerton. (Claire Mabey)
La de Fennell es una propuesta que convierte una novela que hablaba de un amor atravesado por el conflicto de clase, raza y género, que era turbia, violenta y vengativa, en una fetichización que podría describirse con uno de esos tags que se usan en las novelas románticas actuales, enemies to lovers, o algún tropo similar con los que resumen lo que se van a encontrar para no llevar a sus lectoras a un chasco.Eso es frustrante porque no solo convierte una obra compleja que se adelantó a su tiempo en una película tremendamente conservadora, sino también porque la directora parece refutar sus obras anteriores. Si en Una joven prometedora pasaba por un filtro pop la cultura de la violación y convertía el Toxic de Britney Spears casi en un coro griego que anticipaba la tragedia, y en Saltburn revisaba Teorema de Pasolini para acabar contando que solo el crimen y el sexo son las opciones para ascender de clase en este mundo; aquí apuesta por una mirada pop que elimina cualquier tema que no sea el amor más allá de cualquier fuerza de la naturaleza.Además, la promesa promocional de una película erótica llena de sexo resulta una operación de marketing destinada a la decepción. En esta Cumbres borrascosas se nos cuenta que entre ambos surge pronto una pasión desmedida que les lleva a estar cachondos todo el día, y que esa calentura se alargará hasta el esperado encuentro. Sin embargo, todo se limitará a unas cuantas metáforas alimenticias simplonas con productos viscosos. El sexo de esta película es tremendamente pacato y antiguo. Rodado como una película erótica de hace décadas que no se atreve a proponer nuevas formas de mostrar el sexo ni el erotismo. Eso sí, para que no digan que era mentira, Fennell comienza su película con un ahorcado teniendo una erección. Es, de lejos, la propuesta más arriesgada de toda la película, ya que comienza con un sonido que el espectador considera de lujuria para mostrar que es la agonía de alguien a punto de morir. La unión de muerte y sexo de toda la vida que solo sirve como ocurrencia feliz puntual.Ni siquiera se atreve a realizar una propuesta similar a la de Más que rivales (Heated rivalry), la serie del momento que adapta una saga de novelas románticas y que, si bien sigue los mismos patrones y nace de los mismos sitios, apuesta por una mirada mucho más arriesgada al sexo, aunque sea una representación del sexo gay marcada por la escritora de las novelas originales, lo que ha sido una de sus principales críticas. Aquí lo más explícito que hacen Margot Robbie y Jacob Elordi es meterse muchas veces los dedos en sus respectivas bocas, en un gesto que suena a viejo. [...]Fennell no es Baz Luhrman. No ha querido serlo. Ojalá. Porque Luhrman es consciente de su estilo, de lo hortera de su propuesta, del kitsch y del brilli brilli. Emerald Fennell ha convertido Cumbres Borrascosas en una revista de decoración y vestidos que parecen solo responder al capricho estético, y, de nuevo, fetiche de su creadora. No hay justificación para la mayoría de las propuestas visuales que propone (¿por qué hay ladrillos blancos donde matan a los animales más allá de porque quede bien en cámara?), y muchas de ellas son simplonas, como los colores de las habitaciones o poner una pila de botellas enormes para dejarnos ver el alcoholismo de un personaje. Decía Fennell que quería que su Cumbres Borrascosas sea el Titanic para una nueva generación. Ojalá esa nueva generación siga teniendo en Jack y Rose a sus referentes y aproveche esta decepcionante versión para leer la novela original de Emily Bronte. (Javier Zurro) (Translation)
Pocas veces nuestro crítico de 'Vida y Cine' califica a una película como ha hecho con la adaptación de "Cumbres Borrascosas" de Emerald Fennell. Una pelicula "abominable, infame y tremendamente hortera" que según Ocaña solo se puede ver si te interesa "Jacob Elordi sacando la lengua todo el rato cuando besa". (Translation)
Where the book is wild and violent, the film is polished and visually sumptuous. Where the book gives life to ghosts and vengeance, the film takes pop-song edits of the central romance. The original Cathy and Heathcliff are trauma-bonded individuals who turn young love into ruinous obsession. Bronte’s characters are awful people, driven by ego and their most primal instincts. The ugliness is the point. The film ignores this to deliver a palatable Valentine’s Day release.There are moments when the film is bearable. The cinematography and set design are undeniably lush. But beautiful scenery can only take you so far.And, of course, adaptations don’t have to be faithful to be effective. Reinterpretations can, and often do, reveal hidden truths in familiar and beloved works. But this movie murders the original text then kicks the corpse. What remains is closer to fan fiction than Victorian Gothic. (Shyama Krishna Kumar)
If one knows the novel, the film is both bewildering and almost insulting. But if one is ignorant of the book in spite of its illustrious past it could then be a mannered, glossy entertainment for the masses. Why not, in this slick, immoral world of ours…? (Neptune)
The problem with director Emerald Fennell'sWuthering Heights isn't how little it resembles its source material. Plenty of cinematic masterpieces look nothing like the books they're based on.The problem is that it's a mess of a film.It takes Emily Brontë's gothic romance, jams in a limp bodice-ripping plot using two of the hottest Australians in Hollywood, wraps it in the veneer of a fairytale, adds mild hints of horror, and turns the melodrama up several notches past sensible.The product is a chaotic adaptation that tries a lot and delivers very little. The drama is saccharin, the sex isn't sexy and the laughs are far too sporadic as the tone swings furiously without much to pull it together. [...]Lead actress and producer Margot Robbie (Barbie, I, Tonya) is usually a master of these kind of big performances. But here, whatever element turns over-the-top acting into gold is missing. From her first lines as a naive Cathy, to a critical exchange in which she fires her maid while dressed like a Disney villain, it all comes out a bit corny and inauthentic. Her gasp as Heathcliff breaks a chair would raise eyebrows on a sitcom.Like much of the film, part of the problem is it's not clear if Cathy is being played for satire or authenticity in any given moment. It's a worrying sign when many of the scenes centred on a film's hero feel like its least convincing.It's a relief, then, when Alison Oliver (Saltburn, The Order) turns up for a handful of moments as the meek Isabella Linton, suggesting the film might be riotously funny - and quite spooky - if it had committed to it.As the brooding, dark horse Heathcliff, Jacob Elordi (Priscilla, Frankenstein) only really has one note to hit, but he hits it a lot and pretty well. Elordi's performance is three-quarters in his scowl, to the point that rare moments he whips out a smile feel rewarding. He betrays the fact that the film works best when it's not drowning in dialogue.Meanwhile, there's plenty of sex thrown in, a provocative addition to a very sexless novel.It's also a choice that's meant the film has been sold as a bonkbuster, probably a sensible marketing move when you have the likes of Robbie and Elordi leading your cast and going on a full-on charm offensive to sell it.And none of it feels out of place, per se, but - apart from a few daring fragments - it's all quite restrained and lacking the tension you'd expect. It's unlikely to startle anyone who has sat through an episode or two of Outlander.All that said, Wuthering Heights as a whole is undeniably the stylistic vision of an auteur.It's hauntingly lit and aggressively colour-coded to the point of looking overwhelming.The sets pull off eye-catching tricks of perspective and create surreal spaces. It evokes the feeling of a fable, another element the film hints at and never latches fully onto.The costumes, too, are outlandish, decadent, fun and deliberately anachronistic - as is much of the music. This will all be polarising.But there are real moments of visual beauty sprinkled throughout. And of comedy.When Catherine goes to visit her alcoholic father, she finds his body in a room where bottles are stacked in preposterous piles some two metres high on each side of him.It's one of several genuinely funny, silly sight gags and points to a comedic heart and a more satirical tone that the film buries under layers of overwrought debris.After more than 30 attempts to adapt Wuthering Heights for screen, and plenty of other period pieces treading similar territory, it's hard to figure out exactly why the latest is a version that needed to be made.Emerald Fennell's film tries to do a lot, with all of it having been done better elsewhere. (Boris Jancic)
Fennell’s film gestures toward that volatility, but ultimately reframes it as something meant to be felt rather than interrogated. By presenting Catherine and Heathcliff as magnetically doomed lovers, the adaptation invites empathy for a relationship the novel deliberately refuses to justify. Fennell aestheticizes the ugliness that should repel us into intensity. Obsession becomes legible, even seductive, when Brontë’s original power lies in letting it remain unresolved and deeply uncomfortable.This shift is reinforced by the film’s preference for immediacy. In the film, we’re so close to the bodies, desire, and confrontations. But the book works through distance. The novel unfolds through recollection, rumor, and biased narration. Motives remain murky. We only know some characters through the damage they leave behind. By removing that distance, the film replaces psychological unease with spectacle. The result feels emphatic but oddly contained, dramatic without being destabilizing.The casting further flattens this complexity. Jacob Elordi is a gifted performer with real range, but he is miscast as Heathcliff. In the novel, Heathcliff’s identity as an outsider, repeatedly described as dark, foreign, and alien, is not incidental. His rage develops within a system that marks him as less than human long before he becomes cruel. Removing that dimension transforms his resentment into something individualized and palatable. What remains is a brooding figure defined by wounded pride rather than a man shaped by sustained exclusion and dehumanization. The character’s menace is softened, and with it, the story’s moral weight.A different kind of misalignment appears in the casting of Catherine. Margot Robbie is commanding and magnetic, but Catherine is barely sixteen when she makes the decisions that define her life. Her volatility, selfishness, and recklessness are adolescent in a literal sense. Aging her into a fully formed adult changes the stakes. Catherine’s immaturity is essential – her tragedy lies in acting before she understands herself, not in making informed choices she later regrets.Robbie captures Catherine’s restlessness well, particularly in moments when desire disrupts her sense of control. But the casting reframes Catherine as a tragic heroine rather than a dangerously impulsive girl, smoothing out the moral abrasiveness Brontë insisted on.The film’s tone mirrors these compromises. It oscillates between seriousness and stylization, between emotional intensity and self-awareness. The effect is less confrontation than hedging, as if the film wants to provoke without fully committing to the discomfort that provocation should bring. The result is visually striking but emotionally diffuse.That diffusion helps explain the film’s mixed reception. It generates discussion, but little consensus. It is arresting in moments, but rarely lingering. It wants to be experienced viscerally, yet avoids the deeper unease that defines Brontë’s work.The Valentine’s Day release only sharpens the contradiction. Framed as a romantic film event, this adaptation is courting audiences seeking catharsis and doomed devotion. But Wuthering Heights was never meant to offer either. Brontë did not write a love story. She wrote a warning: about confusing possession for intimacy, fixation for devotion, and suffering for meaning.Early readers called the novel vulgar and disturbing. Later adaptations tried to civilize it. This film, for all its excess, still pulls its punches, dressing obsession up as passion and offering spectacle where the book offers judgment.Wuthering Heights does not need to be made sexier or louder. For its story to work on screen, it needs to be hostile, unresolved, and morally abrasive. Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship is based on the kind of “love” no one should want. And their story is about the damage that follows when we insist on calling their pairing romance anyway.Nearly two centuries later, that may still be the hardest truth to sit with. (Angélica Escobar)
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