Wuthering Heights

More of a revisionist reimagining than a faithful adaptation, the new Wuthering Heights funnels 18th century romantic tragedy through a 21th century melodramatic lens.

This sweaty new take on Emily Bronte’s venerable gothic novel from director Emerald Fennell (Saltburn) is visually dazzling, almost enough to compensate for a script that turns woefully shallow and sentimental.

It’s set in the moors of Yorkshire, where young orphan Heathcliff is rescued and taken in by the temperamental Mr. Earnshaw (Martin Clunes), the wealthy and abusive patriarch of the titular estate.

Heathcliff becomes a sibling of sorts for his daughter, Catherine, although the mutual attraction is evident as their adolescent romance blossoms out of mutual devotion, under the watchful eye of a conflicted caretaker (Hong Chau). “I shall never leave you, no matter what you do,” Cathy proclaims.

They remain together as young adults, even as their interests begin to diverge. As Cathy (Margot Robbie) is drawn to the perks of affluence while Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) adopts a more blue-collar mentality.

After an incident causes Heathcliff to flee, Cathy finds comfort with Edgar (Shazad Latif), an entrepreneur she eventually marries, knowing he’ll always be a consolation prize.

When Heathcliff finally returns, their spark is obscured by years of pent-up jealousy and unresolved resentment. Circumstances have changed, with Edgar’s younger sister (Alison Oliver) now caught in the middle). Can their turbulent relationship be salvaged?

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.

Rated R, 136 minutes.