Emily Brontë’s only novel, Wuthering Heights, is a brilliant work that challenges class, obsession, and race, through a tragic tale set in England’s Yorkshire Moors. I read the novel for the first time over winter break, finishing it over the course of three days. In the past century, there have been more than a dozen film and television adaptations, the most recent of which was released in theaters a little over a week ago. I went into Wuthering Heights 2026 with very low expectations, firstly, because it came out on Valentine’s Day, and secondly, because it was promoted as “The Greatest Love Story Of All Time.” The director, Emerald Fennell, said in an interview that it was a loose interpretation, inspired by her experience of reading the novel as a teenager. Was it a good adaptation? The answer is very complex. While on one hand, the setting and costume design are very artistic and amplify the film’s tone, I can’t ignore the blatant misrepresentation of the characters and plot. That being said, Fennell does redeem herself with the overarching themes, which are inherently gothic and controversial, just like Brontë’s novel.
The film’s setting tells a story of its own. The landscape is exactly what I imagined when reading the book, green hills and rocks always shrouded in fog or drenched in dramatic torrents. Not only is this accurate to the real life setting of Yorkshire’s Moors, but it enhances the moody and dramatic scenes that take place in it. This environment is a perfect host for the buildings. Every camera shot of the Heights is imbalanced and off center, and the set itself is deliberately small, both of which make Heathcliff look tall, awkward, and out of place. These factors make the characters and the audience feel uncomfortable and out of place. In contrast, the Grange is symmetrical and ordered with bright colors and rich decor. A closer look reveals disturbing imagery, an example being Cathy’s bedroom, which was made using scans of the actress’s face, the walls depicting veins and freckles. This metaphor is far more eerie than the Heights, but I think it symbolizes Cathy’s inability to escape herself. The landscape, the Heights, and the Grange all embellish the film with a tone and metaphor unattempted in the novel.
Fennell’s costumes are as talkative as her setting. When I first saw how inaccurate they were to the time period, the stingy critique in me took offense, but they aren’t meant to be authentic. Everything about the film is an artistic interpretation, which is beautiful in some instances but simply distracting and honestly laughable in others. It is also worth mentioning that there is a scene in which Cathy gets her corset tightened, but she isn’t wearing an undershirt, prompting yet another grimace from history buffs. This choice is intentional, as it reflects the earlier depiction of Heathcliff’s whip scars and continues the theme of skin used against oneself. That being said, I also think that the costumes are so loud that they take away from the rest of the film. Either way, the artsy costumes are a big risk, and whether or not they were a success is dependent on preference.
Artistic interpretation ends and blatant disregard begins with the main characters. Catherine Earnshaw is played by Margot Robbie, a big actress in her mid thirties. This is an odd choice because, in the novel, the character is not even twenty. The script attempts to age Cathy up, calling her “well past spinsterhood,” but like any teenage girl, her actions are emotional and indecisive, so portraying her as a grown woman makes her decisions difficult for me to believe. Despite her age, Robbie does what she can with what she has, playing an entitled woman very well. Furthermore, a huge change that Fennell made which I see as an improvement was the decision to give Cathy a redeemable quality: remorse. Cathy’s character is portrayed as inconsistent for her age, but accurately entitled, and remorseful, which effectively humanizes a previously irredeemable character.
Although Heathcliff receives a character-makeover, it does not serve him any of the same benefits as it serves Cathy. He’s an orphan, whom Mr. Earnshaw adopts, and is described in the novel as “dark” in complexion (pg. 51). Despite his ethnic description, all but one adaptation has whitewashed him, and Fennell’s rendition is no exception. A current Hollywood heartthrob, Jaccob Elodrie claims fame due to his recent role as the Creature in a Frankenstein adaptation. He plays the misunderstood villain very well, but Heathcliff is not meant to be misunderstood. In the novel, he is simply a villain. His tragic backstory doesn’t make his rape and animal abuse any less irredeemable. Fennell’s portrayal is more akin to a combination of Heathcliff and Hareton, not only because he can’t write, but because he is motivated by love rather than revenge. In the novel, he is distinctly Other, following the Victorian trend of dehumanizing those outside of the white, imperialistic, “civilized” norm. This festering humiliation and exclusion is the vital catalyst for Heathcliff’s transformation from victim to abuser. By whitewashing him, the film flattens his complexities into a moody and lovesick obsession, which is less controversial, but more palatable for a modern audience. The portrayal of Heathcliff as a different ethnicity than in the novel goes deeper than appearance, discarding Brontë’s statement about race and the Other.
The supporting characters are in a worse position than Heathcliff and Cathy. For starters, the kind and generous Mr. Earnshaw of Brontë’s novel does not appear in Fennell’s film. Instead, he is replaced by an abusive drunkard wracked by mood swings. This decision was so that the film didn’t need to include Joseph and Hindley. Nelly, a servant and Cathy’s only friend is introduced in the film as a Lord’s bastard, a detail contrived to sow seeds of jealousy. In the book, however, Nelly is not seen as a jealous villain, and her high birth is never mentioned. It could be argued that, since she is the narrator, she construes the tale in her favor, but even if that is the case in Brontë’s novel, Wuthering Heights 2026 does not give her any complexities, painting her as a static villain. Further compression takes place when the Lintons are introduced. Edgar Linton is an older bachelor, his only character trait being his desire for Cathy. When he wants Cathy to cease in her affair, the film depicts him as controlling, but I think this wish is warranted. Perhaps this bias comes from my knowledge of the book’s Edgar, a sweet man flawed only in his lack of a backbone and tendency towards tradition. In the film, Isabella is his ward rather than his sister, a change that doesn’t affect much, but her character does differ from that in the book when Heathcliff seduces her. Rather than an ignorant girl, Fennell depicts Isabella as a willing victim that fetishizes his abuse. In Fennell’s film, Mr. Earnshaw, Nelly, Edgar, and Isabella are all flattened into obstacles between Heathcliff and Cathy, losing the complexity of their characters in Brontë’s Wuthering Heights.
The plot is more of a fan service than it is Brontë’s story. I could pick apart the minute differences throughout the film, but the biggest difference from the source material is the love confession. Backdropped by a physical and emotional rainstorm, Heathcliff and Cathy finally confess their feelings for one another, saying “I love you” repeatedly, a line that doesn’t appear once in the novel. This invention completely undermines a core idea in Brontë’s novel that Heathcliff and Cathy are both too prideful to ever admit their feelings for one another. Fennell does so intentionally to set up the romantic affair that follows. The trailer and R rating prepared me, but considering the complete lack of sex in the novel, it feels out of place in the film. In an attempt to meet modern audience’s demands Fennell compromises the main story she is trying to tell.
However, it can also be argued that Fennell is challenging her audience. Most period pieces have a tendency to romanticize the past, but Fennell’s work is gross and uncomfortable. For example, the film opens with a public hanging, the victim of which has an erection. This sets the tone for the rest of the movie, as a dark mixture of arousal and danger. Often, I was unable to tell if the scene approaching was going to be violent or erotic, because the score for both sounded the same, and evoked the same anticipation. This idea, while not inherent to the novel, is very Gothic. Fennell’s mixture of arousal and danger challenges the audience to face social taboos and to realize the truth behind the romanticized.
On social media, I’ve heard multiple people say that “despite suffering tuberculosis, this film is the worst thing to ever happen to Emily Brontë.” That being said, the film has already grossed 4.6 million in box office sales, not to mention how many people it has inspired to get the book and read it. I myself read the book because I saw so many people talking about Jaccob Elordi being cast. Regardless of whether or not it was a good portrayal, Wuthering Heights 2026’s controversy has led to far more curiosity and reading of a classic than any accurate adaptation would.
Lou.Summers 