Rating: ★★★​​

Directed by Emerald Fennell

Starring Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi, Hong Chau, Alison Oliver, Shazad Latif

Rated R

Release Date: Feb. 13, 2026

Book-to-movie adaptations usually stir the pot, regardless of if the product is a thoughtful reimagining or questionable deviation from the original story. Since Emerald Fennell’s film adaptation of Emily Brontë’s magnum-opus “‘Wuthering Heights’” was announced in July 2024, dedicated readers and fans of Fennell alike awaited her interpretation with apprehension. 

Fennell’s previous films, “Promising Young Woman” (2020) and “Saltburn” (2023), continue to inspire discourse about their provocative themes and exploration of power dynamics. In line with her prior work, Fennell’s official trailer sparked varying reactions: Some praised Fennell’s inventive “literary fantasy,” while others expressed skepticism over its seemingly pervasive “emphasis on sex” rather than on the characters themselves — a major detour from the novel.

To remind viewers that this film is her interpretation and not a conformist tribute to Brontë’s novel, Fennell placed the film’s title within quotes. I find this stylistic choice subtle and intriguing, as it opens up a discussion of what audience is Fennell trying to reach — readers, filmgoers, or both? Fennell isn’t shy about the differences between the novel and her film, but why use the novel’s title as her own, instead of crediting Brontë’s work simply as inspiration? This question of agency speaks to a particular conflict between honoring a text and redefining it. Maybe these quotation marks are Fennell’s way of setting her own creative boundaries, or maybe she’s playing into the criticism — showing viewers that she knows what she’s doing and has all along.

Fennell’s film revolves around the tumultuous relationship between protagonist Catherine Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi). As a young boy, Heathcliff is taken into the Earnshaw household and eventually forms a deep bond with Cathy as they are both forced to confront Cathy’s angry father (Martin Clunes). Their relationship is tested as they get older, however, with Cathy’s marriage to Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif) and Heathcliff’s abrupt disappearance thereafter. When Heathcliff returns to the Linton estate years later, he begins a romance with Edgar’s sister, Isabella Linton (Alison Oliver), creating a deep-rooted rivalry with Cathy that pushes all the repressed sexual tension and jealousy to a head. 

Heathcliff is a prime example of a Byronic hero — a brooding, elusive, yet obsessive love interest, purposely bending social norms through his individualist nature. Fennell examines this frustrating yet undeniably captivating aspect of the novel through visual motifs. Pouring, unforgiving rain, in particular, reflects Heathcliff’s unpredictable yet unrelenting nature. 

Whether her film captures the novel’s nuance of Heathcliff’s character and his relationship with Cathy is both cautiously obvious and curiously unclear — if every shot, every line, is oh-so-intentional, then why does this key character remain at a distance? Perhaps Fennell strategically places Heathcliff in this position, letting viewers wrestle with the fact that he is incapable of being fully read. 

Although I have not read Brontë’s novel myself, a major controversy of Fennell’s film centers around its casting of Elordi as Heathcliff. Many scholars argue that Heathcliff is portrayed as racially ambiguous in the novel, pointing to descriptions such as: “Dark, almost as if it came from the devil.” Fennell’s commentary — or lack thereof — on race is sewn into the very fabric of the film, anxiously stirring in the shadows of each shot. 

All the while, Heathcliff’s racial identity isn’t entirely addressed. This missing plot point forms an uncomfortable silence, which is swiftly filled by the film’s frilly embellishments from Jacqueline Durran’s decadent costumes to Charli xcx’s synth-laden soundtrack. While Heathcliff’s class difference from the Lintons punctures through these delicacies in certain moments, we are ultimately left wondering why Fennell doesn’t elaborate on the novel’s characterization of Heathcliff, especially since he is so fueled by a certain anger — a rage unfamiliar to us. The imminent, gaping tension between Heathcliff and the Lintons pushes us to consider the sociohistorical subtext, which Fennell unfortunately doesn’t explore.

While Fennell has clarified that this adaptation is based on her experience reading “Wuthering Heights” at 14 years old — hence the film’s exploration of “disturbing, sexy, and nightmarish” themes — many people find major narrative flaws in her retelling. One of the major differences is the erasure of the novel’s third act, leaving readers, in particular, with an unsatisfying cliffhanger at the film’s end. As the film came to a close, I found myself wanting more. Even without having read the book, I felt disappointed because there was obviously more to the story. 

The film’s abrupt ending inverts our expectations, circling back to Cathy and Heathcliff in their youth. They are bonded from the very beginning until the very end. Cathy is headstrong in defending Heathcliff against her father, even when it scares her. Heathcliff is guarded and protects Cathy, even when it costs him. We see just how much each of their inner children resurface in their adult relationship: Deep down, they are emotionally sensitive, although they fight to appear otherwise, both to outsiders and each other.

In my viewing experience, I felt compelled to consider the notion of forgiveness. At one point, Cathy says to Heathcliff, “You’re too late,” and I was left asking: When is it too late, and where do forgiveness and regret intersect? I find myself still pondering these questions as I write this, a few days after my viewing. I’m unsure whether I appreciate or detest these unanswered questions, but perhaps that’s what Fennell’s “‘Wuthering Heights’” is all about — an invitation to face those haunting thoughts, whether we like them or not.