Some truths are self-evident: water’s wet, the English moors are bleak, and a psychosexual romance depicting two exceptionally ruthless soulmates has ignited widespread online debate.
It seems destiny, much like the bond between Heathcliff and Catherine, predetermined that the 2026 film version of Wuthering Heights would spark controversy — moral arguments concerning this maddening love story date back to Emily Brontë’s original 1847 novel.
Indeed, public discontent with writer-director Emerald Fennell’s take on the novel began when it was revealed that prominent actors Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi were cast as the protagonists. Criticisms included Robbie’s age, Elordi’s race, and Fennell’s perceived inability to handle narratives involving class and brutality — all valid points, raised long before the duo donned anachronistic attire to shout amid a downpour.
Is the film any good? Some think so. Will it achieve financial triumph? It’s already headed that way, raking in $34.8 million in ticket sales over three days. Yet, what surpasses typical benchmarks is a film’s capacity to spark discussion, and Wuthering Heights has undeniably baffled the audience for a blend of factors: our media landscape’s penchant for provocation, contemporary culture’s leaning towards moral conservatism, and the enduring reality that Catherine and Heathcliff were, and remain, unrepentant sociopaths.
Witnessing the ensuing discussions has been quite entertaining — cinema has returned, indeed — so let’s delve into the core of this contention.
Wuthering Heights: A Source of Critical Outrage for 179 Years
Wuthering Heights is hardly a pleasant novel. In her childhood, Catherine’s family adopts Heathcliff, a boy who endures ill-treatment and is compelled into labor. Catherine and Heathcliff share a close friendship, despite their societal divisions of class and status. Upon maturing, Catherine, displaying a degree of maliciousness, determines she must marry wealthy to escape her circumstances. She acts on this, betraying Heathcliff, who then departs — and, against all odds, also acquires wealth.
Upon his return, they persist in their poisonous dynamic, tormenting each other by engaging in flirtations with their affluent neighbors, the Linton siblings. Both characters are deplorable — exhibiting cruelty and sadism towards everyone — yet they possess an irresistible, almost supernatural pull towards each other, intensified by some of literature’s most iconic declarations: “You say I killed you? Haunt me then!” Indeed. “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” The sheer beauty of the prose often overshadows the malice they inflict on each other and those around them. While discomfiting to witness, it fosters intricate debates on themes of love, mistreatment, and social stratification, cementing its place as a cornerstone in English curricula.
Both are terrible individuals — showing cruelty and sadism to all in their vicinity — yet they share an almost supernatural magnetism, amplified by some of literature’s most memorable lines.
Those unfamiliar with this narrative might have been surprised by Fennell’s adaptation’s portrayal — marketed as the ultimate love story.
How could this supposedly grandest love story, presented with whimsical visuals and splendid attire, turn out so bleak and disquieting? The answer lies in its “greatness” being epic, not morally virtuous. Catherine and Heathcliff are flawed individuals destined to torment each other endlessly. They are also, paradoxically, soulmates. Audiences aren’t meant to emulate them, nor are they portrayed as achieving a healthy union, but this subtlety is difficult to grasp in a time when many conflate media’s artistic merit with its moral impeccability.
By 2026, viewers find it challenging to appreciate films featuring even minor emotional infidelity, such as the Netflix romantic comedy People We Meet on Vacation. They disapprove of character examinations centered on egoistic figures due to their actions, like Timothée Chalamet’s film about a table-tennis-playing troublemaker, Marty Supreme. Unsurprisingly, they struggle with blatant exhibitions of self-absorption and retribution.
However, we cannot entirely blame contemporary audiences — similar reactions occurred upon the book’s initial release. The original Wuthering Heights provoked fury for its “vulgar depravity and unnatural horrors,” leading Brontë to publish it under a male pseudonym. “How a human being could have attempted such a book as the present without committing suicide before he had finished a dozen chapters, is a mystery,” wrote one reviewer in 1848. What audacity to challenge societal norms by exposing the brutality of love and human egocentricity!
Fennell’s Adaptation: A Diluted Interpretation
The writer-director of this film is known online among cinema aficionados for a somewhat controversial reputation: Her works, such as Promising Young Woman and Saltburn, are undeniably fashionable, but critics contend they often mishandle their ethical and conceptual messages, veering away from discussions of gender and class towards sensationalism and atmosphere.
In this instance, Fennell received a substantial budget to adapt a cherished novel with which she, along with numerous other impassioned, articulate women through generations, shares a profound personal bond. The quotation marks enclosing the official title Wuthering Heights on the movie poster serve to indicate that this represents merely one individual’s interpretation of the narrative — almost as if she’s declaring, quite openly, “Please don’t criticize me, this is simply my perspective.”
Despite this, critics condemned the film for its perceived lack of intellectual depth. Vulture’s Alison Willmore praised its “smooth-brained sensuality,” remarking that “Fennell examines Brontë’s epic of ill-fated passion, fixation, and intergenerational animosity and distills it into the tale of two incredibly chaotic individuals who are inseparable.” A significant portion of the novel — encompassing its portrayals of incest, attempted infanticide, animal cruelty, and necrophilia — is absent from the film. The movie solely focuses on one dynamic, omitting numerous characters and the subsequent generation of torment that Heathcliff and Catherine impose on each other, both during their lives and beyond. Devoid of that level of intricacy, the result is essentially fan fiction.
One could argue that Fennell extracted from the novel only what she, as a white and affluent storyteller, felt capable of managing, presenting simply her version of that narrative. Her interpretation features walls of flesh and absurdly oversized strawberries. Given Vulture’s assessment, there are 31 alternative adaptations available. Why then, become so agitated over this particular one?
Nonetheless, exploring the disparities between the film and the book offers an excellent recreational activity that promotes reading and media comprehension, and has even prompted new audiences to engage with the novel and develop an affection for it. I consider this a net positive outcome.
Excessively Racy (or Racy in an Inappropriate Manner)
Wuthering Heights possesses a sensual quality. The film introduces numerous sexual encounters absent from the novel, complemented by incessant suggestive undertones — a hanging scene with sexual connotations, foods resembling anatomical features, and viscous substances ubiquitous. Considerable scorn has been directed at those who find this appealing. Concurrently, some reviewers contend it falls short. Notwithstanding the pervasive pairings of animal butchery with risqué sexuality, concepts likely foreign to Victorian sensibilities, Adam Nayman of the Ringer observes that Fennell doesn’t quite achieve her desired provocative “edgelord” persona, instead delivering a “naughty, frictionless spectacle.”
Perhaps the most perplexing critique I’ve encountered online regarding the film suggests that Wuthering Heights, originally a novel penned by a young, unmarried woman and widely read by secondary school students, is “an erotic film made for virgins.” Indeed, that’s accurate!
It’s evident that cultural attitudes towards sexuality have grown more conservative lately. For online commentators, Wuthering Heights is paradoxically both an excessive sexual fantasy and yet insufficiently sensual.
I believe it’s entirely legitimate to label a film as unintelligent or to disapprove of its presentation, but the animosity has intensified to a degree where those who found it moving now fear they lack discernment. I find it remarkable that some can overlook Charli XCX’s auto-tuned soundtrack resonating across the moors during a poignant moment. It’s equally valid that others cannot. Opting for a less affected stance isn’t a moral flaw.
The intellectual exercises and amiable entertainment derived from discussing media lose much of their utility when they lead to shaming individuals for simply enjoying themselves at the cinema. Let us address our disagreements online respectfully and reserve the ferocity for Heathcliff and Catherine.