Remember the talk of an opening execution scene that ended with visible ejaculation and orgasming nuns? Inverted commas surely would not be enough. We\u2019d need bold italics, multiple exclamation points and eggplant emojis. Right?<\/p>\n
Not so much. We do indeed begin with debauchery at a public hanging, but the scene is carried off with more bawdy mischief than pornographic subversion. It\u2019s closer to Carry on Heathcliff than The 120 Days of Sodom.<\/p>\n
The surprise for many will be how closely this supposed deconstruction sticks to the shape of Emily Bront\u00eb<\/a>\u2019s original narrative. As has been the case with virtually every feature adaptation (the 1992 film with Ralph Fiennes being a rare exception), \u201cWuthering Heights\u201d entirely ditches the second generation, but, in its guiding structure, it makes few more radical swerves than did William Wyler\u2019s 1939 classic.<\/p>\n You know what happens. Mr Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) brings an orphan of uncertain racial origins back to his windy home on the Yorkshire moors. The lad, named Heathcliff (Owen Cooper from Adolescence), becomes close to Catherine (Charlotte Mellington), Mr Earnshaw\u2019s daughter, but, following jealous disputes about the neighbouring, more civilised Linton family, Heathcliff, a strapping force of nature, flees the county to make his fortune.<\/p>\n Literal and figurative storms accompany his eventual moneyed return. Now in the starry form of Margot Robbie<\/a>, often dressed, inexplicably, like an Alpine milkmaid, and Jacob Elordi<\/a>, a caber of landscape made flesh, the couple spread bottomless misery wherever their blustery passion touches down.<\/p>\n Fennell, who has already had a crack at interclass amour fou with Saltburn<\/a>, makes her distinctive presence felt in the knowingly vulgar \u2013 somewhat inconsistent \u2013 visuals and in a clash of cheeky anachronisms that keep the soundtrack on awkward edge: Charli XCX<\/a>\u2019s smart beats rubbing against the folk singer Olivia Chaney\u2019s lovely version of The Dark-Eyed Sailor. <\/p>\n The nightmarishly heightened contrast between the horrors of Wuthering Heights (pyramids of bottles stacked near tiling that suggests Derek Jarman\u2019s work for the Russell film The Devils) and the stifling civilisation of the Lintons\u2019 Thrushcross Grange (think Austen pimped up for a themed Las Vegas casino) will surely secure the film\u2019s production designer, Suzie Davies, awards in a year\u2019s time.<\/p>\n![\"“Wuthering](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/3RE45KVMIFHPJJHLYOSUU64AUU.jpeg\")
\u201cWuthering Heights\u201d: Alison Oliver as Isabella. Photograph: Warner Bros <\/p>\n