A New Take on Wuthering Heights: Passion, Power, and a Departure from the Novel
The latest cinematic rendition of Wuthering Heights arrives with a flourish, promising forbidden passion, dramatic landscapes, and the tempestuous love affair at its core. It’s a film brimming with striking imagery: windswept moors, elaborate gowns, the stark brutality of violence, and a recurring motif of red, splashed across decor, costumes, and even the dramatic sunsets Heathcliff gallops into. However, while it captures a certain visceral energy, this adaptation significantly diverges from Emily Brontë’s original literary masterpiece.
One might find themselves pondering the symbolic weight of certain scenes. The home-made scrapbook presented by Isabella to Cathy, for instance, appears laden with suggestive imagery, prompting questions about nascent sexuality and awakening desires. Similarly, Cathy’s fascination with kneading dough could be interpreted as a metaphor for burgeoning sexual awareness. While the film leans into these interpretations, suggesting a burgeoning attraction between Cathy and Heathcliff that society deems inappropriate due to his lower social standing, it’s a far cry from the nuances Emily Brontë explored.
Brontë’s novel, constrained by the societal norms of her era, conveyed passion in ways that extended far beyond overt sexuality. The driving force in her Wuthering Heights is not solely romantic or physical love, but an equally potent passion for cruelty, revenge, and the destructive pursuit of power.
Adapting a sprawling 19th-century novel for a contemporary audience is an undeniable challenge, and director Emerald Fennell’s approach acknowledges this, with the film explicitly stated as being “based on” the novel. Fennell has chosen to hone in on the central, ill-fated romance between Cathy and Heathcliff, a narrative thread that undeniably resonates with modern viewers. Yet, this focus comes at the expense of other crucial elements that define Brontë’s epic.
The film omits the framing narrative provided by Mr. Lockwood, the new tenant at Thrushcross Grange, and Nelly Dean, the insightful servant who acts as the primary narrator in the book. Instead, the audience is plunged immediately into a scene of horror: the final moments of a hanged man, observed by a callous crowd, with a young, seemingly savage Cathy Earnshaw positioned prominently. This abrupt beginning establishes Cathy’s character in a starkly different light from her initial portrayal in the novel.
Furthermore, the omission of key characters, such as Cathy’s brother Hindley, fundamentally alters the narrative’s trajectory. In Brontë’s novel, Hindley’s intense jealousy and animosity towards Heathcliff, stemming from their father’s favouritism, leads to Heathcliff’s banishment to harsh labour after Mr. Earnshaw’s death. Hindley’s subsequent inheritance of Wuthering Heights and his cruel treatment of Heathcliff are central to the cycle of revenge that unfolds.
The film, however, substitutes Mr. Earnshaw for Hindley as the primary antagonistic force. This Mr. Earnshaw is depicted as a brutal, alcoholic figure who despises Heathcliff, a portrayal that raises questions about his initial decision to adopt the boy. This shift significantly impacts the motivations and dynamics of the characters.
Another notable alteration involves the inhabitants of Thrushcross Grange. In the novel, Edgar and Isabella Linton are presented as a couple with two children. The film, however, portrays Edgar as an adult with Isabella as his much younger ward. This changes Cathy’s early interactions; in the book, she navigates the affections of both Edgar and Heathcliff as competing love interests. The film presents her meeting Edgar as an adult, her interest driven primarily by the social standing and wealth he can offer. While the novel allows for more ambiguity in Cathy’s feelings for Edgar, adding layers of tension, the film simplifies this aspect.
Perhaps the most significant departure lies in the scope of the narrative. Brontë’s novel extends far beyond the initial Cathy-Heathcliff saga, encompassing multiple generations and the long-lasting consequences of their actions. The novel depicts Cathy’s death in childbirth, but her daughter, also named Cathy, survives to become a pivotal character. In the film, both Cathy and her child perish, and Heathcliff’s subsequent grief marks the apparent conclusion.
This is where the novel truly takes flight. Heathcliff, always a brooding presence, descends into utter fiendishness. His actions are fueled by a potent cocktail of thwarted love for Cathy, contempt for Edgar, and an overwhelming thirst for revenge against Hindley. He systematically acquires both Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange, tormenting their inhabitants. The reader’s continued engagement with Heathcliff is sustained by the profound agony of his lost love and his unhinged desire for Cathy’s spirit to haunt him eternally.
The film’s interpretation of Heathcliff falls short of this complex portrayal. He is presented not as a calculating, monstrous figure, but as a more watered-down version. His pleas for Cathy’s ghost to haunt him stem from grief rather than the subsequent madness that consumes him in the novel. His cruel marriage to the infatuated Isabella is depicted primarily as a means to exact revenge on Cathy, with Isabella seemingly possessing a masochistic inclination to play along.
For those seeking a visually spectacular and intensely romantic cinematic experience, the film undoubtedly delivers. Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi share a palpable chemistry that makes their on-screen pairing sizzle. However, for readers yearning for the intricate, generation-spanning narrative, the darker psychological depths, and the profound exploration of vengeance and its enduring legacy, Emily Brontë’s original novel remains the definitive choice. And for those who appreciate a story that ultimately offers a sense of resolution, the book concludes with a surprisingly happy ending.
