And you thought Marty Supreme was a shitty protagonist. Wait. Marty Supreme is a shitty protagonist. And nobody is going to nominate Wuthering Heights for Best Picture, which is the point. I guess what I missed from the classic Emily Brontë romance is that the two leads were sociopaths.
That and the sado-masochism stuff. Fifty Shades of Wuthering, amIright? Writer/director Emerald Fennell wanted to take this tale to new “Heights” by introducing bridles and dog collars in sexual activity.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
I don’t know why Wuthering Heights is considered a classic. Emily’s best-known work has absolutely nothing on sister Charlotte’s romance, Jane Eyre. Yet here we are with leads Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, which is about as hot a couple as the cinema gods can offer at this time. First, we have to start with their meet-cute. Li’l Cathy (Charlotte Mellington) finds li’l Heathcliff (Owen Cooper) hiding under her bed.
Wait. Wait. I need to backup even further. It’s the 18th Century. There is a public hanging and the guy dangling from the noose is sporting an erection. This is the opening of the film, one in which the sounds of execution suggest sex until the picture widens to a public hanging. Ummmm, Ms. Fennell, this isn’t as hot as you think it is. Then, we get to the part where Cathy’s jerk-off of a father brings home a street orphan for Cathy to play with. Turning her affection from the maidservant, Cathy suddenly has a powerful enemy.
This is all weird, right? Anyhoo, all of these assholes live at Wuthering Heights, a bleak estate near the Yorkshire Moors, but mostly near a cliffside where windswept visages of the sea remind you that you’re badly underdressed. The boy doesn’t say much, so Cathy names him “Heathcliff” after her favorite cartoon cat. She toys with him and tries to teach him stuff, but Heathcliff ain’t so good at the book-learning … or the paying attention. Luckily, he grows up to be Jacob Elordi, who is seven years younger than Margot Robbie even though these characters were the same ages as kids. Huh.
This is a period English romance, so we all know the deal: Cathy is born to an estate; Heathcliff is born to the street, hence, no matter how much they might want to marry each other, society says, “no.” I’m not sure who this society actually is. There are only, like, six people in the entire film and nobody else in the country wants to trek all the way to Wuthering Heights, especially just to enforce social mores. Oh, no, Cathy, you 
can’t marry the stable boy … somebody might find out … eventually … before you die … maybe.
Regardless, that’s what these two want to do, but the film doesn’t care about that quite as much as it wants the characters to explore sensuality. As a young woman, Cathy finds two servants having sex using stable props; later, we catch her enjoying herself on the cliff face. The film wasn’t done there, but I won’t spoil it on the off chance you care. What was most important to me was the film presented us with exactly two decent people in the entire film, and our “heroes” ruined them both in searching for each other. You know, we all love a great romance, but can it please happen to people who, I dunno, aren’t assholes? Is that too much to ask?
I dare anyone to come away from this film with an adoration for either Cathy or Heathcliff. Yeah, ok, I feel for the longing, repressed, unfulfilled love thing, but I’m seriously not a fan of the fulfilled-but-socially-reckless thing. There has to be a better way. And did Emily Brontë put a bunch of hot sex in her novel? I feel like in an effort to sexualize the tale, writer/director Emerald Fennell made both her leads into selfish assholes. I dunno; maybe that’s what Emily Brontë intended. I’m all for modern interpretations, but this seemed like indulgence in the way a child happens upon an adult magazine or a forbidden website. I’m neither gawking, nor applauding.
There once was a waif named Heathcliff
Miss Catherine could make him go stiff
While she’d take him to bed
The two could not wed
Her moral center was hardly terriff
Rated R, 136 Minutes
Director: Emerald Fennell
Writer: Emerald Fennell, Emily Brontë
Genre: “Classics”
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: “I wish there were more bondage in classic romance”
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: “Wow, these people are kinda despicable.”
