'Wuthering Heights' review: Style devours substance in a seductive but uneven adaptation

Courtesy of Warner Bros.

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Guaranteed to be a massive Valentine’s Day conversation starter, Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” may be the first major adaptation that truly leans into the sensual, feral undercurrent that has always pulsed through Emily Brontë’s novel but rarely made it to the screen. The quotation marks around the title feel intentional. This is not a dusty, reverent retelling. This is Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights,” a feverish remix of a gothic classic that embraces desire, obsession, and emotional rot with reckless abandon. Like “Promising Young Woman” and “Saltburn” before it, the film bursts with striking imagery, bold performances, and a visual confidence that is impossible to ignore. It is also, without exaggeration, one of the horniest American studio films in recent memory. Compared to this, “Fifty Shades of Grey” looks like a chaste after school special. And yet, for all its heat and swagger, something essential never quite clicks into place.

Part of the problem may lie in the density of the source material, which feels aggressively compressed into a two-hour sprint. Fennell barrels through pivotal emotional beats so quickly that moments barely have time to land before the story leaps ahead. The passage of time becomes muddy, relationships evolve in montage rather than lived experience, and key turning points can feel oddly distant. Even the much-hyped pairing of Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, two performers who radiate star power, sometimes struggles to rise above the soap operatic chaos that surrounds them. This is not a bad film, far from it, but viewers expecting a faithful adaptation will likely be stunned by the sheer number of creative liberties. Fennell has every right to reinterpret a classic, yet some narrative swerves undermine the emotional weight of the characters and leave their arcs feeling more erratic than tragic.

The novel’s story, already a storm of longing and cruelty, becomes a full-blown erotic fever dream here. Cathy and Heathcliff grow up as wild, inseparable souls forged in trauma and shared rebellion, clinging to each other with a need that borders on violent. Their connection is not simply romantic. It is primal, sweaty, messy, and fueled by a desperate hunger for control and validation. Secret glances turn into bruising embraces. Arguments dissolve into breathless encounters charged with resentment and want. Fennell refuses to treat their passion as polite yearning. Instead, she drags it into the dirt and lets it writhe. Heathcliff’s absence and triumphant return transforms the film into a revenge fantasy soaked in lust, power plays, and unresolved rage. Cathy’s marriage to the wealthy and decent Edgar becomes less a romantic decision and more a self-inflicted prison, one she repeatedly tries to escape through reckless, intoxicating rendezvous with Heathcliff that threaten to consume everyone involved.

Fennell loves to provoke and tease her audience, and the opening credits make that abundantly clear. The creak of wood, the rhythm of heavy breathing, the promise of something forbidden lurking just out of frame. Then the rug is pulled, immediately announcing that this is not your parents’ version of a literary classic. Sultry close ups linger on skin, sweat, and the charged space between bodies. Scenes play out like confessions whispered in candlelight. Yet despite the intoxicating atmosphere, Fennell sometimes pushes emotional buttons without fully exploring the fallout. She wants you to feel everything all at once, which can make the film feel less like a controlled burn and more like a gorgeous, chaotic meltdown.

From a craft perspective, the film is often breathtaking. Production designer Suzie Davis and cinematographer Linus Sandgren deliver images that feel sculpted for the big screen. Heathcliff riding across the moors at sunset is pure movie star iconography (think Rhett Butler in "Gone with the Wind") evoking classic romantic epics while still feeling modern and dangerous. Lavish interiors glow with color and texture, and the costumes drip with sensuality and decadence. Yet the maximalist approach can also become overwhelming. Scenes stack on top of each other in a rush of visual indulgence, leaving little room for quiet reflection or emotional grounding.

Performance wise, Robbie’s Cathy is intentionally frustrating, a woman who thrives on emotional chaos yet refuses to confront her own desires with honesty. She drifts through the story as if the world is conspiring against her, despite being the architect of many of her own disasters. Her inability to communicate becomes less tragic and more exhausting, making it difficult to maintain sympathy as her decisions spiral further out of control. Elordi’s Heathcliff, however, carries a brooding magnetism that anchors the film. He evolves from a bruised and protective boy into a polished, wealthy force of nature returning to claim what he believes is rightfully his. His obsession with Cathy is both heartbreaking and deeply unsettling, a love story that feels as dangerous as it is seductive.

Shazad Latif delivers a quietly devastating turn as Edgar, refusing to play the easy villain. Instead he becomes the emotional casualty of Cathy and Heathcliff’s relentless chaos. Alison Oliver’s Isabella is equally compelling, adding layers of vulnerability and defiance that give the story unexpected emotional texture. Martin Clunes injects the abusive patriarch with just enough menace to explain the characters’ shared trauma, though even this thread feels under explored in the rush toward melodrama.

Despite its flaws, “Wuthering Heights” remains a sweeping gothic romance drenched in erotic tension and visual grandeur. Fennell pulls the subtext out of the shadows and forces it into the spotlight, transforming a classic tale of doomed love into something feral, provocative, and often thrilling. The film will undoubtedly divide audiences. Some will be enthralled by its audacity and sensual energy, while others may recoil from its messy characterization and narrative shortcuts. Still, there is something undeniably bold about a filmmaker willing to reinterpret a literary staple with this much heat and personality. Even when it stumbles, “Wuthering Heights” refuses to be boring, and that alone makes it worth experiencing on the biggest screen possible.

Grade: B

WUTHERING HEIGHTS opens in theaters Friday, February 13th.