Emerald Fennell’s newest film, “Wuthering Heights,” released on Feb. 14, 2026, has already generated significant buzz. As an adaptation of Emily Brontë’s novel, the movie plays fast and loose with the source material.
Before the movie’s release, there was already outrage from Brontë purists and those who have grown tired of reimagined, modernized classics that have an obligatory number of sex scenes.
After the movie, reviews have been divisive. Vulture praised Fennell’s “smooth-brained” rendition of the story, and the Rotten Tomatoes score has been plummeting since its release.
At the same time, it’s already secured over $150 million at the box office. It wouldn’t be the first time a bad movie has made a lot of money with nothing but sex and pretty scenes, but I think attributing the movie’s success to its erotic scenes and controversy would be doing Fennell an injustice.
Going into my $5 Monday movie night showing, I did my best to push aside my suspicion that Jacob Elordi’s casting was based more on cheekbones than merit and my personal instinct to prefer line-accurate adaptations of books.
The novel introduces Heathcliff as a young orphan being brought to Wuthering Heights, where he quickly forms an unshakable bond with Cathy. As they grow into adulthood, which is when leading actors Margot Robbie and Elordi are brought on screen, they develop an obsessive, toxic relationship.
Without giving away too much of the book for those unfamiliar, Cathy marries another man. The rest of the novel is a cycle of betrayal, revenge, and all-consuming infatuation that is later repeated and inflicted upon the next generation.
That is the major diversion in the film: the movie cuts off that generational pattern and ends with a distraught Elordi clinging onto Robbi’s corpse — about halfway through the novel.
“Wuthering Heights” was undeniably a visually stunning film. From outdoor goldfish-filled vases to wood-carved hands crawling out of the fireplace like smoke, Fennell succeeded in creating a surreal, atmospheric environment in a largely historical setting that seemed to mirror Cathy’s deteriorating mind.
If you have already seen the movie, then the phrase “skin room” is likely to make you just as uncomfortable now as it did then. At the time, I thought it was included as little more than a clunky metaphor relying on shock factor.
“Skin room” is actually a historical English term for cramped bed-closets, claustrophobic spaces that functioned as the bare minimum of bedrooms. Combined with the sparse furniture and Cathy’s feeling of the world shrinking in, it was a much more nuanced tool in the film than it may appear.
As those of you who have seen “Saltburn,” another film by Fennell, will know, sometimes she truly does rely on sensationalism in visuals and writing.
In the novel, Isabella is Cathy’s new sister-in-law whom Heathcliff marries out of revenge. She is essentially a victim of domestic abuse who almost immediately recognizes the innate darkness in Heathcliff.
In turning the film version of Isabella into a willing participant of a deeply unhealthy BDSM-type dynamic with Heathcliff, Fennell may have intended to emphasize the strong sense of loyalty that some victims feel towards their abusers. I’m hesitant to give her the benefit of the doubt here, as it comes across as little more than a fetishized, Jacob Elordi wet dream.
That’s a theme throughout the film — gratuitous sex scenes that seem to be included just to highlight how hot Elordi and Robbi both are.
The beauty of “Bridgerton,” a popular historical romance adapted from a book series, is the source material. When Netflix is drawing from a raunchy historical drama to begin with, anything they add or change is likely to deepen it.
For “Wuthering Heights,” despite Fennell’s intentional quotation marks around the movie’s title to highlight that it’s a loose adaptation, the same cannot be said.
Emily Brontë’s vision highlighted toxic dynamics in familial and romantic relationships, the pattern of victims inflicting abuse on others, and the nature of jealousy and obsession.
Fennell’s vision is a bit more opaque. Whether she had intended to use the sex scenes as a way of modernizing what these character dynamics would look like today or included more finger-sucking than I knew was possible to highlight their obsessive desire, I don’t know.
The changes in Cathy and Heathcliff’s dynamic could have good reasons, but the core of what the romantic leads mean to each other feels missing in some way. It seems as though Fennell was trying to create a new narrative, but it’s difficult to push past the overdramatization and see what that new story is.
“Wuthering Heights” isn’t a film that was underdeveloped or pushed out as just another romance, but one that isn’t sure of what it wants to say. For all its beauty and provocation, the film mistakes intensity for death — and the difference matters.
Virginia Doherty is the managing editor. Contact her at [email protected]
