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Love Is Warfare in Steamy Brontë Adaptation, ‘WUTHERING HEIGHTS’

Name: Wuthering Heights review
Item: Wuthering Heights
Rating: 3.7
Author: Matt Oakes

By Matt Oakes · February 10, 2026

Love Is Warfare in Steamy Brontë Adaptation, ‘WUTHERING HEIGHTS’

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I’ll admit it right off the bat: I’ve never read Emily Brontë, nor seen any other film adaptation of Wuthering Heights. I came to Emerald Fennell’s take on Brontë’s seminal novel knowing its cultural footprint, but none of the story. Based on her previous work, particularly the alluring psychosexual class-warfare drama Saltburn, I wasn’t expecting a Joe Wright-style adaptation – all handsomely mounted restraint, shapely bodices, and tight corsets. What I got instead was a classical romance stripped of manners and pitched to an eleven; a brash, unrestrained, deeply horny fever dream slathered in excess and sincerity in equal measure.

Though book club purists may bristle at her translation of the material, Fennell’s vision thoroughly impresses with its sharp point of view and tactically deployed modernity, delivering a swoony romance that’s as flagrantly risqué as it is emotionally complex. The production elements are proudly garish: costumes, score, cinematography all turned up and begging to be noticed. The sex-forward promiscuity reads unmistakably modern, and the soundtrack – Charli XCX in new brat-winter mode – seals the vibe. This Wuthering Heights fucks.

With Fennell at the helm, things occasionally tip into silly overindulgence – and the pacing flags, especially in the saggy middle area – but it never feels like she’s taking the source material for granted. Instead, she elevates it with just enough well-placed provocation and a pair of undeniably steamy leads in Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi to send contemporary audiences into a full-blown tizzy. And though this adaptation may not fully gel for the reverent literary crowd, folks (like myself) new to Brontë (or just here for the Elordi action) will find a new riff on a classic that’s messy, sweaty, and a fair bit unhinged.

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Wuthering Heights movie still Catherine Earnshaw (Robbie) and Heathcliff (Elordi) are doomed. Cathy’s belligerent father (Martin Clunes) fancies himself a philanthropist but lacks the constitution or sobriety for true benevolence. When he takes in a young Heathcliff, he and Cathy become more than best friends. He is her pet, both in practice and in devotion. Heathcliff’s unwavering loyalty shields Cathy from her father’s mercurial spells and asserts his unrelenting love for her. The two grow up together as the Earnshaw house falls into disrepute. He becomes a ward turned servant rather than a gentleman; she dreams of being swept away from her ancestral grounds, Wuthering Heights, and made into a wife. Though the now-grown Catherine loves Heathcliff, she knows their romance is doomed. A marriage between them would be degrading, impoverished in material value if not in emotion.

So Cathy pursues a romance with the wealthy new neighbor, Edgar (Shazad Latif), while Heathcliff absconds to make something of himself, to become a gentleman worthy of her hand. Cathy’s handmaid Nelly (Hong Chau) meddles in their affairs, while Cathy finds a new companion in Edgar’s impressionable, jejune ward, Isabella (Alison Oliver). What follows is a swirl of unrequited love, missed connections, affairs, infidelity, and truly terrible decisions. Through the years, Cathy and Heathcliff remain tethered, embattled in a tormented romance that was not meant to be. Their eventual distance becomes a sword. Their reunion is scorched-earth. But to engage their tempest of desire is to undo their newfound stature, and so denial becomes the battleground. The more demented and depraved the romantic battle of attrition between Cathy and Heathcliff becomes, the swoonier the dark romance grows.

Throughout it all, the individual production elements ravish. The set design by Susie Davis is gothic and decadent, no element too small to provoke. Linus Sandgren’s vivid cinematography leans into the extremes of the story; it’s edging chills and burning fires, empty rooms that entrap Catherine, and walls that reflect her hollow beauty back at her. Gaudy gowns and stiff suits define the costuming by Jacqueline Durran, luxuriating in the excesses of the wealthy and visually dividing them from the paid servants and laborers who keep their little kingdoms afloat. It’s a handsomely mounted film through and through, decadent as a feast and uninterested in restraint. It;s deserving of all the praise you can pile upon it.

Not every element of the translation works quite so well. The characterization of Heathcliff, for instance, can be a bit herky-jerky. We see him early on as loyal and loving to a fault; later, we’re told he’s an uncompromising brute. But from what we’ve seen up to that point, his only real brutishness is the unwavering stubbornness of his love for Cathy. One minute he’s romantic and lustful, the next he’s, let’s say, openly distasteful toward women. His more sinister side is mixed in with oddly timed, undying declarations of everlasting love. The intention is to craft a complex love interest, but the effect lands as more inconsistent than layered.

Perhaps the most head-scratching issue though is the age of the actors, which becomes confusing if not downright distracting. As kids, the three central characters of Cathy, Heathcliff, and Nelly appear roughly the same age. But as adults, they’re played by Elordi (28), Robbie (35), and Chau (46). Normally, age discrepancies don’t bother me much, but it felt noticeable here; visible in a way that pulls you out of the moment and makes you want to Google their ages right then and there (like I did after the screening). This is especially true when Robbie is playing an older teen version of Cathy. She may be one of the most beautiful women in the world, but she simply can’t pass for a girl who hasn’t yet discovered her own sexuality. It just doesn’t work.

Even despite this issues, Robbie and Elordi remain a well-matched pair. Their sexual chemistry is undeniable. Their kisses are full of tangled tongues. Their sex raunchy and impolite. Both actors are more than capable of carrying the weight of romantic lead on their own, but it’s their coming together, and their coming undone, that gives the film its pulse. Not everything works in Wuthering Heights, but when it’s operating at full capacity, it’s impossible to deny the allure of this material and the way that Emerald presents it. It endures, now as ever, through Brontë and through every unhinged, horny adaptation that follows in her wake.

CONCLUSION: Not without its issues, Emerald Fennell’s over-the-top take on ‘Wuthering Heights’ makes for a deliciously devious dark romance with alluring lead performances from Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi. The production elements are electrifying across the board. Disclaimer: I have never read the book.