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

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. Read More

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Del Toro’s ‘FRANKENSTEIN’ a Sumptuous Parable of Abusive Fathers

Guillermo del Toro seemed destined to tackle Frankenstein eventually. The fact that he finally got around to it feels less like a surprise than a gothic inevitability, summoned with clear adoration for the source material and a meticulous eye for detail. His entire career has circled the idea of misunderstood monsters and the nobility buried within those abandoned to the fringes. But after decades spent riffing on creation myths and weaving stories of the macabre and supernatural, his version of Frankenstein, for all its sumptuous production and undeniable cinematic majesty, feels a bit, well, Frankensteined together. Read More

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Fiery ‘SALTBURN’ Glows With Psychosexual Heat, Palace Intrigue

In her second feature, writer, director, and producer Emerald Fennell digs her heels deeper into the themes of power dynamics and the consequences of privilege that she explored in 2020’s explosive Promising Young Woman, this time folding in palace intrigue by moving the action to the lofty estate of a family of aristocrats at the eponymous Saltburn. A decadent feast for the senses, Fennell’s sophomore feature calls to mind a tale as old as time framed through a modern lens: an unassuming Oxford scholar is allured by the corrosive power of wealth, finding himself sucked into a vortex of desire, greed, and materialism. It’s Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby with the hyper-modern visual high-shine of Euphoria and the cold calculation of a Bret Easton Ellis novel, plus a splash of the wealthy ennui found in a Sofia Coppola film. Read More