One of the most anticipated films of 2026 arrived this Valentine’s weekend with grand ambition and a formidable cast. Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights,” released Feb. 13, reimagines Emily Brontë’s 1847 novel for a modern audience, positioning the story not just as gothic tragedy but as epic romance. With Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, the adaptation has been marketed as both sweeping and intimate — and for students invested in how classic stories are reshaped for a new generation, it’s a film that demands attention.
In the months leading up to its release, casting decisions, fashion choices and perceived departures from historical accuracy became points of debate across social media and film circles. “Wuthering Heights” is a novel readers hold fiercely, and any reinterpretation carries risk. Fennell’s stated emphasis on emotional scale over textual precision reframes the adaptation as a creative argument rather than a faithful reproduction.
On screen, that approach becomes clear immediately. Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” is an unabashedly romantic, provocative and all-encompassing love story close in emotional scale to “Titanic.” The film leans into romance, eroticism and yearning rather than restraint. Fog rolls across the moors; interiors glow in fairytale light; color saturates every frame like an “Architectural Digest” spread.
The cinematography lingers on touch, breath and silence, turning longing into something tactile. The brilliant and pulsating Charli xcx soundtrack pushes the intensity further, blending gothic atmospheres with modern pop energy in the period setting. Paired with these visuals, the music instantly makes the story feel both Victorian and defiantly modern and bold. It draws outside the lines and rejects modesty.
Rather than foregrounding the novel’s emphasis on class tension, racial otherness and generational cruelty, Fennell turns inward, amplifying the characters’ private turmoil over their social constraints. The film reframes Heathcliff not simply as a figure of vengeance but as a monstrous victim who is wounded, misunderstood and driven as much by vulnerability as by rage. The narrative tilts towards Catherine’s choice between two men. In doing so, the adaptation transforms a notoriously angry, obsessive novel into something closer to an epic love story, though not a gentle one. The boundary between love and disgust remains deliberate.
Several scenes are beautiful and deeply unsettling at once. While watching, I found myself unexpectedly shaken, even in tears at certain moments — not because the story felt softened, but because it felt magnified. Fennell does not resolve a famously problematic love story; instead, she aestheticizes it, leaving viewers to sit with something uncomfortable yet undeniably captivating.
“Wuthering Heights” situates itself comfortably within Fennel’s filmography, alongside other hits including “Saltburn” and “Promising Young Woman.” Like its directorial counterparts, her adaptation of “Wuthering Heights” reaches a level of sensuality and aestheticism that completely immerses the audience in its storyline. The composition of the scenes themselves has no unintentional components, with each moment carefully crafted to portray the ever-shifting tone of the film, from its haunting opening to delicate feelings of hope, anxiety and tragedy.
Color is used intentionally as well, juxtaposing the dull and claustrophobic feelings of the Wuthering Heights estate with the uncertain novelty of Thrushcross Grange. Early scenes on the moors and inside Wuthering Heights are dominated by muddy browns and greys, and Catherine and Heathcliff’s childhood is spent under overcast skies. The visual palette shifts when Catherine enters Thrushcross Grange, with its striking red floors and lush gardens. Catherine’s story arc is one defined by color as well. We witness her emergence into a headstrong woman cloaked in bright gowns, notably of rich reds and warm gold tones that highlight her shifting social status. We ultimately close with scenes of Catherine’s loss of color, emphasized by her haunting, skin-colored bedroom.
Perhaps the most debated question raised by the film is this: what do films owe their source material, if anything? Critics argue that Fennel’s adaptation is not faithful enough to share a title with Emily Brontë’s novel. Her choice to adapt only the first half of the story and reinvent the plotline as she pleased left many outraged at the lack of development of the book’s original nuance. In my viewing experience, however, it felt as though every complex theme of the novel Fennel excluded was replaced with a deeper development of the film’s ultimate theme – consuming desire. It does not reproduce the novel’s critiques as much as translate it into a sensory and emotionally violent commentary on relentless passion.
What lingers after the final scene is a sense of yearning and discomfort. Whether one views the film expecting a faithful retelling or a reinvention of classic themes, Fennel’s “Wuthering Heights” passionately reiterates the inescapable longing of Catherine and Heathcliff’s decade-long love affair.
