Why is the new “Wuthering Heights” so hated?
Ah, darling readers, buckle up for a tempestuous ride through the moors of modern cinema—Emerald Fennell’s fresh take on Wuthering Heights has stormed into theaters like a Gothic fever dream, starring Margot Robbie as a fierce Cathy and Jacob Elordi channeling Heathcliff’s brooding menace. But hold the Yorkshire tea: this lush period piece, dripping with prestige TV vibes à la Saltburn‘s twisted elegance, has ignited a firestorm of backlash. Why the vitriol? From botched book fidelity to casting gripes that echo Bridgerton‘s diversity debates, we’re diving into the hate to uncover if it’s deserved—or just another chapter in adaptation angst.
Casting the moorland storm
Diving into the heart of the backlash, the casting of Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff has fans howling like windswept ghosts on the Yorkshire moors. In Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff is described as dark-skinned, possibly of Romani or mixed heritage, yet Fennell’s choice of a pale Aussie heartthrob feels like a deliberate whitewash, sparking accusations of erasing racial undertones that fueled the novel’s tragic tensions.
Beyond skin-deep gripes, purists decry how this Wuthering Heights veers wildly from the source material, morphing into Emerald Fennell’s personal fever dream rather than a faithful retelling. Gone are the nuanced class struggles; in their place, a glossy, sex-drenched spectacle that echoes her Saltburn antics, leaving book lovers feeling betrayed by what they see as shallow, idiotic liberties with a literary cornerstone.
Critics also point fingers at Fennell’s posh pedigree, whispering that her upper-crust lens distorts Brontë’s gritty exploration of social divides. This Wuthering Heights, they argue, revels in perverse excess without grasping the original’s raw despair, turning a tale of doomed passion into a divisive, throbbing escapade that alienates as much as it enthralls.
Fan backlash boils over
Social media is ablaze with Wuthering Heights detractors, many lamenting how the film amps up the eroticism to absurd levels, turning Brontë’s haunting romance into a steamy soap opera that feels more like a guilty-pleasure binge than literary reverence. Fans argue this hyper-sexual lens cheapens the story’s profound emotional core, prioritizing shock over substance.
Critics echo the outcry, slamming the adaptation for its superficial gloss that masks hollow characters and plot holes wider than the Yorkshire dales. In this Wuthering Heights, they say, Fennell’s flair for visual opulence overshadows Brontë’s intricate themes of revenge and redemption, resulting in a pretty but pointless rehash that alienates purists.
Yet amid the hate, a sliver of defenders praise the bold reinvention, comparing it to daring period dramas that twist classics for modern eyes. Still, the the subject covered on filmdaily.co leans harsh, with many viewing this Wuthering Heights as a missed opportunity to honor the novel’s dark, untamed spirit rather than reinvent it recklessly.
Expert opinions emerge
Diving into expert analyses, film scholars argue that this Wuthering Heights falters by altering Brontë’s tragic ending, opting for a modern twist that feels disrespectful to the novel’s cyclical themes of torment and legacy. Such changes, they claim, dilute the story’s haunting resonance, sparking debates over artistic liberty versus literary sacrilege in adaptations.
On the flip side, some critics hail Fennell’s vision as a bold evolution, drawing parallels to revisionist takes like Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. They praise how Wuthering Heights infuses fresh energy into stale classics, emphasizing Robbie and Elordi’s electric chemistry as a gateway for new audiences to discover Brontë’s world.
Ultimately, while the hate highlights valid gripes about fidelity and representation, this Wuthering Heights succeeds as provocative cinema that challenges norms—proving the backlash might stem more from purist expectations than outright failure, inviting viewers to rethink timeless tales.
Mixed signals from critics
Peering into the critical landscape, reviews of Wuthering Heights reveal a split verdict, with some lauding Emerald Fennell’s bold strokes as a seductive tonic against puritanical vibes, channeling Brontë’s raw emotion into a contemporary sensory feast. Yet detractors decry its campy flair, arguing it turns tragic love into a loveless farce, missing the novel’s haunting depths.
Social feeds buzz with polarized takes, where fans hail the film’s steamy passion and immaculate vibes as a gateway for Gen Z to rediscover classics, praising its melancholic modernity. Others slam it as confusing and unfaithful, wishing Fennell had penned an original gothic romp instead of this divisive adaptation that withers under scrutiny.
Balancing these voices, Wuthering Heights emerges as a lightning rod for debate, its flashy reinvention sparking joy in some quarters while fueling ire in others—highlighting how adaptations often court controversy by daring to evolve timeless tales for fresh eyes.
Audience rifts deepen
Fresh critiques of Wuthering Heights spotlight Emerald Fennell’s decision to excise the novel’s second generation, stripping away Brontë’s themes of cyclical torment and legacy for a streamlined, sensational narrative. Scholars argue this guts the story’s depth, turning a multi-layered epic into a one-note obsession with passion and peril that feels truncated and unsatisfying.
Further fueling the fire, fans decry how the adaptation reframes abusive dynamics as erotic power plays, evoking BDSM tropes over the original’s raw despair. This twist, they say, glamorizes toxicity, with Fennell’s stylistic flourishes—think Saltburn’s glossy excess—prioritizing shock value over the nuanced tragedy that defines Wuthering Heights‘s enduring appeal.
In the end, while Wuthering Heights‘s bold swings ignite vital debates on adaptation ethics, the backlash underscores a core truth: straying too far from Brontë’s moorland soul risks alienating devotees, suggesting Fennell’s vision, though visually arresting, might thrive better as original fare than a reimagined classic.
The moorland reckoning
Sifting expert takes and fan furor, opinions converge on Wuthering Heights as a visually stunning but emotionally barren romp—critics like those in The New Yorker decry its failure to plumb Brontë’s despair, while social buzz echoes whitewashing woes. In conclusion, the hate feels earned; Fennell’s flashy fever dream dazzles yet dilutes the novel’s wild soul, better suited to original sin than sacred adaptation.
