When Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of Wuthering Heights hit theaters on February 13, 2026, audiences expecting a faithful retelling of Emily Brontë’s classic novel were in for a surprise. Instead of the sprawling, decades-long saga that has captivated readers for nearly 200 years, Fennell delivered a feverish, self-contained romance—one that ends abruptly with Catherine’s death, leaving the generational aftermath and the possibility of narrative closure offscreen. As reported by USA Today, this bold reinterpretation trims away much of Brontë’s intricate plotting to focus squarely on the doomed passion between Catherine and Heathcliff, played by Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi.
For those familiar with the original 1847 novel, the differences are striking and, at times, jarring. Brontë’s story famously stretches across generations, chronicling not only the destructive love between Catherine and Heathcliff but also the lives and wounds of their children. In the book, Catherine dies shortly after giving birth to her daughter, Cathy, who grows up to marry Heathcliff’s frail son, Linton, and eventually forms a redemptive bond with her cousin Hareton. Their relationship offers a glimmer of hope after years of cruelty, culminating in plans for marriage as Heathcliff—haunted by Catherine’s memory—dies. Fennell’s film, however, removes this entire thread. As Yahoo Entertainment points out, the adaptation ends about halfway through the novel, omitting many critical scenes and characters.
So what does Fennell’s version offer instead? The film zeroes in on the tempestuous affair between Cathy and Heathcliff, portraying their love with a rawness and explicitness absent from Brontë’s pages. The movie introduces latex and sparkles into Regency-era costumes, and doesn’t shy away from scandalizing graphic sex scenes—choices that immediately signal a departure from the source material. The passionate whirlwind between Cathy and Heathcliff is depicted with intensity, including scenes of clandestine meetings in gardens, on the moors, and even in horse carriages. Their love, as the film makes clear, is as much physical as it is emotional.
The screenplay takes liberties with character relationships and motivations. For example, Cathy’s brother Hindley, a major antagonist in the novel, is mentioned as deceased and never appears onscreen. His storyline is merged with that of Cathy’s father, who, in a sharp twist, is portrayed as a cruel tyrant rather than the kind, if flawed, patriarch of Brontë’s imagination. According to Cosmopolitan, this composite character plunges the family into debt, drinking, and gambling, further darkening the film’s atmosphere.
Heathcliff’s origin story also diverges from the original. In Brontë’s novel, Mr. Earnshaw brings Heathcliff home from Liverpool, fueling speculation that he might be Earnshaw’s illegitimate child. The film, however, introduces Heathcliff arriving with a father-like figure before being taken in by Mr. Earnshaw as a "pet" for Cathy. This decision, along with casting Jacob Elordi—a Caucasian actor—as Heathcliff, has drawn criticism for white-washing. Fennell addressed these concerns in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, saying, "Everyone who loves this book has such a personal connection to it and so you can only ever kind of make the movie that you sort of imagined yourself when you read it." She added, “That’s the great thing about this movie is that it could be made every year and it would still be so moving and so interesting.”
Other characters are dramatically reimagined or omitted. Nelly, who serves as the housekeeper and a key narrator in the novel, is recast as Cathy’s companion, less involved in household chores and more a confidante. Joseph, the cantankerous old servant in Brontë’s tale, becomes a younger, comic-relief character with a sexual subplot. The film omits Mr. Lockwood, the original narrator, and instead opens with a stark, graphic scene of a public hanging—an event entirely absent from the book.
The affair between Cathy and Heathcliff is not just emotional but overtly sexual, a stark contrast to the novel’s more restrained depiction. The movie even explores Cathy’s sexual awakening, including a scene where she observes Joseph and a maid together in the stables and later pleasures herself on the moors—again, themes not present in Brontë’s work.
The plot diverges further as Cathy and Heathcliff’s affair unravels. After Cathy marries Edgar, Heathcliff elopes with Isabella, who is Edgar’s ward in the film rather than his sister as in the novel. This elopement is framed less as a calculated move for inheritance and more as Heathcliff’s way of retaliating against Cathy for ending their affair. Cathy’s health deteriorates after learning of Heathcliff and Isabella’s union, and she succumbs to illness and a miscarriage. Heathcliff arrives too late, cradling Cathy’s body as memories of their relationship flicker on the screen. The film closes on this note of doomed passion, forgoing the redemptive arc and generational healing that Brontë envisioned.
Fennell has been upfront about her creative choices. Speaking to USA Today, she admitted, “It’s such a dense, complicated piece of work. Adapting it was always going to be really difficult. I had to kill a lot of my own darlings in order to make the story work in two hours.” She described the film as a "one-off," with no plans for a sequel or continuation. Fennell noted that most film adaptations, including the 1939 classic with Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon, have also focused largely on the first half of the novel, rarely attempting the full sweep of Brontë’s narrative. “There’s a world where this is a miniseries and you really get into deep, deep detail of every single thing that happens,” she said. “But for me, the thing I connected to as a reader was always (Catherine and Heathcliff). I also don’t know if I’d be very good at sequels!”
The result is a film that has divided critics and fans alike. Some appreciate Fennell’s willingness to reinterpret the source material, capturing the emotional intensity she experienced as a teenager reading the book. Others lament the loss of the novel’s complexity and its ultimate message of healing and reconciliation. The omission of the younger generation—Cathy’s daughter, Linton, and Hareton—removes the possibility of redemption, leaving viewers with a story that is, as Yahoo Entertainment puts it, "heartbreaking," but perhaps less satisfying for those seeking closure.
As Fennell’s Wuthering Heights continues to spark conversation, one thing is clear: this adaptation is unapologetically its own, a bold and provocative reimagining that invites audiences to experience Brontë’s tale of passion and pain through a new, if controversial, lens.