Emerald Fennell’s much-anticipated adaptation of Emily Brontë’s classic novel Wuthering Heights stormed into theaters on February 13, 2026, and has since ignited passionate debates among critics, literary purists, and moviegoers alike. Starring Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, the film has become both a box office juggernaut and a lightning rod for controversy, thanks to its bold stylistic choices, significant narrative departures, and provocative reinterpretation of Brontë’s dark romance.
From its opening moments, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights makes it clear that this is no ordinary period piece. The film begins with a shocking scene: a man is hanged as onlookers react less to the violence and more to an involuntary physical response. According to USA Today, Fennell explained, “With the first moments of a film, you need to set the tone and say what it is. This is a deeply felt romance. But I also wanted people to understand that it would be surprising and darkly funny and perhaps stranger than they would expect.” She added, “It was important to acknowledge early on that arousal and danger are kind of the same thing – that is what the Gothic is, and it was important that the first thing we see is Cathy, this young girl, seemingly frightened but then actually delighted.”
This commitment to a Gothic sensibility—where beauty and danger intertwine—pervades the film. Fennell’s adaptation leans into modernity with high-contrast visuals, latex and sparkles in Regency-era costumes, and a satirical edge that lampoons the conventions of the classic novel. As noted by Hearst Magazines, these creative decisions signal from the outset that fidelity to Brontë’s text is not the director’s primary concern. Instead, Fennell crafts a world that is both dazzling and disquieting, where the line between romance and menace is constantly blurred.
Central to this adaptation is the relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff. Their love affair is depicted as passionate, raw, and—unlike in the original novel—explicitly consummated. The film shows Cathy sneaking out of her husband Edgar Linton’s (played by Shazad Latif) house to rendezvous with Heathcliff in gardens, on the moors, and even inside her horse carriage. These scenes are set to original songs by Charli XCX, lending a kinetic, contemporary energy to their escapades. As Screen Brief observed, the montage of Cathy’s double life—caught between the emptiness of her marriage and the thrill of her affair—relies heavily on Margot Robbie’s expressive performance, which conveys a torrent of emotion without a word of dialogue.
Yet, for all its visual bravado and modern flair, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights has drawn fire for what it leaves out. The film covers only the first half of Brontë’s novel, ending with Cathy’s death—a narrative choice that omits the entire second generation of characters and the haunting legacy of generational trauma that defines the original story. As Collider points out, “Fennell’s willingness to brush over the younger characters removes the haunting depiction of generational trauma that makes the material so haunting.” The absence of Hindley Earnshaw, Catherine’s brother and Heathcliff’s tormentor, is particularly glaring. In the film, Mr. Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) assumes the role of Heathcliff’s oppressor, but his impact fades quickly, leaving Heathcliff’s motivations for revenge muddled and less compelling.
The consequences of these omissions ripple through the narrative. Without Hindley and his son Hareton, or Heathcliff’s own child Linton, the film forgoes the dramatic irony and sense of cyclical suffering that Brontë so meticulously constructed. Instead, Fennell’s version reframes the story as a series of love triangles, with Cathy’s marriage to Edgar prompted by a deception from her maid Nelly Dean (Hong Chau), and Heathcliff’s marriage to Isabella (Alison Oliver) portrayed as little more than a spiteful reaction to Cathy’s rejection. The result, as Collider laments, is that “Elordi’s version of Heathcliff is simply a petty, petulant spurned lover whose separation with Catherine all comes down to a misinterpretation.”
Fennell has not shied away from defending her creative choices. Speaking to USA Today, she remarked, “All I could do was make a movie that made me feel the way the book made me feel, and therefore it just felt right to say it’s Wuthering Heights, and it isn’t.” Her focus, she explained, was on capturing the emotional intensity and dark humor of Brontë’s world, rather than adhering strictly to the novel’s themes of familial trauma, grief, and revenge. In this, she follows a tradition of adaptation that prioritizes feeling over fidelity—a choice that has both delighted and infuriated fans.
Despite the controversy, the film has been a commercial triumph. According to Screen Rant, Wuthering Heights dominated the box office during its opening weekend and is currently tied with the revered 1939 adaptation for the highest Rotten Tomatoes score (85%) among all versions of the novel. Fennell’s reputation for provocative storytelling—cemented with her previous film Saltburn, also starring Elordi—has only heightened curiosity and debate around this latest work.
The film’s ending, too, has sparked speculation. By concluding with Cathy’s death—an event that occurs only halfway through the novel—Fennell leaves the door open for a possible sequel that might explore the fates of the next generation. As Hearst Magazines notes, the open ending has “left many wondering if a sequel was in the works, perhaps covering more of the material left out of the 2026 film.”
For all its departures, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is not without its merits. The film’s visual style is striking, its performances—especially those of Robbie and Elordi—are magnetic, and its willingness to embrace the strangeness and sensuality of the Gothic tradition marks it as a bold reimagining rather than a mere retelling. The use of montage, particularly in scenes depicting Cathy’s emotional journey, has been widely praised for its effectiveness and artistry.
Still, for many viewers and critics, the film’s refusal to grapple with the full weight of Brontë’s narrative—its generational curses, its psychological complexity, its moral ambiguity—renders it a fascinating but incomplete experience. As Collider succinctly put it, “Unlike the way the romance should have been depicted, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights only skims the surface.”
Whether this adaptation will stand the test of time, or simply spark a new round of adaptations eager to restore what Fennell set aside, remains to be seen. For now, Wuthering Heights is playing to packed theaters worldwide, ensuring that Brontë’s tale—however it is told—continues to captivate and confound.