Emerald Fennell, the Oscar-winning director known for her provocative and visually arresting films, has set her sights on one of English literature’s most tempestuous love stories: Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. Released in theaters on February 7, 2026, and opening in the UK a week later, Fennell’s adaptation is already generating a whirlwind of debate among critics and audiences alike. Is it a daring reinvention or a hollow spectacle? The answer, it seems, depends on whom you ask.
From the outset, Fennell signals her intent to break with tradition. The film’s title appears in quotation marks—"Wuthering Heights"—a wink to audiences that this is a personal, fiercely modern take, not a reverent retelling. As The Guardian notes, this version is “a 20-page fashion shoot of relentless silliness, with bodices ripped to shreds and a saucy slap of BDSM.” The film is set against the brooding Yorkshire moors, but its atmosphere is anything but subdued. Instead, Fennell crafts a fever-dream adaptation, swirling with bold colors, anachronistic costumes, and a soundtrack by pop provocateur Charli XCX.
At the heart of the film are two of Australia’s brightest stars: Margot Robbie, 35, as the willful Catherine Earnshaw, and Jacob Elordi, 28, as the tormented Heathcliff. Their chemistry is undeniable. As The Standard’s Vicky Jessop writes, “Robbie and Elordi have bags of chemistry in this unashamedly high-camp adaptation of Emily Brontë’s book.” The pair ricochet between lust and loathing, their relationship as volatile as the moors themselves. Robbie’s Cathy is a gothic Scarlett O’Hara—vain, selfish, and bored—while Elordi’s Heathcliff is less menacing brute and more brooding, passionate protector. Some critics, like The Telegraph’s Collin, defend this focus on style: “Style over substance? Not at all—it’s more that Fennell understands that style can be substance when you do it right.”
Yet not everyone is convinced. Empire magazine observes that while the film’s early scenes capture the raw gothic romanticism of Brontë’s novel, the narrative soon gives way to spectacle. “There is notably more plot to Brontë’s novel than in Fennell’s reimagining,” the review notes, suggesting the film’s intensity is diluted as style overtakes substance. The Guardian’s Bradshaw is even more pointed, describing the film as “sex over substance,” and warning that “Robbie and Elordi’s performances are almost pushed to the border of pantomime, while Fennell’s provocations seem to define the poor as sexual deviants and the rich as clueless prudes.”
Fennell’s adaptation makes several bold narrative choices, paring down the sprawling cast of the novel and focusing tightly on the central triangle of Cathy, Heathcliff, and Edgar Linton (played by Shazad Latif). Gone are characters like Hindley and Hareton. The racial component of Heathcliff’s otherness—so central to many readings of the novel—is removed entirely. Instead, Heathcliff is portrayed as an orphan from Liverpool with a chip on his shoulder, while Edgar Linton, usually depicted as the privileged rival, is played by a British-Pakistani actor, subtly shifting the story’s social dynamics.
The film opens with a scene that is as shocking as it is symbolic: a public hanging that leaves young Cathy (Charlotte Mellington) “downright ecstatic,” as AP News describes. Her father, played with chilling detachment by Martin Clunes, is abusive and unloving, setting the stage for a childhood marked by trauma and emotional deprivation. Cathy’s only companions are the servant Nelly (Vy Nguyen as a child, Hong Chau as an adult) and Heathcliff (Owen Cooper as a child), whom she treats almost as a pet. The Earnshaw home—a shabby, debt-ridden manor—stands in stark contrast to the Lintons’ genteel Thrushcross Grange, a visual metaphor for the class and emotional divides at the heart of the story.
Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is unashamedly maximalist. Costume designer Jacqueline Durran draws inspiration from 1950s melodramas and beyond, creating looks that are intentionally anachronistic: PVC-enhanced dresses, latex-like skirts, and even a cellophane wedding gown. The set design is equally surreal, with Catherine’s bedroom painted to match her skin tone, complete with moles and veins. These choices, while visually arresting, sometimes distract more than they illuminate. As one critic wryly asks, “Is it a good thing if the audience is wondering why Catherine is wearing a cellophane dress for her wedding night?”
The film’s soundtrack, composed by Charli XCX, is a string-electro-screaming-orgy that amplifies the movie’s feverish energy. It’s a far cry from the windswept melancholy one might expect, but it fits Fennell’s vision of Wuthering Heights as a story of “tortured, toxic, obsessive love.” The film doesn’t shy away from the darker aspects of Brontë’s novel—revenge, trauma, lust, and power games are all on full display, with more than a hint of BDSM thrown in for good measure.
Yet for all its visual bravado, some critics find the film emotionally undernourished. “For a character famous for his rage, there is little of that primal ferocity,” notes AP News of Elordi’s Heathcliff. Others lament the loss of the novel’s complexity. As Empire puts it, “Had Wuthering Heights stayed closer to earth, the weight of this tragic romance would hit harder.” Still, there are moments of genuine pathos—Robbie’s Cathy, flustered by desires she can’t control, and Elordi’s Heathcliff, caught between tenderness and cruelty, offer glimpses of the story’s enduring power.
The film’s reception has been as tempestuous as its subject matter. Some hail it as Fennell’s “most purely entertaining film,” praising its “electrically erotic energy” and the “captivating” performances of its leads. Others see it as a missed opportunity, a “garish and stylized fan fiction” that ultimately feels “oddly shallow and blunt.” The Motion Picture Association rated the film R for “sexual content, some violent content and language,” and at 136 minutes, it’s an epic in both ambition and scope.
Whether you find Fennell’s Wuthering Heights exhilarating or exasperating, there’s no denying it’s a film that demands attention. In an era when many literary adaptations play it safe, Fennell’s bold vision ensures that Brontë’s wild, wicked tale continues to provoke, seduce, and unsettle—just as it did nearly two centuries ago.