Just in time for Valentine’s Day 2026, a bold new adaptation of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights has arrived in theaters, igniting both excitement and controversy among audiences and critics alike. Directed, written, and produced by Emerald Fennell—known for her provocative work on Promising Young Woman and Saltburn—the film stars Margot Robbie as Catherine and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, offering a modern, sultry spin on a nearly 200-year-old literary classic.
From the outset, the film makes clear it’s not your grandmother’s Wuthering Heights. With jeweled costumes, an original album by Charli XCX, and a visual style that is part gothic, part glitter, Fennell’s adaptation leans heavily into the romance and spectacle of Catherine and Heathcliff’s doomed love. As Robbie herself noted in an interview with KABC, "I think a lot of people get that opening sequence. It's kind of like permission to be like, 'Oh, this is not whatever I was thinking. That's not going to be that. So I can just be on this ride now.'"
Robbie, who originally joined the project as a producer, was so taken by the script that she decided to step into the role of Catherine. Her co-star, Jacob Elordi, is coming off a standout awards season, having earned Oscar, Golden Globe, and BAFTA nominations for his role in Frankenstein. Elordi told KABC, "I'm actually so excited that I got to come straight into a press tour to sell what feels like a perfect double feature after 'Frankenstein' into 'Wuthering Heights' to sort of get that kind of recognition in these sort of gothic parts. It's pretty exciting for me."
Yet, beneath the film’s lush visuals and passionate performances lies a deep rift between Fennell’s vision and Brontë’s original novel. Critics and scholars have taken note. According to Northeastern Global News, the film’s promotional material bills it as “inspired by the greatest love story of all time,” but experts argue that the original 1847 novel is far more than a simple romance. Lori Lefkovitz, a professor of English at Northeastern University, remarked, "The power of the landscape and the passion between these two characters is attractive for film. But there is so much (more) to it. I would urge people to read the novel because of its literary complexity and deep exploration of psychological and social issues. (It has) a depth that may or may not be in the film."
Indeed, Fennell’s adaptation has been criticized for omitting or altering many core elements of Brontë’s work. The film dispenses with the novel’s second half—where the cycle of revenge and trauma extends to the next generation—and instead focuses solely on Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship. This choice, while not unprecedented, means that the story’s exploration of intergenerational trauma, class, and the eventual hope of breaking a cycle of abuse is lost. As Lefkovitz put it, "It’s a story of child abuse. The fact that it’s intergenerational and you have a third generation (that breaks the cycle), that gives you hope."
Perhaps the most contentious change is the film’s portrayal of its principal characters. In Brontë’s novel, Catherine and Heathcliff are deeply flawed—obsessive, selfish, and often cruel, inflicting pain on themselves and those around them. In the movie, however, both are rendered more sympathetic and likeable. As Sarah Lang wrote in her review, "The film’s Heathcliff is too calm, even gentle, for someone who will basically become a devil. The film’s Catherine is strong-willed but loving, not the spoiled brat of the book. Essentially, they’re likeable and sympathetic in the film, whereas in the book they’re awful people who inflict pain on others and bring about their own misfortune – something that is key to the story."
The adaptation also takes significant liberties with the story’s sexual content. While Brontë’s novel is famously chaste—Catherine and Heathcliff never even kiss—Fennell’s version features multiple explicit sex scenes, to the point that, as Lang wryly observed, "there’s so much sex that they do a montage, then add some more sex scenes in, then some more." This bold approach has divided audiences, with some praising the chemistry between Robbie and Elordi, while others lament the loss of the novel’s psychological tension and repression.
Another major point of contention is casting. Heathcliff, described as racially ambiguous and an outsider in the novel, is played by Elordi, who is white. This decision has stirred controversy, with critics and scholars noting that Heathcliff’s outsider status—rooted in both class and race—is central to the book’s themes. Tarushi Sonthalia, a teaching professor at Northeastern, commented, "That’s a core part of the outsider status. It was a very intentional part of the transgression of the love that existed between him and Cathy and you’re losing out on that with Jacob Elordi." Fennell, for her part, has defended her choices, stating in an interview with the L.A. Times that she “wanted to make her own version” of the story, not a straightforward adaptation.
Critics have not held back. The Guardian called the film “an emotionally hollow, bodice-ripping misfire.” ScreenRant described it as “flavorless” and “skin-deep,” while The Independent argued it “uses the guise of interpretation to gut one of the most impassioned, emotionally violent novels ever written, and then toss its flayed skin over whatever romance tropes seem most marketable.” Collider was even harsher, calling the experience “a jarring, vapid, and ultimately insulting experience” and suggesting that “Emily Brontë is absolutely rolling in her grave.”
Not everyone is so critical. Some viewers, especially those unfamiliar with the original novel, have found themselves swept up in the film’s melodrama and spectacle. In an op-ed, one writer admitted, "I went into this movie as a certified hater of Saltburn. But oh, woe is me, I had a great time anyway. I loved the electric chemistry between Elordi and Margot Robbie. I loved their tragic, cruel back-and-forth. I loved the glittering, historically inaccurate costumes and sets. For the love of god, I even shed a tear at the end."
This divergence of opinion underscores a broader debate about literary adaptations: Should filmmakers remain faithful to the source, or is there room for bold reinterpretation? As Lang observes, "I’m not yelling, ‘It’s not text! It’s not canon!’ But I believe that an adaptation should be faithful where it can be, at the core. And ‘Wuthering Heights’ is wildly different from the book, to the point it feels almost like a betrayal."
Whether viewers see Fennell’s Wuthering Heights as a fresh, passionate reimagining or a misguided misfire, there’s no doubt it has reignited interest in Brontë’s original—and in the perennial question of what makes a great adaptation. As the credits roll, some may reach for tissues, others for the book itself, but all will leave with plenty to discuss.