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2011’s Wuthering Heights Is the Horny, Twisted Romance Saltburn Wishes It Was
Andrea Arnold’s adaptation of Emily Brontë’s classic is a hauntingly kinky Valentine’s Day watch.
Doing so sets Arnold’s version apart from other adaptations, in which white actors like Laurence Olivier, Timothy Dalton, and Ralph Fiennes played Heathcliff, and gives Wuthering Heights another layer of friction and another level at which the events onscreen feel forbidden for their time. Contemporaneous reviews were mixed, with pans complaining about the mood ( Eliza C. Thompson called the film “so bleak that it ends up being a little too hard to watch” for Bust) and the wilder erotic swings (“The final scenes are less discomfiting than laughable,” wrote Boston Globe critic Ty Burr). The script Arnold co-wrote with Olivia Hetreed may not include what is arguably the book’s most recognized line — Cathy’s “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same” — yet the film makes up for that omission by luxuriating in the earthly details that amplify this story’s elemental chill.
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