Let’s start by making something clear, I am not here to tell you how faithful - or not - this film is to the book.
That is a job best left to English teachers and fans of Emily Brontë’s iconic novel, or the kind of people who take it personally when their fan-casting is not respected by studios and directors.
If your sole concern is how closely it mirrors Brontë’s work, then feel free to watch any number of previous productions already out there, or make one yourself.
I am here to share my thoughts on the film itself, and I thought it was fantastic.
Director Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman, Saltburn) had the luxury of a fantastic plot to work with.
Catherine “Cathy” Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) and her cruel and alcoholic father (played here by Martin Clunes) take in a boy from the streets, who is to be her pet and whom she names Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi).
Over the years, the downtrodden, mistreated Heathcliff and Cathy become joined at the hip as brother and sister, bonded by Mr Earnshaw’s erratic and shocking behaviour.
As Mr Earnshaw squanders the family fortune, Cathy is forced to seek pastures new and marry into wealth, while Heathcliff, who is enamoured with his companion, leaves in despair.
Without wanting to give away too much, it becomes clear once Heathcliff returns years later that the bond has not gone away.
The cruelty of their characters in navigating the normative constraints that prevent their relationship from happening only adds to the confusion the viewers feel towards them.
Background characters become collateral as two selfish and spiteful characters manipulate to get what they believe is the only thing that matters.
This band of unfortunates are each brilliant in their own way. Australians Robbie and Elordi are more than believable in their baffling yet somehow completely understandable dynamic (and passable Yorkshire accents).
Clunes continues to light up a scene even when his teeth are the colour of quarry slates.
Hong Chau is excellent as Nelly Dean, a salaried friend to Cathy who is cast aside and whose bitterness is subtle but no less harmful.
Alison Oliver straddles the duality of her character, Isabella Linton, the ward, with ease, and Shazad Latif does no wrong as a wealthy placeholder.
Anthony Willis’ score is perfect, with a contribution from Charlie XCX, who shows off her versatility and incredible talent with an accompanying album.
Arguably, the best performer award goes to the mise-en-scène.
The Yorkshire Dales have rightfully been given their flowers. Fennell and cinematographer Linus Sandgren have somehow made the Dales seem both boundless and horribly claustrophobic.
Artistic liberties have been taken with the houses and costumes, but the film is all the better for the use of gorgeous and on the nose colour palette, offering reminders of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland and Guillermo del Toro’s best works.
And of course, there’s the sex …
For months, this film and its actors have been bandied around as part of a media circus which has tried to make viewers believe that they will be watching something as shocking to the modern viewer as Pasolini's 120 Days of Sodom, or as Brontë's sole novel was when it was released.
Yet, the film has nowhere near the levels of debauchery that many assumed it would, but it remains quite racy without ever feeling gratuitous.
On the whole, this is a fantastic film, let down only by one thing.
Whilst Robbie hits her stride in the latter stages of her character’s life, and her chemistry with Elordi is strong, the actual depth of their relationship is somewhat lacking.
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Their childhood and brief time before they part ways somehow does not provide the perfect pay-off, which turns to well-worn visual techniques to remind you just why you are vouching for them (provided they haven’t already completely turned your stomach).
It is odd to suggest, but a run time of 137 minutes does not leave enough room for what ends up being a slightly rushed exercise in relationship building between the two.
Wuthering Heights is currently playing in UK cinemas.
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