Brat Summer on the Moors: An Emerald Fennell Wuthering Heights Review (2026)

The windswept Yorkshire moors have seen many things over the centuries, tormented souls, ghostly apparitions, and enough brooding to power a small city. But they have likely never seen anything quite like the Emerald Fennell treatment. In her latest cinematic outing, Fennell has taken Emily Brontë’s jagged, gothic masterpiece and dipped it in the neon-soaked, campy aesthetic of a high-fashion editorial. If you thought Saltburn was a provocative provocation, buckle up: the Wuthering Heights 2026 adaptation is here, and it is determined to be the most "unserious" tragedy you’ve ever witnessed.

A Postmodern Moor: Decoding "Wuthering Heights"

From the moment the title cards flash on the screen, Fennell signals her intentions. The title appears as "Wuthering Heights", enclosed in arch, self-aware inverted commas. It’s a move that tells the audience immediately that this isn't your grandmother's Brontë. This is a Wuthering Heights film that exists in a state of constant, postmodern irony.

The story, at its core, remains the same: the obsessive, destructive love between Catherine Earnshaw and the foundling Heathcliff. However, Fennell’s lens transforms the tragedy into a "20-page fashion shoot of relentless silliness." The grit of the 19th-century North is replaced with ripped bodices, BDSM undertones, and a vibe that feels more like a Charli xcx music video than a period drama.

The Cast: Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi’s Thirst-Trap Tragedy

At the center of this storm are two of Hollywood’s biggest heavyweights. Margot Robbie takes on the role of Cathy, evolving from a "pert miss" into a primped belle who seems to be vibrating with repressed (and occasionally very expressed) desire. Robbie brings a level of comedic timing to the role that is unexpected; one particular scene involving Cathy’s "self-pleasuring" on the moor is played for laughs rather than gothic yearning, highlighting Fennell’s commitment to the camp.

Opposite her is Jacob Elordi, who continues his streak of playing complicated, dangerous heartthrobs. His Heathcliff begins as a "moody, long-haired, bearded outsider", a look the review likens to Charles Manson, before undergoing a "Darcyfied" transformation. Once he returns from his mysterious years away, he is all winsome hair and gossamer-thin shirts that conveniently never seem to dry.

While the chemistry is undeniable, this Wuthering Heights review must note that Elordi’s Heathcliff is more "thirst-trap" than "soul-shattering demon." He mutters in a gruff "Yerrrrrkshire" accent that feels like it’s in on the joke, fitting perfectly into the film’s "club night of mock emotion."

Radical Changes and Creative Erasure

Emerald Fennell has never been one for strict adherence to source material, and her Wuthering Heights is no exception. In a move that will likely send Brontë purists into a tailspin, she has completely abolished the character of Hindley, Cathy’s brother. His narrative weight, the drinking, the gambling, the systematic abuse of Heathcliff, is reassigned to the father, Mr. Earnshaw.

Speaking of Mr. Earnshaw, Martin Clunes delivers a scene-stealing performance as a "roistering old twinkly-eyed squire." It’s a delightful turn, even if it contributes to the film’s overall sense of "relentless silliness."

More controversially, Fennell follows the trend of many previous adaptations by lopping off the entire second half of the novel. The story of the younger generation, the children of Cathy, Hindley, and Heathcliff, is gone. Furthermore, the film "feebly erases" the issue of Heathcliff’s dark skin, a pivotal element of the original text's exploration of "otherness" and colonial anxiety. In Fennell’s world, those inverted commas around the title seem to be doing a lot of heavy lifting to excuse the lack of historical "authenticity."

A Baz Luhrmann-esque Spectacle

If the first half of the film is a fashion shoot, the second half is a "tsunami of tears." Once the tragedy truly kicks in, the style shifts into a "frantically, exhaustingly Baz Luhrmann-esque" gear. The soundtrack is heavily influenced by the hyper-pop energy of Charli xcx, making the film feel less like a 19th-century drama and more like a 136-minute high-concept video.

Supporting the leads is Hong Chau as Nelly Dean. Nelly is famously one of literature's most unreliable narrators, and Fennell leans into this. In a rare moment of narrative subversion that actually hits the mark, the film allows Cathy to confront Nelly on her role as the "witness-instigator" of the chaos.

Meanwhile, the Lintons are given a similarly stylized treatment. Shazad Latif plays Edgar Linton as a "wealthy milquetoast," while Alison Oliver (reunited with Fennell after Saltburn) plays Isabella Linton. In a bizarre twist on the original’s cruelty, Isabella is portrayed as a "smirkingly consenting sub," turning Heathcliff’s legendary malice into a saucy slap of BDSM.

Final Verdict: Luxury Pose or Passionate Truth?

So, where does this leave us in the pantheon of Brontë adaptations?

When compared to Andrea Arnold’s 2011 version, which was a gritty, primitivist, and deeply earnest look at the central romance, Fennell’s version feels like a "luxurious pose of unserious abandon." It is:

• Quasi-erotic

• Pseudo-romantic

• Ersatz-sad

It is a movie that prioritizes the "vibe" over the visceral. It’s an exploration of the idea of Wuthering Heights rather than an exploration of the human heart. If you go in expecting the haunting, soul-aching resonance of the book, you might be disappointed. However, if you go in looking for a high-glamour, witty, and intentionally ridiculous ride through the moors, you’ll find plenty to enjoy.

Emerald Fennell has successfully created a film that is as divisive as its source material’s hero. It is a "brat" adaptation for a generation that prefers irony over earnestness. Whether that is a stroke of genius or a travesty of the classics is entirely up to the viewer.

Wuthering Heights is a wild, messy, and undeniably stylish entry into the 2026 film calendar. It may not have the "live-ammo impact" of Saltburn, but it certainly won't be forgotten anytime soon. Just don't expect to leave the theater without a Charli xcx song stuck in your head and a sudden urge to buy a gossamer shirt.