If you think that your siblings are annoying, just imagine trying to be related to The Brontë Sisters™. Whether or not they admitted it, having a bunch of writers in the family likely brought with it some of the most intellectual, prosaic, petty arguments imaginable. Worst of all, society would forever be obsessed with trying to figure out which one of you is the best. Is it Anne? After all, she has one of the first sustained feminist novels in “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.” No, most would choose instead to bicker about whether Emily or Charlotte was the superior Brontë. It’s for good reason since both are highly accomplished writers, presenting some of the best literature of the 19th century.
One would think that this squabble would only last until either one died. No, that only shifted the conversation back to the public. Now that their bodies had faded into ash, they had these paperbacks lining bookstores to pull off the shelves, throwing in academia as a teacher with elbow patches on his jacket points out the nuanced brilliance of Charlotte’s “Jane Eyre.” For whatever reason, Charlotte seems to be the Brontë of choice as of late, but that doesn’t mean that Emily is giving up. No, she’s still there. It just takes more effort to appreciate her because, as the TV series Peep Show would suggest, “Wuthering Heights” can be a bit of a chore. Also, they don’t have a character as ubiquitous with classic literature as Rochester.
But who could’ve guessed in 2011 that those Brontës would still be at it? In both cases, actor Michael Fassbender was selected for prominent film roles. The only issue was that timing kept him from doing Wuthering Heights. Instead, he did director Cary Fukunaga’s Jane Eyre, which also has the benefit of being the more glamorous Brontë adaptation. Not only did it have a more illustrious cast, but it grossed almost 10 times the amount of Wuthering Heights. Of course, it was a cast made up of unknowns presented by a director who at best could be called a Sundance Film Festival darling, Sure Andrea Arnold had an Oscar nomination for her great short Wasp, but it was hardly a sign that she was taking the world by storm.
In fact, her Wuthering Heights adaptation came in between two of her more noteworthy films Fish Tank and American Honey. They share her love of handheld cameras and cinema vertié where she makes the personal plights of modern aimless women into these fascinating tonal experiences. In both cases, they rank among the greatest indie cinema and Arnold has become considered a pioneer of the modern movement. Her scandal on Big Little Lies aside, she has been one of the most exciting filmmakers to follow.
That may be why Wuthering Heights feels like an odd beast in execution. For a novel that has been adapted to film a dozen times, it approaches things almost free of the pageantry that you might find in the 1939 version by William Wyler. There’s very little exclaimed dialogue. Everything feels quiet, existing more as observers as the camera shuffles around. It’s a bit shaky, feeling more brittle than the grass that Heathcliff (James Howson) walks through with Cathy (Kaya Scodelario) to their secret hiding place. It’s frustrating in this way, especially if you don’t know the source material all that well. Even then, it’s a bold take that can’t help but become enamoring.
The character of Heathcliff is fascinating because Arnold doesn’t help you understand a whole lot about him. The film quickly cuts to Heathcliff in a cabin overlooking a field. Who is he? Where is he? There’s so much that is left to the imagination that only adds to the displacement that the character is meant to feel. His whole life he has been an outsider even within his own community because of some very obvious things.
The most apparent is that Heathcliff is racially mixed and has the outer appearance of a black man. As a result, he’s forced to spend any work time with the farmworkers, plowing fields while his white cohorts are freer to wander around aimlessly. Anytime he tries to stand up for himself, he is berated. There is a discomfort that comes through this community and never goes away. Anytime a major event happens, he is forced to look from afar for fear that he will be judged. Considering that there are moments where he is brutally beaten, the need to be submissive feels obvious, and the realism by which Arnold films these moments forces the viewer to revel in Heathcliff’s discomfort.
The only real shining light is Cathy. She is the compassionate force that gives him any form of happiness. While her “normal” relationship is more toxic and lustful, there is this youthful innocence between the two. There are moments where the two playfully roll on the ground, eventually landing in the mud. Heathcliff splatters Cathy’s face in it, trying to make her look like him. He is so desperate for her internal affection to be something more apparent, and as the years go on they can’t help but grow separate, Cathy forever doomed to the life of a marriage and family that doesn’t have him in it.
Yes, it’s a tragic story that ends on a down note. However, the boldest feeling in the world is that Arnold is obsessed with Heathcliff’s isolation. There are several scenes where he is standing in the dark, the rain pouring over him as he contemplates life. This is where the film becomes such a tonal dividing point.
To those who like their narratives more unconventional, it’s one of the boldest possible takes. There is dialogue, but it feels like it exists just outside of our periphery, forcing us to look at this world that we don’t understand. The colors are grey and dark, hiding a lot of the color as he tries to illuminate it with radiance. Cathy’s wardrobe is probably the only thing that shines through, and it shows how it’s the only thing that draws his eye. In their earlier years, he’s drawn by the red dress, itself a color of lust that makes him feel loved. In her embrace, he feels comfortable. As he gets older and loses it, her dresses become paler, as if their love is disappearing. Cathy becomes more distant and the world is even more uncertain.
There is no theatrics here. Anything that happens occurs in a diegetic manner until the closing credits when a Mumford & Sons song plays. The closest that this comes to anything resembling “flourishes” is in a title card with an impressive font choice that makes it feel more like Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette (2006) than what we’re about to see. With the title card featuring the sight of falling specks, it creates this divide of white things from a black perspective.
Everything else feels like Arnold is capturing the moment as it was. The film has an authenticity so strong that the director forced Scodelario to not shave her armpits throughout the production. For something as trivial and unseen, it showed how much she wanted to make this feel like the real thing. The lighting comes from a natural setting, and it all comes across as this pale, overcast world just consuming Heathcliff. It’s all coming for him, and it’s only in darkness (pitch black) that there is some freedom from the world. Even then, it’s an isolating one that tears at his soul.
Regardless as to whether it’s Arnold’s most accessible film, it’s easily her most accomplished visually. Along with the color motif that makes this Gothic tale at times feel lifeless, she has perfected the exterior shot.
At various points throughout, Arnold lets the camera get lost in the natural setting. Whether it’s Cathy riding a horse through a field or Heathcliff looking through a window, there is a sense of melancholy in the world around them. Even with the ecosystem looking particularly healthy, it feels so depressing. You want to just see a sky peek through the clouds and give this world something fruitful. It’s a sensation you either embrace or reject entirely because it’s a dreary experience, sometimes unintelligible if you’re not in the mood.
Arnold’s vision is cryptic, forcing the viewer to go into a very lonely story that I’ve heard takes certain artistic licenses. Then again, I can’t imagine Wyler’s take being nearly as depressing or as comfortable dealing with racism in this way. Of course, a quick search on Wikipedia would suggest about the book that:
It was controversial because of its unusually stark depiction of mental and physical cruelty, and it challenged strict Victorian ideals regarding religious hypocrisy, morality, social classes and gender inequality. The novel also explores the effects of envy, nostalgia, pessimism and resentment.
A lot of that comes through vividly through a 21st century lens. The shameless melancholy is more overt. Even the shaky camera forces a rattled sense to the characters as the frame barely holds together. It’s unpleasant, not allowing things to end with a convenient answer. It’s why Emily Brontë’s book has withstood the test of time. It’s unrepentant even in comparison to Charlotte’s “Jane Eyre,” which may be just as much dependent on the Gothic tradition, but has more accessible themes at its core. Charlotte at least had a romance that makes it feel more familiar. Emily feels like the brooding teenager wishing to expose the hypocrisy of the world, but she thankfully has the gifts to make it work.
It’s especially interesting to place these in the context of more modern adaptations. Besides Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, films like Far From the Madding Crowd (2014), Little Women (2019), and Emma (2020) took familiar texts and found ways to update them through a modern lens. It wasn’t just that they had some of the best costume designers on tap; it was their ability to look at the themes and understand why these texts have resonated. They’re more than dated stories about a century long gone. They are dealing with the social themes that have long driven society.
What did Wuthering Heights have to say in 2011? It was an ambitious take that forced the viewer to parse through the themes and find something still relevant today. It’s the way that humanity feels isolated from each other, or how harassment still impacts private relationships. It’s more than a confrontational text that could become an easy soap opera. It’s one where these underlying themes inform how we see each other.
Apparently even the casting of Heathcliff was revolutionary. At one point it was going to go to the Irish-German actor Michael Fassbender. Two years prior Tom Hardy played him. It just goes to show that sometimes simple things like this can be altered in ways to help improve a perspective. Is it the best call? I don’t know. What I can say it works for this version, which feels unfairly cruel at every turn, both in how people treat each other and the focus on animal cruelty. Everyone comes across as a manic depressive, and that may explain why Emily has always felt secondary to Charlotte. They’re both great, but one requires more effort to love.
With all of this said, Wuthering Heights is one of the less acclaimed Arnold films despite being one of her boldest. It’s the only film that breaks from a modern perspective and takes her themes of cultural division to a bygone era. Every filmmaker seems to have one novel they want to adapt, and it’s interesting to see what she brought to the text. It may be controversial and stray from other interpretations, but it continues to prove why she’s one of the most interesting directors still working. She goes for that risk, and even at her least interesting, she refuses to compromise her vision. It’s unlikely that there will be another version of Wuthering Heights like this, and that makes it a special anomaly in the literary adaptation canon.
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