Movie Review(s): Wuthering Heights
With an introduction of my book to film philosophy.
When it comes to film adaptations of books, opinions on what those adaptations should entail range on quite the spectrum. Many fans who consider their favorite books to be perfection become enraged when the movie version strays at all from the original work. Other bibliophiles, however, do not seem to be quite as bothered when filmmakers take creative liberties with their favorite books.
As both a bibliophile and a cinephile, I consider myself to fall somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. I appreciate literature and film for their artistic creativity and the journeys they can offer, and I acknowledge that each have their own unique methods to communicate their message. Novelists such as Jane Austen have challenged me with the beauty and power of her written words. Filmmakers like Sofia Coppola have challenged me, too, but her power comes from images and sounds and colors.
I try to stay in the middle of the spectrum due to the vastly different nature of books and film. When I watch adaptations of books I admire, I judge the quality of the film by whether it keeps the essence of the book, such as the author’s intended tones and themes and character development, and not necessarily whether it perfectly follows the plot or secondary details. I’ll give a couple of examples.
I think Baz Lurhmann’s 2013 adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby is phenomenal. Some people thought it was over the top, and that it made no sense to have rap music in a movie about the 1920’s. But that’s just it – the novel is over the top. Jay Gatsby is known for his extravagant parties. What better way to introduce Jay Gatsby to a modern, film viewing audience than to use rap music blasting from giant speakers at his house party full of flapper girls?
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott is my all-time favorite book, and Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation is one of my all-time favorite movies, because it keeps the essence almost perfectly intact, telling a story about coming of age with bliss and innocence. However, I do not have such fond feelings toward the 1994 adaptation starring Winona Ryder as Jo March. Yes, I know, very unpopular opinion. But I’m sorry, my Josephine March would never go to the theater with a man and let him kiss her, let alone allow him to get that close in the first place! And I know that Ms. Alcott, who wrote Jo after herself, and declared herself to be a “free spinster who paddles her own canoe,” and wrote Jo March to marry only to please her publisher, would also be appalled.
I recently finished reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. Wuthering Heights is a Gothic novel which tells the story of Heathcliff, an orphan rescued by the owner of Wuthering Heights, Mr. Earnshaw. The novel follows his coming of age, his growing taste for vengeance, his tortured infatuation with Catherine Earnshaw, and his lifetime of stealing his enemies’ happiness. While the novel is certainly about the dark and disturbed Heathcliff, the surrounding characters who dwell in and near the Heights are fraught with their own inner turmoil, struggle, and heartache, especially when they come in close contact with Heathcliff’s diabolical schemes.
Soon after reading, I embarked upon a film adaptation endeavor. I watched the three most popular adaptations and searched for the essence of Brontë’s ingenious mind on the screen. The following is a review of the three versions with my honest thoughts.
Wuthering Heights (1939)
Director: William Wyler
Starring: Laurence Olivier, Merle Oberon
The rainstorm is audible. Catherine Earnshaw stands in a candlelit room, justifying her acceptance of Edgar Linton and rejection of Heathcliff. You, the watcher, know her motive of acceptance is to gain money and status, rather than to avoid a questionable suitor. As she rambles on, attempting to convince herself of her virtue, she inadvertently uncovers her own depravity before herself. After pacing the room, watching the storm, and condemning Heathcliff, Catherine turns her back to the window and gazes beyond the camera with a look of shock: “I am Heathcliff!” A bolt of lightning illuminates the room, simultaneously darkening her face in shadow, and the roar of thunder sends electricity through the viewer.
Brontë’s original characters are complicated. They’re so complicated, I wondered if they could be portrayed with any justice on the screen. However, the 1939 Wuthering Heights does so with great flare. The viewer has no choice but to understand the premise: the situation at the Heights is not one of happiness. Viewers watch Heathcliff grow more vengeful, Cathy grow greedier, and all the chaos intensify due to their deep and unrepentant flaws. Rather than watching a romance that makes one swoon, viewers will find themselves in the toxicity of the Heights – the dark realm which Brontë intended to take her audience to in the first place.
Seeing how color film was not popularized until the 19050’s, the use of black and white film is likely not an artistic choice. However, the black and white adds tremendously to the mood of the film. The black and white filter in addition to the multiple rainy and stormy scenes create a beguiling set which transports viewers into the ominous world of the Heights, and which makes it impossible to soon forget.
Laurence Olivier is perhaps the best part of the film – his portrayal of Heathcliff is moving and devastating. His last monologue, which comes directly from the text, broke me in a way which caused me to rewind and rewatch many times over.
Not only is this a fantastic adaptation, it is simply a great movie. Even if watchers have no connection to Wuthering Heights, there is plenty to enjoy and learn from the 1939 adaption, and those who love film will appreciate the style of filmmaking which is no longer practiced.
Wuthering Heights (1992)
Director: Peter Kosminsky
Starring: Juliette Binoche, Ralph Fiennes
“Here is one world of my imagining I’m going to tell – but take care not to smile at any part of it.”
The 1992 adaptation of Wuthering Heights begins with great promise: an imagined Emily Brontë glides through the green, cloudy moors with an epic score to accompany her. A full view of the landscape comes to view, and an ominously beautiful crescendo is joined by the film’s title on the screen. Our authoress gives introduction to her story, warning us that it is not one of felicity.
I entered with very low expectations, and the opening sequence gave me some hope; I knew the essence of Emily’s story would not be lost here. I was enraptured by the opening sequence, and I found the creative liberty of portraying Emily Brontë as the narrator to be a loving homage, and happy connection for someone like me who greatly admires her and her novel.
Certainly, no essence is lost; this adaptation is extremely faithful to the book. The characters are twisted, the plot is dark, the details are never glossed over. It was satisfying to see Catherine Earnshaw Linton’s mental illness explored in depth on the screen, as the 1939 version glosses over it for the most part.
At first, I was pleased. However, an unexpected boredom suddenly showed itself to me. Less than halfway through the movie, I began to check the time, and mentally track where in the book the movie was to calculate how much longer until the end. I could not understand at first how the film which so faithfully told the plot of a dark and twisted tale was boring me.
Later it hit me – this movie is extremely bland to look at. Yes, the plot is perfectly crafted to match the novel, however it is not translated to the medium of film; it is not curated well enough to keep the viewer’s eye and draw them into the story. The infrequent scenes which took place in the moors are beautiful and eerie, but no other scene is able to keep the tone. The interior of Wuthering Heights, the costumes, the lighting – it is all so unfortunately boring. The cherry on top of the failed aesthetics is the choice to keep everyone’s hair in an early 90’s coif against the period costumes – a detail so seemingly purposeless, I found difficult to look past even in the moments I enjoyed the movie.
One Letterboxd user, Karina, says “Where are the gothic vibes??” Another user, Mayrin_, says “The pace was so fast, yet everything felt slow. The emotions were there, but I couldn’t feel them as my own,” and I must agree with both sentiments. It was heart-breaking; the desire to preserve Emily Brontë’s mind is clearly there, however it fails in drawing the viewer into the world of the Heights. My semblance of hope given by the opening sequence did not last long.
Wuthering Heights (2011)
Director: Andrea Arnold
Starring: James Howson, Kaya Scodelario
The 2011 Wuthering Heights has no shortage of artistically genius and stunning imagery. Mostly every shot has something pleasing to gaze upon, accomplished by very natural lighting and frames lingering on nature’s movements. The complete omission of score adds to its beauty, forcing viewers to be completely undistracted, and instead become absorbed in the sights and sounds of nature at the Heights. Those who love the book will appreciate Arnold’s fixation with the natural elements, as Brontë certainly loved nature and utilized it to tell her story; this film brings her descriptive imagery to life.
While I greatly admired the 2011 adaptation for its beauty, it was difficult to look past the early 2010’s trend of the extremely shaky camera, present from the beginning to the end of the movie. The level of shake used throughout the film ranges from medium to running-out-of-the-premier-of-Cloverfield-because-I-think-I’ll-be-sick. Wuthering Heights is not an action movie which might benefit from the shaky-cam due to its lack of experienced action stars. While there were plenty of moments I enjoyed what I was looking at, most of the other moments were me trying to figure out what exactly I was looking at, since the camera is never still.
Perhaps the movie’s most fatal flaw is that it forgets it should be dramatic. Such is the character of Gothic tales: over the top, barely believable, and loud. While the film successfully shows viewers the world of the Heights, it is not able to pull them in completely. It is almost too real. The acting is almost too good, too subtle, too believable. While the film gives beauty and interesting plot, there is not enough screaming, or weeping, or screaming while weeping. This film made me realize Wuthering Heights demands theatrical drama, because without it, it falls flat; without it, viewers will not be able to truly experience the Heights.
The 2011 Wuthering Heights faithfully tells Brontë’s plot with generous amounts of striking visuals. It is not boring, by any means, however the lack of dramatics bestows a different mood upon the viewer than the novel will to the reader. It is not quite so much hauntingly unforgettable, like Brontë’s original work, as it is just another story. While it is an enjoyable watch, I will likely not be thinking about it for long.