Wuthering
Heights
If
your knowledge of Emily Bronte’s most Gothic of Gothic novels consists mainly
of Kate Bush running around a wood full of dry ice like a goggle-eyed loon
whining about being cold, Andrea Arnold’s latest adaptation may be a little bit
of a shock. It’s a grittier,
grimier, earthier version of Wuthering Heights than we’re used to; Merle Oberon and
Laurence Olivier’s star-crossed lovers replaced by a pair of foul-mouthed wild
children.
Mr
Earnshaw (Paul Hilton) on a trip to Liverpool takes pity on a homeless boy
(Solomon Glave) and takes him home to his bleak, windswept Yorkshire hill farm,
Wuthering Heights, adopting the black former slave as his own and making a
place for him in his family.
Christened
Heathcliff, the boy soon forms an intense bond with Earnshaw’s wild, willful
daughter Cathy (Shannon Beer) and earns the enmity of Earnshaw’s bullying son
Hindley (Lee Shaw). Roaming the
moors alone together, Heathcliff and Cathy’s friendship morphs into an
all-consuming, obsessive love.
However,
after Earnshaw dies, Heathcliff finds himself reduced to a status below that of
a servant by the vindictive Hindley who brutalises him mercilessly, treating
him worse than an animal. Learning
Cathy has become betrothed to the foppish son of wealthy, neighbouring family
the Lintons, Heathcliff disappears into the night.
Returning
years later having made his fortune, Heathcliff (now played by James Howson) is
still driven by his curdled love for Cathy (now played by Kaya Scodelario) now
married to Edgar Linton (James Northcote). Resolving to get even with those who shunned him as a child,
Heathcliff sets about ruining Hindley and seducing Linton’s younger sister. But tragedy awaits…
Opening
with the adult Heathcliff ramming his own head against a wall in an attempt to
batter himself senseless (a course of action I felt like emulating two thirds
of the way through if only I’d had a wall), like most adaptations of Wuthering
Heights,
Arnold throws away the last half of the novel (all that convoluted stuff with
the next generation), choosing to concentrate upon the doomed, unrequited
passion between Heathcliff and Cathy.
She also dispenses with the more melodramatic treatment of other
adaptations in favour of a more naturalistic approach, tossing away most of the
dialogue, adopting an aural and visual style reminiscent of Terrence Malick at
his most willfully obtuse; her restless camera focusing on Yorkshire’s flora
and fauna while the winds howl and you strain to here what little dialogue
there is.
It’s
a pity then that shorn of so much, the film still feels curiously lengthy
despite a rushed denouement. Wind-blasted, dark, wet and bleak, Yorkshire looks
about as welcoming as the Moon and feels like just as alien a landscape and
Arnold’s boldest gambit – casting a black actor as the brooding, Byronic
Heathcliff feels like a misstep, adding little to Bronte’s story and making his
rejection by society feel a little too easy while some of the dialogue
(Heathcliff telling the stuck-up Lintons to “Fuck off, you cunts”) feels
disappointingly 21st century.
Glacially-paced
and austere, with over half the film devoted to the two feral young lovers
rampaging around the moors, the biggest problem with the film is its
performances and its decision to swap actors just over halfway through. While Glave makes for a sympathetic if
sullen young Heathcliff and Shannon Beer is fantastic as the young Cathy, an
almost elemental force of nature with charisma to burn, Arnold is rather less
well-served by their older counterparts.
For starters neither of them even look remotely like the younger actors,
Scodelario in particular, with her covergirl looks, is a completely different
physical type from Beer, and Howson can’t quite overcome the fact that there’s
more to Heathcliff than just being a sulky blank. Scodelario is a little better but underused as Cathy but at
least makes a decent fist of a Yorkshire accent. You don’t have anything invested in the older actors so when
the emotional screw is turned, you don’t really care and crucially the two
actors lack chemistry, something that can’t be said for their younger
counterparts.
Too
restrained and lacking in passion to truly grip you, one scene hints at just
how great a film this could have been and underlines what a wasted opportunity
it is. After a brutal whipping
Beer’s Cathy tends Glave’s Heathcliff’s wounds, tenderly licking blood from his
back. It’s a scene suffused with
such animal longing and raw eroticism it’s painful to watch.
Uninvolving,
tedious but boasting one of the best performances of the year in Beer, Wuthering
Heights is
one melodrama that could have done with being a bit less mellow and having a
bit more drama.
David Watson
Director
Andrea Arnold
Cast
Kaya Scodelario, James Howson, Shannon Beer, Solomon Glave,
Oliver Milburn, Lee Shaw, Nichola Burley, Paul Hilton
Country
USA
Running time
128 minutes
Year
2011
Certificate
15
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