'Wuthering Heights' Review: Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie Sizzle in Emerald Fennell's Take on the Period Drama

I will say this upfront as I have never read Emily Bronte's novel "Wuthering Heights." Judging from director Emerald Fennell's 2026 film adaptation, I can safely bet that most of the plot has been severely changed to fit Fennell's appreciation for sex and violence onscreen. This version is most definitely not your average period drama, as modern music, smoldering hot actors, and a frostbitten fever dream of montages encapsulate a premise so indistinguishable from the source material that it must be a complete overhaul.

Yet, it works.

As she's done with previous films like "Promising Young Woman" and "Saltburn", Emerald Fennell delights in shocking her audience with scenes of sex and manipulation rolled into one another. "Wuthering Heights" is no different, as the absurd love affair between Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) and Cathy (Margot Robbie) is presented from the start as convoluted to say the least. They meet as children and live in a decaying old house, with Cathy as Heathcliff's protector.

As adults, the two clearly have chemistry, but Cathy's intentions to marry rich tend to get in the way of their happy ending. She meets the wealthy neighbor, Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif), who sweeps her off her feet and instantly provides a life of stability amongst the misty moors...something Heathcliff can't do. After overhearing Cathy admit that marrying Heathcliff would degrade her, he disappears without a trace.

Heathcliff's absence marks one of the film's weaker turns, as we are subjected to a series of montages showing Cathy's life with Edgar and his daughter Isabella (Alison Oliver). What is initially presented as a joyous union becomes negative over the years as Cathy realizes that Heathcliff is no longer in her life.

However, he confusingly returns as a wealthy landowner (hair cut, proper clothes, the works) who has purchased their old home and intends to show Cathy that he is worth fighting for. Elodi's charm and charisma as a performer, standing so tall and speaking so deeply, would make anyone swoon. His electric presence drips with sex and sweat even on the coldest of days.

"Wuthering Heights" seemingly descends into erotic warfare as Cathy and Heathcliff begin a secret affair charged with voyeurism and public self-gratification that feels less gratuitous than defiant. Sex becomes rebellion as Fennell leans into the sensory excess of freezing temperatures, silk dragging through mud, rooms that gleam with hope and despair simultaneously.

It is in these sexually charged moments that the film takes off in new and surprising ways. Elordi and Robbie prove their weight as actors with sizzling white-hot chemistry and glances that would melt any icy exterior. The ensemble around them, including Hong Chau as Cathy's maid, never lifts the film's premise as the two leads do, though they all get their time to shine in moments of self-deprecation.

Robbie's take on Cathy is both alluring and frustrating, as she somehow manages to make you feel bad for her while also wanting her to stop complaining. Many of her grievances feel immature, almost wrapped up in too much self-absorption, making it hard to root for their secret love. She wants Heathcliff's fire and Edgar's safety, but Robbie's acting talents make these contradictions compelling even when they hinder the plot.

As someone coming in blind to this obviously reimagined story, I can't measure what was lost from the original novel's intentions. What I can say is that "Wuthering Heights" is messy, indulgent, and narratively uneven but ultimately addictive when it comes to Elordi and Robbie's onscreen presence. Emerald Fennell reframes a 19th-century tragedy as a modern bad romance where class is fate, love is combat, and passion burns so hot it practically steams against the frostiness.

Robbie and Elordi's presence together onscreen alone is worth stepping into whatever storm Fennell cooks up.