A Seattle moviegoing lifestyle magazine
Wuthering Heights is both the title of Emily Brontë’s only novel, published in 1847, and a new film by Emerald Fennell, out this week, which I will refer to as “Wuthering Heights.” One bears some resemblance to the other, but not too much, hence the quotation marks. It is like when there was once a Seattle rock band called “The Rolling Stones.”
The story is a metaphor for many things and if you read it in high school English I’m sure you discussed more than your fair share of conclusions, so I’ll digress from that. However, what I’ve read of and from her, Mary Shelley loved the macabre. Dark stories that hit at the heart of our deepest desires and most crippling weaknesses. Intensity is the key. I had an inkling, but even while watching del Toro’s take on this story, I was confident Shelley would be enthralled by his re-imagining.
