\n<\/p>\n
E<\/span>merald Fennell cranks up the campery as she reinvents Emily Bront\u00eb\u2019s tale of Cathy and Heathcliff on the windswept Yorkshire moor as a 20-page fashion shoot of relentless silliness, with bodices ripped to shreds and a saucy slap of BDSM. Margot Robbie<\/a>\u2019s Cathy at one stage secretly heads off to the moor for a hilarious bit of self-pleasuring \u2013 although, sadly, there are no audaciously intercut scenes of thirst-trap Heathcliff, played by Jacob Elordi<\/a>, simultaneously doing the same thing in the stable, while muttering gruffly in that Yerrrrrkshire accent of his.<\/p>\n This then is Fennell\u2019s Wuthering Heights, or rather \u201cWuthering Heights\u201d; the title archly appears in inverted commas, although the postmodern irony seems pointless. Cathy is a primped belle quivering in the presence of Heathcliff, who himself is a moody, long-haired, bearded outsider, as if Scarlett O\u2019Hara were going to melt into the arms of Charles Manson. However, he does get substantially Darcyfied up later on, rocking a shorter and more winsome hairstyle, his gossamer-thin shirt never dry.<\/p>\n As a child, young Cathy Earnshaw (Charlotte Mellington) is a pert miss, indulged by her roistering old twinkly eyed squire of a dad, in which role Martin Clunes pretty much pinches the whole film. Fennell<\/a> incidentally abolishes the character of Cathy\u2019s elder brother Hindley from the book (along with his wife and son) reassigning Hindley\u2019s ruinous boozing and gambling to the father; Fennell also, in line with traditional WH adaptation, loses the next-gen second half of the novel, about the grownup children of Cathy, Hindley and Heathcliff. She also very feebly erases the issue of Heathcliff\u2019s dark skin \u2013 and maybe those inverted commas are intended to shrug off issues of \u201cauthenticity\u201d.<\/p>\n