"Wuthering Heights" (2026) is all mist and no mooring

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

Those with a sharp eye might have observed that the title of one of the most discussed and eagerly awaited films of 2026 is enclosed in quotation marks. This signals to film enthusiasts that it represents just one interpretation of Brontë's novel, rather than a direct adaptation.

So the highly-anticipated film is finally in cinemas, starring Australian duo Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi as Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff and it will divide opinion. Before its release, Wuthering Heights faced backlash for alleged 'whitewashed' casting, while the fans of the classic were left outraged by the erotic undertones in the trailer. For me, the age of the characters is more troubling. When I read the book, Cathy and Heathcliff were always much younger.

For me, the current adaptation of Wuthering Heights is a masterclass in aesthetic curation and a failure in human soul. Directorially, the film is stunning; the Yorkshire moors have never looked more hauntingly beautiful, captured in 70mm hues that make every frame feel like an oil painting worth hanging in a gallery. But as a narrative? It’s a hollow shell.

While the cinematography is undeniably lush, the film mistakes "mood" for "meaning." We are treated to endless sweeping shots of heather and mist, but the emotional landscape remains flat. However, the costume design and period accuracy are top-tier.

To be fair, the cast isn't "bad." The performances are technically proficient, and the actors hit their marks with professional grace. However, there is a fundamental disconnect in the characterization of Catherine Earnshaw. This Cathy isn't a force of nature; she’s a nuisance. The film leans so heavily into her spiteful petulance that it loses the tragic spark that makes her likable—or at least understandable—to the audience. When the central romance feels like two privileged children throwing a prolonged tantrum rather than a cosmic connection, the two-hour runtime begins to feel like a sentence.

For me, Martin Clunes is a revelation and gives an amazing performance, easily worthy of an award

This is Wuthering Heights for the Instagram era: beautiful to look at, easy to crop, but entirely devoid of a beating heart. If you want a visual screensaver of the English countryside, this is your film. If you want the raw, agonizing soul of Brontë’s masterpiece, you’re better off staying home and re-reading the book.