Modern artists like Manet, who portrayed purely modern scenes without conforming to the “grain,” provoked viewership fury. French critic of the time, Émile Zola, argued in an essay titled “Édouard Manet”, originally published in 1867, that public outrage simply reveals how tightly audiences cling to expectations of what art ought to resemble. The public, up until this point, had maintained neoclassical values in art: to flatter, narrate, and moralize. Manet refused all three of those familiar imperatives by producing art that felt uncomfortable and bluntly new — a choice that is now heavily applauded. True art, a point Zola returns to time and time again, does not come from a desire to conform to norms or follow the “grain” but from individual temperament and personal vision. 

Nearly two centuries later and across the Atlantic, my girlfriends and I visited the Cineplex on Rue Sainte Catherine to watch Emerald Fennell’s 2026 “Galentines” adaptation of “Wuthering Heights”. The reaction to the film was generally varied. Some praised it, while lovers of the novel jumped to Twitter and Reddit to vent their anger over yet another inaccurate adaptation. To give credit to these bibliophiles, Fennell abandons many of the themes that make this story so impactful by portraying a narrative based on her initial impression of the book as a 14-year-old girl. In depicting this youthful interpretation, Fennell centres the film around a glorified toxic romance between Catherine and Heathcliff. Frustrated viewers were appalled at Fennell’s tone-deafness in foregrounding obsessive love while sidestepping and softening the harsher themes of the novel, particularly those pertaining to Heathcliff’s racial marginalization and the systemic class violence in the setting. 

In reading tweets alleging the film’s negligence, just as I did in December when choosing my winter semester electives, I turned to modern art history. Two hundred years apart, both Manet and Fennell have something in common: they’ve both committed to their personal visions and rejected traditional expectations. Manet counters aesthetic norms and produces art that depicts the tensions of modern life in a way that is truthful to himself. Similarly, Fennell abandons the expectation that adaptations be reflective of their source material to create a film rooted in her own experience, a decision Zola might have applauded. Whether or not you enjoy or even “agree with” either of these artist’s work, they both made the choice to commit to their personal truths and abandon external expectations. In practicing artistic autonomy, they choose their own temperament as an anchor in their work. 

If these two artists are correct and individual temperament is the “True North” of art, it leads us to question: are there traditions or expectations that artists must uphold, or is personal vision all that truly matters? Between these contexts, “tradition” is understood very differently. For Manet, “traditions” are expectations set by the Art Academy surrounding what defines academically valid (and objectively good) art. For Fennell, “tradition” underlines the source material from which she draws her film: Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. Both these artists abandon tradition in their works, making audiences question: where is the line drawn between artistic autonomy and deviations from tradition? 

In deviating from tradition, one can question the difference between innovation and avoidance. 

If artists do have a responsibility to uphold a certain tradition, both Manet and Fennell have failed to do so. Yet we celebrate Manet as a transformative turning point in modern art history. Why? In my opinion, it is because Manet’s work denies the comfort of ignorance and bluntly presents his audiences with uncomfortable social realities, forcing them to analyze their own lives through his work. In contrast, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights does exactly the opposite. While she also deviates from “tradition”, she does so by refusing to inherit the uncomfortable and darker themes of the novel. She allows her audiences to find comfort in the avoidance of difficult themes surrounding the intersection of violence, race, and class. If Manet makes audiences question how closely art should adhere to academic standards, Fennell forces them to question how much personal vision we are willing to accept in interpretations of classic narratives. 

In some cases, we respond well to moving away from tradition when artists depict their personal visions because it feels honest and revealing, confronting you with art rooted in social reality. This is what Manet did in pulling at the seams of academic art to reveal true modern life. On the other side of the coin, moving away from tradition can feel dishonest if viewers don’t feel it is rooted in these social truths — the very social truths that made Emily Brontë’s novel so impactful in the first place. 

Now, as I wrap up this article in my student apartment a few streets from campus, I have to conclude that this argument is somewhat of an open-ended question. I think that is because there is no universal line that separates avoidance from innovation in art. That line is unstable by design, and artists have always toed it by pushing their own personal vision forward while balancing a respect for tradition. Perhaps this tension is what produces great art. That being said, in my art history class, we are still marveling at Manet’s impact on the evolution of modern art two centuries later. But as I left the Cineplex on Sainte Catherine after seeing Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, I got the impression that this particular adaptation might not make it onto the syllabus of a film class in another two hundred years. (Lyla Burt)

Contemporary psychology doesn’t view their relationships as “tragic lovers divided by social class and circumstance.” Instead, people agree that this story is about two deeply wounded people who cannot escape each other’s influence.

Behind the perfect visuals and stunning costumes, it’s still possible to get the idea that this movie is a “psychological horror,” as often described on Reddit. Catherine, Heathcliff, and nearly every supporting character become trapped in a cycle of resentment and revenge.

Wuthering Heights

We went to see Wuthering Heights within the last two weeks, and we totally loved it. I know that a lot of people felt really mixed about it, but we loved it, and so I took the opportunity to see if she might be into listening to Jane Eyre on Audible. I thought she might want to hear what another Brontë sister was writing, but I got sort of a mixed reply on it. We listened to her for a little bit, but I’m still trying. (Padma Lakshmi as told to Marah Eakin)

“She wasn’t a fan of Austen,” Dr Stewart said. 

Charlotte once told critic G.H. Lewes she’d never read Austen (despite her very literary childhood). And after he urged her to give the books a try, she said in correspondence: 

“Why do you like Miss Austen so very much? I am puzzled on that point… I had not seen ‘Pride & Prejudice’ till I read that sentence of yours, and then I got the book and studied it. And what did I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face; a carefully-fenced, highly cultivated garden with neat borders and delicate flowers – but no glance of a bright vivid physiognomy – no open country – no fresh air – no blue hill – no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen in their elegant but confined houses.”

This, Dr Stewart said, might be called “damning with faint praise”. [...]

Basically, her greatest compliment to the author appeared to be something along the lines of, “cool story, Austen!! Now imagine if it had literally any heart, soul, or vim whatsoever...”

Why didn’t Charlotte Brontë seem to like Jane Austen?

We’ll never truly know, but it’s highly possible the more restrained author just didn’t float Charlotte’s boat.

And Austen isn’t the only victim of Charlotte’s sharp tongue, either.

“She liked Dickens even less. She disliked his ‘ostentatious extravagance,’” Dr Stewart told us.

But it’s hard not to wonder if the writer, who was one when Austen died, was sick of unfair comparisons to the literary titan.

“I don’t think there are any meaningful comparisons between the work of the Brontës and Austen. In many ways, they are exact opposites. Although Anne’s Agnes Grey was called a ‘coarse imitation of one of Miss Austin’s [sic] charming stories,’” Dr Stewart explained. 

To that point, he noted that “Emily and Anne [Brontë] were no fans of Austen either”. (Amy Glover)

Haworth, West Yorkshire

Growing up in Yorkshire, I was never far from an idyllic village. One of my favourites has to be Haworth, in the moorlands of the Pennines.

While it might be small, it has some world-class literary credentials — it’s where the Brontë sisters (Charlotte, Emily, and Anne) wrote their iconic novels, including Wuthering Heights.

Head to the Brontë Parsonage Museum, the Grade I listed Georgian building, formerly the home of the sisters which has been preserved to offer a glimpse of their life from 1820 to 1861 — entry is £13.

Brontë fans should also take a country walk to Top Withens, a ruined farmhouse near Haworth, believed to have inspired Wuthering Heights.

And to continue your Victorian education, take a trip on the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway, a five-mile heritage steam train that runs through the village.

Finally, if a day of sightseeing has tired you out, stop for a classic pub lunch.

My favourite is Haworth Old Hall, a cosy inn set in a 16th-century manor house. Try the Whitby Scampi (£14.79) and a pint of local ale for the ultimate Yorkshire experience. (Sophie-May Williams)

Hurlevent

d'après le roman et la vie d'Emily Brontë

mise en scène Maëlle Dequiedt

Comédie de Colmar. Grande salle

Tuesday 17.03. 14h15

Tuesday 17.03. 19h

Wednesday 18.03. 20h

Roman noir et scandaleux, sur fond de landes sauvages du Yorkshire, Les Hauts de Hurlevent d’Emily Brontë plonge dans les tréfonds de la nature humaine. Maëlle Dequiedt explore très librement ce monument de la littérature anglaise, dans un spectacle impressionniste et musical.

En complicité avec la compositrice et performeuse Nadia Ratsimandresy, la metteuse en scène libère toute la puissance de ce texte tempétueux, d’une force tellurique, brute, immorale. Devenu mythique, Les Hauts de Hurlevent reste l’unique roman d’une écrivaine morte à trente ans. Maëlle Dequiedt, artiste associée à la Comédie de Colmar, s’approprie l’histoire tourmentée de Catherine et Heathcliff pour en proposer une version très personnelle, iconoclaste, faite de sensations et d’images fulgurantes, autour des thèmes du roman : la famille, la violence, l’enfermement, le mal. La langue brûlante d’Emily Brontë devient matière poétique et sonore, en anglais et en français, tandis que les fantômes qui habitent l’histoire prennent vie à travers les corps de quatre comédien·nes. La musique, jouée en live aux ondes Martenot — instrument précurseur de l’électro —, suggère puissamment la lande battue par le vent et la pluie, autant que les émotions qui ravagent les personnages. Un voyage sans retour au cœur d’une œuvre obsédante.

Always wanted to step right into Heathcliff and Cathy’s sort-of-love story? Clearly, you’re not alone.

Since it was released on February 13 one thing Emerald Fennel’s somewhat controversial adaptation of ‘Wuthering Heights’ has done is show just how beautiful Yorkshire can be. As a result, Haworth, a tiny hilltop village in God’s Own County, has been swept up in ‘Brontëmania’. Local businesses and guides have apparently reported a major uptake in bookings since the film’s release. (...)

If you’re hoping to make your own Brontëmania trip, the nearest local station is Keighley in Yorkshire – which is on the East Coast Main Line and a direct LNER train away from London, Leeds, York, Newcastle and Edinburgh.

Once you’ve made it to Keighley, Haworth is less than an hour ride away on the Brontëbus – yes that’s really what it's called. For only three quid, the bus takes you past iconic Brontë locations (as well as where The Railway Children was filmed). (Anna Mahtani)

Wuthering Heights still remains in the top ten of the Fiction Paperback Sunday Times Bestsellers List. It's number 9. 

Emerald Fennell’s sexed-up take on Emily Brontë’s gothic romance feels empty. (...)

Maybe Fennell’s Wuthering Heights was, like its protagonists, doomed from the start. If nothing else, watching it has made me wonder why our culture is so invested in this gothic tale as a paragon of romantic longing. Brontë’s novel is about two people whose love, cankered by misunderstanding, narcissism, and a soupçon of undiagnosed mental illness, devolves into a rage that destroys them and their estates; the traditional love plot it is not. Fennell is not particularly interested in exploring that material, but she also doesn’t have enough grasp of the power and promise of romance to produce the film it seems she wanted to make. She missed the essence of Charli XCX’s repetitive call to “fall in love again and again” in “Everything is romantic,” the track used to mesmerizing, vibes-enhancing effect in the film’s early trailer.

She missed the romance, missed why, with the right book or film, we crave letting ourselves fall in love over and over and over. (Eric Newman)

 Because the novel itself was not polite Victorian entertainment. It was wild, obsessive, and deeply strange. Catherine and Heathcliff behave like forces of nature, not characters designed to teach moral lessons. In that sense, the chaotic energy of “Wuthering Heights” feels strangely appropriate.

The internet may continue to argue about casting, costumes, accents, and Charli XCX. The discourse will probably last months. But inside a cinema, away from social media commentary, the film reveals itself as something much simpler.

Not a sacred text.

Just a loud, messy, visually striking movie that is actually pretty fun to watch. (Katarina Doric)

If you’re a purist looking for a faithful adaptation of Catherine and Heathcliff’s destructive, often sadistic but seemingly chaste and tragic love story, you’re going to be pissed. Fennell’s screen adaptation pointedly puts “Wuthering Heights” in quotation marks for multiple reasons. (...)

As someone who reread the book immediately before watching the recent adaptation, the film left a lot to be desired.

In Brontë’s book, just about everyone is kind of awful. A number of her characters, especially Heathcliff, are selfish, vengeful and violent and there is a supernatural element that looms over it all in a way that is fascinating and thoroughly unsettling.

In Fennell’s film adaptation, Heathcliff in particular is highly sanitised. (Martha Mukaiwa)