Do book-to-film adaptations need to remain entirely faithful to their original source? I’m an English literature major and a classical literature fan; I used to answer with a resounding yes. Now, I’m not entirely sure. [...]

It seems the newest adaptation of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights by Emerald Fennell garnered similar reactions. Most notably, the decision to cast Jacob Elordi outraged as the role of Heathcliff outraged loyalists of the book, who is described in the novel as “dark-skinned.” Adding fuel to the fire were complaints regarding the removal of major plot sections and thematics, leaving behind only a vague memory of the original text.

I used to believe you could measure the quality of a book-to-film adaptation by judging how faithfully it stuck to the source material. I admit, there's something extremely gratifying as a fan of a novel to watch scenes on screen that seem practically pulled directly from your imagination. [...]

We need to make a distinction between movies aiming to present a faithful account of a novel, versus one merely inspired by a story: an adaptation versus a reimagining.

There are countless adaptations of Wuthering Heights, but Fennell makes clear that her addition is not meant to be a replica at all, but rather a transformation. She told W magazine the quotation marks surrounding her title are an effort “to communicate as early as possible that [the film] could only ever be an attempt to take a tiny piece of the book and make sense of it.” While her film is informed by Brontë's novel, Fennell only wanted to depict her personal reaction to it: “I could only take my experience of it and try to translate it.” Fennell felt that it was impossible to adapt such a dense book in full. “I can't say I'm making Wuthering Heights. It’s not possible. What I can say is I’m making a version of it,” she said in a January interview. Fennell is reimagining the story and decidedly not recreating it. What good is it to judge the film as though it were?

The film brings Fennell’s adolescent fantasies to life. She argues that “you can only ever make the movie that you sort of imagined yourself when you read it.” Art is influenced by a multitude of forces. Those include the author’s personal interests and experiences, as well as creations that came before it. Fennell explains that the film reflects her fantasies she had while reading the novel as a young girl. On the casting of Heathcliff, she recounts how she was “struck by how much [Jacob Elordi] looked like Heathcliff on the cover of my … cheap … paperback.” She created a world that didn’t cater to fans but to her younger self. Of course, then, the film felt void of anything except the romance between Cathy and Heathcliff. Clearly, Fennell was captivated by the portrayal of an erotic yet toxic love, and not so much by the nuances pertaining to class and culture.

This is not to say that the source material carries no weight in its being the “original.” However, to demand a film be faithful to the book would assume that novels require an objective reading. I counter this notion with reader-response theory, which argues that a work gains meaning from the reader’s analysis rather than from the author. A novel’s significance becomes determined by readers’ unique experiences and perceptions. Fennell’s interpretation of Wuthering Heights is an example of how creators take a story and reimagine it according to a person’s singular vision and influences. [...]

Fennell is transforming to even greater extremes, as she removes large chunks of the novel and condenses the narrative to focus solely on romance. However, these classics have remained so prominent because of their mutability; whether an adaptation or reimagining, a film cannot reflect one “correct” interpretation of a novel. As a fellow reader, Fennell has creative freedom to display the meaning she imposed on the novel.

While we can (and should) raise our eyebrows at how Fennell’s film overlooked such a defining aspect of a story as Heathcliff’s identity, we must also accept the movie for what it is: a blockbuster that uses one of the most famous literary romances as its base, but not as its example.

To only judge a movie on its closeness to the source material prevents us from truly analyzing films as creative and commercial entities. Yes, “Wuthering Heights” is a bodice-ripping blockbuster with two lead actors whom we’ve all grown tired of seeing. But that doesn’t mean it is void of creative and artistic vision.

Similarly to her last film Saltburn, “Wuthering Heights” places heavy emphasis on extravagant and provocative visuals. The film’s tactile elements evoked a “physical feeling” both disturbing and immersive, such as the fireplace made out of hands and the bedroom walls that look like Cathy’s (Margot Robbie’s) skin down to the freckles and veins. I found the Victorian hairwork title sequence particularly creepy and bizarre. In a promotional video, Fennell reveals that it actually incorporates “some of Margot’s and Jacob’s actual hair,” to make the sequence “feel completely human.” The literal physicality incorporated into the design evokes a visceral disgust toward humanity. That was the intention. Neither Cathy nor Heathcliff is morally good, and their moments of wickedness are only further emphasized by these disgustingly human visuals.

The costumes are likewise excessively extravagant. Designer Jacqueline Durran created pieces over-the-top and not adhering to any specific time period. Fennell told W the film’s “starting point is imagining you’re a young girl who doesn't really know what the Victorian or Georgian eras look like.” Her personal interpretation focuses on feeling above all. Emotion comes from visual indicators, rather than the story itself; depth of plot becomes secondary to the visual medium.

If a film is only critiqued in comparison to the novel, we risk underanalyzing the artistic and narrative elements that make it a unique work. Creative freedom allows for innovation. Although tempting, it is unproductive to criticize filmmakers who expand beyond the original source.

I was struck by how much “Wuthering Heights” diverged from Brontë’s novel. But it was clear that it had no intention of being a faithful adaptation. The movie was different from the book, but both are distinct works with different artistic intentions. There are still elements of “Wuthering Heights” and Frankenstein I do not like, but I’m expanding my view to see beyond the page. The films are not replacements for the novels. They only reflect our unique responses to them.

This doesn’t mean that us literature fanatics are doomed to be left unfulfilled by every classic adaptation that comes out. Instead, we can utilize our critical understanding of literature to analyze how filmmakers reimagine the texts. Engaging in nuanced discourse around classic stories keeps narratives alive. Stories morph and shift with each retelling, just like our interpretations do. Maybe the book is still better than the movie, but the movie doesn’t need to be the book. (Fiona Pulchny)

   

Brontë: A Performance

by Guiem Soldevila
Fri 10 Apr, 7:00pm

St Michael’s and All Angels Church, Haworth

Immerse yourself in the Brontës' poetry like never before. Join us for this special concert of Guiem Soldevila’s latest album Brontë performed against the beautiful backdrop of St Michael’s and All Angels in Haworth, where the Brontë family vault is situated.

Guiem Soldevila performs alongside vocalists Clara Gorrias and Neus Ferri, with spoken narration by Carme Cloquells and dance by Gêliah. All five artists are from Menorca, bringing together music, voice, word and movement in a shared creative journey.

The programme includes musical interpretations of twelve poems: six by Emily Brontë, three by Anne Brontë and three by Charlotte Brontë. Drawing on folk influences, enriched with classical arrangements, this event invites audiences to rediscover the Brontë sisters’ poetry in a deeply moving and contemporary way.

   

Wild Wednesday: Mini Spring Gardens

Wed 8 April, 11am – 4pm

Brontë Event Space at the Old Schoolroom

Celebrate spring at the Brontë Parsonage Museum! With local artist Rachel Lee, use sustainable natural materials and create your own lovely miniature garden to take home with you.

Victorian Hairwork: Histories, Techniques, and Material Practice
Wed 8 Apr, 7:00pm

Online via zoom

Some of the most intriguing items in our collection are those made from the Brontës' hair. During the Victorian era hair was often weaved into jewellery for remembrance. Join us for this online event with conceptual artist and historian Donna Lowson, as she guides us through the history of Victorian hairwork and shows us the process of creating hair jewellery. There will also be an opportunity to ask any questions you may have.

Donna Lowson is an artist, collector, and former hairdresser whose practice centres on working with human hair to uncover the stories embedded within it. Drawing on Georgian and Victorian hairwork, the 19th-century practice of creating jewellery and keepsakes from human hair, she uses making as a research method to uncover marginalised craft traditions and bring them into contemporary practice. Donna has collaborated with Bankfield Museum, contributing demonstrations and workshops as part of “In Loving Memory,” and ongoing museum collection study visits and hands-on historical research inform her work. She leads workshops that invite participants to experience the cultural, material, and historical significance of hair firsthand.