This article contains major spoilers for “Wuthering Heights.”

Emerald Fennell’s highly-anticipated adaptation of “Wuthering Heights” is finally here, and g’lawd did the “Saltburn” and “Promising Young Woman” director make some massive changes to the source material. While I certainly wouldn’t classify the film as one of the worst movies based on books (that honor is reserved for “The Electric State”), “Wuthering Heights” is certainly going to be one of the most controversial and an adaptation righteously doomed to be polarizing. Fennell’s take on the material is questionable, with the film’s lush, lavish production design serving as a distraction about as effectively as jingling car keys in front of a baby. It’s a clinch cover come to life, which, under any other circumstances, would be a dream come true.

Alas, this is a take on Emily Brontë’s classic novel of the same name, a story that defied literary conventions by refusing to offer a straightforward moral tale and instead prioritized a focus on the destructive capabilities of human emotions. If you’re not familiar with Brontë’s book, Fennell’s version of “Wuthering Heights” is a feast for the eyes with some moderately steamy scenes (especially if you weren’t forged in the Tumblr mines or put in time scouring AO3), but you’ll certainly be missing why so many people are decrying the film’s existence. So, if you’re looking for a general overview of what changes were made to the original novel, consider this an introductory exploration of every way 2026’s “Wuthering Heights” reimagines a classic.

To be fair to Emerald Fennell, the overwhelming majority of “Wuthering Heights” adaptations tend to focus on the novel’s first half — Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship — rather than attempting to capture the full scope of Emily Brontë’s work, which spans roughly 30 years and multiple generations. By narrowing its focus, Fennell’s film sidelines many of the novel’s more unsettling Gothic elements: There’s no ghost of Cathy haunting Heathcliff, and the supernatural undercurrent that provides the book with much of its emotional intensity is absent. This choice also means the movie doesn’t explore the second generation of characters, particularly Cathy and Heathcliff’s children, whose lives are deeply shaped by the cycle of cruelty and revenge inherited from their parents. In omitting this generational fallout, though, Fennell’s adaptation loses one of Brontë’s central themes: how obsession and vengeance echo long after their originators are gone.

Additionally, the film abandons the novel’s layered framing narrative. There’s no Mr. Lockwood to mediate the story, no Nelly Dean to complicate it with her own biases, and no perspectives from Isabella or Zillah to widen the emotional lens. Instead, the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff is presented somewhat matter-of-factly. While this is an interesting creative choice, it makes it less clear to the audience that Cathy is an unreliable narrator, cushioning the moral ambiguity that defines the novel.

Perhaps the most controversial change, however, is the omission of the iconic deathbed scene between Heathcliff and Cathy. Although fragments of the dialogue appear elsewhere, the absence of Heathcliff’s devastating plea (“I love my murderer. But yours … how can I?”) is striking. Artistic liberties are inevitable, but removing this moment is akin to adapting “Romeo and Juliet” without the balcony scene. You can, but why would you?

One of the biggest controversies surrounding Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of “Wuthering Heights” is in the casting of Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff. For those unfamiliar with Emily Brontë’s novel, Heathcliff is not white. While his race/ethnicity isn’t explicitly identified, he is described as having darker skin, is frequently referred to as a “Lascar” (a term for South Asian/Indian sailors), and often has the slur referring to Romani travelers hurled at him as an insult. Much of the reasoning as to why Cathy and Heathcliff cannot be together is that he’s not white, and the racial mistreatment he faces throughout his life motivates the cruelty he shows as he gets older. Fennell complicates this by casting Pakistani actor Shazad Latif as Cathy’s wealthy husband, Edgar Linton. Part of Heathcliff’s jealousy of Edgar is not just that he marries Cathy but also that his whiteness affords him privileges that Heathcliff will never experience. This tension doesn’t exist within the framing of the casting.

Not restricting casting decisions by race is something that should be encouraged, but we cannot ignore the way race will inherently change the meaning of the story. George A. Romero famously didn’t seek out a Black actor to play the hero of “Night of the Living Dead,” but in casting Duane Jones as Ben, the politics of the film completely changed because of his race. Similarly, Hong Chau delivers a fantastic performance as Nelly Dean, who is reframed as the primary antagonist, but as one of the only other non-white actors in the film, “Wuthering Heights” presents Nelly and Edgar as the two biggest obstacles to a happily ever after. Intent does not negate impact, and the optics of this choice are questionable at best and straight-up racist at worst.

Another massive change to the story concerns the men in Cathy’s family, as the kindly Mr. Earnshaw and Cathy’s vindictive brother Hindley — who hates that his father clearly prefers his surrogate son, Heathcliff — are combined into one character. This turns Mr. Earnshaw (played wonderfully by Martin Clunes) into a drunken, abusive gambler. On paper, it’s not a bad change by any means, but the lack of a lifelong antagonist for Heathcliff dilutes the tension keeping the doomed lovers apart and sort of boils the conflict down to “communication issues.”

Similarly, the deeply religious, elderly, and cantankerous servant Joseph is now a sexy sweetheart played by “House of the Dragon” anime villain Ewan Mitchell, who is just as twisted as Cathy and Heathcliff. He no longer represents the rigid traditionalism of previous generations, which, again, furthers the dilution of conflict between Cathy and Heathcliff with society.

Another change, which will undoubtedly be controversial but is at least wild enough to be fun, is the shift in Isabella’s personality. Now Edgar’s ward, instead of his sister, Alison Oliver plays Isabella like an awkward, immature, meek submissive waiting for a dominant to give her orders. Despite knowing Heathcliff will never actually love her and merely wants to use her to get back at Cathy, Isabella gladly submits, going as far as to pursue a submissive pet play role, barking and crawling like a dog. This means Heathcliff doesn’t kill her actual pet dog, as he does in the book, and offers Isabella autonomy instead of her being yet another woman for Heathcliff to brutalize. Buuuuuuut, it once again serves to soften Heathcliff’s cruelty, stripping away what made the book so fascinating.

“Wuthering Heights” is now playing in theaters everywhere.