Wuthering Heights
I loved it – although I suspect Brontë fans who think the most admirable take on her novel to date is the musical version starring Cliff Richard in a self-adhesive beard will choke on the film like it’s a misshapen mint humbug.
The wildlife close-ups, the sensitivity to the weather and seasons, the twin obsessions of sex and death: all of this put me in mind of the brutal, lyrical work of the Japanese director Shohei Imamura, particularly his 1983 saga of life in a remote mountain village, The Ballad of Narayama.
Although Arnold and her talented cast succeed at times in evoking a flickering feeling of desperate love and loss, at others – such as Heathcliff’s final scene with Cathy’s corpse – it feels as if she is straining crudely for the extremes. This is an odd, spare film; the essence of Wuthering Heights remains to be captured.
Disturbingly naturalistic.
Remarkable soundtrack designed by Nicolas Becker that incorporates wind, birdsong, barking dogs, rain, the flapping of shutters, the whispering of leaves, the chattering of insects and the creaking of trees into a great symphony of nature.
The film is by no means negligible.
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