Few upcoming films have stirred such immediate aesthetic obsession as Wuthering Heights, the highly anticipated new adaptation of Emily Brontë’s classic, directed by Emerald Fennell. Even before its release, the film has already cemented itself as a visual event. Between the haunting trailers, carefully staged official stills, early critical reactions, and a meticulously styled press tour led by Margot Robbie, the aesthetic world of this Wuthering Heights feels fully intentional, immersive, and unmistakably contemporary.
I personally adored the original novel. I remember reading it in two days when I was a teenager, and it stayed with me forever. I wouldn’t call myself a fan, however. As we all know, more than ever right now, this literature classic has a huge cult following, and they were not super happy with the new film’s creative liberties, compared to the original story.
But more on that later.
Fennell is no stranger to bold visual language. After Promising Young Woman and Saltburn, expectations were already high, but Wuthering Heights appears to mark a tonal shift rather than a repetition. The imagery released so far suggests a restrained, atmospheric approach that leans deeply into gothic romanticism, emotional severity, and raw landscape. This is not a polished, heritage-style period drama. It feels elemental, weathered, and psychologically charged.
From the very first trailer frames, the landscape dominates. The moors are not a backdrop but a presence. Sweeping shots of windswept hills, heavy skies, and vast, empty expanses create a sense of isolation that feels almost oppressive. The color palette leans toward muted earth tones, cold greys, mossy greens, and stormy blues, punctuated occasionally by stark whites and inky blacks. Light is used sparingly, often diffused through fog or cloud cover, which gives the film a perpetual twilight mood. Everything feels damp, cold, and emotionally exposed.
Courtesy of Warner Bros. – © Warner Bros.
Costume design plays a crucial role in grounding this atmosphere. Rather than ornate Victorian silhouettes or decorative detailing, the clothing seen in official stills appears practical, austere, and emotionally coded. Coarse fabrics, heavy layers, and worn textures dominate. Characters look dressed for survival rather than display, which reinforces the story’s themes of obsession, endurance, and emotional brutality. There is a noticeable absence of visual softness. Even moments of intimacy feel sharp-edged.
Early critics who have seen preview cuts or extended footage often highlight how Fennell resists romanticizing the story in an obvious way. Instead of leaning into lush nostalgia, she emphasizes discomfort and intensity. Love, in this adaptation, appears turbulent rather than tender. The camera lingers on faces marked by restraint and inner conflict, and framing often isolates characters within the frame, reinforcing emotional distance even in shared scenes. This visual language aligns closely with Fennell’s interest in power dynamics and psychological tension, but here it feels quieter and more elemental.
What makes this project particularly fascinating is how the film’s aesthetic extends beyond the screen and into its promotional world. Margot Robbie’s press tour wardrobe has been carefully aligned with the film’s mood, creating a cohesive visual narrative between character and actress. Rather than traditional red carpet glamour, her looks lean into modern gothic restraint. Structured silhouettes, long lines, and dark, moody color palettes dominate. Black, deep charcoal, muted ivory, and shadowy metallics appear repeatedly, often paired with minimal makeup and sleek hair that feels intentional rather than decorative.
Courtesy of Warner Bros. – © Warner Bros.
In fashion editorials released alongside the film’s promotion, Robbie and her co-stars are styled in ways that echo the film’s emotional tone rather than its historical setting. There is no literal period cosplay. Instead, the looks reference gothic romance through texture, contrast, and mood. Think sharp tailoring softened by sheer fabrics, romantic silhouettes grounded by heavy boots, and styling that feels dramatic but never theatrical. The message is clear. This is Wuthering Heights translated for a contemporary visual language.
This approach feels especially resonant in today’s aesthetic culture, where gothic sensibilities are having a quiet resurgence. Not the maximalist, costume-heavy gothic of past decades, but a more restrained, emotional version. One rooted in atmosphere, inner turmoil, and visual subtlety. Fennell’s adaptation seems perfectly positioned within this shift. It taps into the current fascination with dark academia, romantic melancholy, and nature as emotional mirror, without feeling trend-driven or superficial.
What we know so far suggests that this Wuthering Heights will not aim to comfort its audience. Visually or emotionally. Instead, it appears designed to unsettle, to linger, and to invite interpretation. The aesthetic choices point toward a film that values mood over spectacle and emotional truth over visual prettiness. Every still released feels deliberate, every styling choice controlled, every visual moment heavy with intention.
As more material is released and the film finally premieres, this aesthetic world will undoubtedly expand and evolve. For now, what we have is already remarkably coherent. A gothic adaptation that understands darkness as texture rather than shock, romance as intensity rather than softness, and beauty as something raw, windswept, and unresolved.
This is a story we already know, but visually, it feels like we are being invited to see it again for the first time.
Love,
Lucy ♡₊˚
