Two hours after seeing Andrea Arnold’s Wuthering Heights , screening here in competition, I’m still fighting my way across this rugged moor of a movie, a vast, wild place where Arnold’s vision and Emily Brontë’s meet eye to eye and claw to claw. Arnold’s reading of Bronte’s weird, unabashedly sick novel is daring for sure: This is a film filled with interesting choices that, in the end, may not be all that interesting — it’s more self-conscious than Arnold’s other films, Red Road and Fish Tank , perhaps partly because, unlike those movies, it’s based on familiar source material.
View original post here:
Postcard from Venice: Andrea Arnold Gives Us the First Black Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights
