Surround Sound

By Ellen Brewster

Is there a need for a book-to-film adaptation to be true to the original? This is a question many people are asking, not only of themselves but also of those around them. This discussion is being reflected in cinema through multiple high-grossing films that draw ‘inspiration’ from the book – take, for example, Hamnet and Wuthering Heights. Asking oneself this question is an introspective exercise that prompts reflection on which aspects of media one appreciates or values most. There are indeed various elements to this: directing, storyline, casting, staging, and many more. 

Under the direction of Chloé Zhao, with cinematography by Łukasz Żal and featuring acclaimed producers and wonderful actors, notably Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal, Hamnet was almost destined to be an incredible production. It exceeded this expectation; for me, it has to be one of the most incredible films I have had the pleasure to watch, though I spent most of the time sobbing into my partner’s shoulder, who thought this would be a normal date night. What is significant is that Zhao not only follows Maggie O’Farrell’s book closely but also offers a deep and fulfilling humanist engagement with cinema. The value of the film is not directly derived from how closely it follows the book, but rather from how it uses the screen to further embellish the art. In many ways, it is true to O’Farrell’s book, yet we also see Zhao’s own imagination and interpretation of it coming to life. This is done tactfully, so that it can be classified as a sort of critical engagement with the novel and its history. 

The value of the film lies in its nuanced, gentle engagement; it does not proclaim itself a truer depiction or an arrogant, valuable addition to cinematic history. It engages tactfully with the expressions and ideas asserted in O’Farrell’s novel and Shakespeare’s work, whilst incorporating her own humanist style and ideologies. The recurrence of Taoist, Confucian and humanist ideas is evident throughout the production, yet they do not glare at you or stand out as these obvious classifications/labels. It is human, and it is done in such a way that it is simply incredible. Thus, what we have here is something not valued for the production’s originality to the book, but for its understanding, delicacy and introspection of a history of ideas, all of which seep into human existence. 

Like Hamnet, Wuthering Heights should have been an incredible production. It had all the boxes ticked: a great cast, producers, and cinematographer, insane production value, and an incredible classic to base the film on. Yet, unlike  Zhao’s approach to Hamnet, Fennell rips at the seams of the novel with an arrogant disposition. Instead of emphasising the features that made Wuthering Heights so distinctive and compelling, this production moves further away from it, at times even disposing of key elements of the novel. What is clear is that this film does not even follow the basics set out in Brontë’s original. What was a gothic, dysfunctional tragedy is reduced to a strange, BDSM, sex-fuelled ‘love story’. Whilst reimagining, as we see in Zhao’s case, can support the original and lend validity to the production, this attempt by Fennell misses the mark completely. 

This is similarly reflected in the selection of the cast, with Fennell’s choice to cast Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, and  Zhao’s casting of Paul Mescal as Will. Although Mescal, as an Irish actor, does not fit into the identity of the English William, the range he presents as an actor and artist, allows him to transgress the constraints that might otherwise be present. The backlash against Elordi as a choice similarly arises from an incongruous actor/character dichotomy, one he cannot transcend. While I think his accent in the film is fine, he simply cannot be, or portray, Heathcliff. The identity of Heathcliff is paramount to the novel and, indeed, should have been to the film. Although Fennell argues this is merely how she chose to depict Heathcliff and that it does not go beyond that, her decision here reflects something intensely political and arguably reinforces white supremacy. Without his clearly defined non-white and class identity, Heathcliff’s revenge—and his entire character—is diminished to that of a broody man. In doing so, she establishes and further participates in a whitewashed media landscape. These claims have not been clearly articulated anywhere; rather, they are encoded in the marketing and branding of the film. 

Particularly telling was the choice to dress Margot Robbie in what has been dubbed  the “Elizabeth Taylor Necklace,” which in reality is an item of colonial looting, worn by a white woman without any acknowledgment of its historical importance. Instead, it is displayed as a symbol of love. Fennell notes the secondary owners but not the legacy of Nur Jahan and Jahangir, nor the British imperial conquest of India. It is through these choices that it is clearly visible that it was indeed Fennell’s ‘14 year old self’s’ perception of the classic, although with more arrogance, and less critical thinking than the average 14 year old. 

Indeed, whilst Fennell recognises that she cannot adapt the work, claiming “it’s not possible”, the result falls short of being a valuable commentary. There are moments when it is clear Fennell has utilised her stylistic maxims around costume and sex to mark an advent in commentary on class and identity. The attempt to engage critically with the original, however, omits many other key moments and characters, along with their characterisation. It cannot be classified as Wuthering Heights; perhaps if Fennell had produced this without the title or the references, it might have been a more valuable exercise in production and social commentary. This explicitly marks the issues in not appreciating the original or assigning value to its story. 

Comparing these two recent productions raises various questions about the value of producing something that is true to the original.