Wuthering Heights Directed by Andrea Ar nold Starring Solomon Glave, S h a n n o n B e e r, K a y a S c o d e l a r i o Released November 11
ish Tank director Andrea Arnold isn’t the most obvious choice for a new adaptation of Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë’s rousingly romantic nineteenth-century novel. But by breaking away from the sterilised likes of Laurence Olivier’s 1939 rendition, Arnold returns Heights to its grubby, twisted roots. Confidently making Brontë’s story her own, Arnold’s film is at once a modernisation (her characters hurl F-bombs and C-grenades that would have made the author herself blush), a respectful adaptation and a gutsy re-imagining. If Brontë evoked the barren Yorkshire moors as a representation of central character Heathcliff’s innately wild nature, Arnold takes the metaphor one step further by casting the traditionally white role anew. Here, Heathcliff (Solomon Glave) is a young black boy who’s dragged in from the moors (“It was the Christian thing to do”) and befriends twin spirit Catherine
Romantics Anonymous Directed Starring Isabelle Released
by Jean-Pier re Amér is Benoît Poelvoorde, Car ré, Lorella Cravotta December 2
080 T h e A n o t h e r E a r t h I s s u e
(Shannon Beer). But with Catherine’s brother Hindley (Lee Shaw) crippled by jealous rage, Heathcliff’s in for a tough time. Music-less and virtually dialogue-free, Arnold’s film relies on helter-skelter images and meaningful glances for its impetus. Filmed in a loose, handicam fashion, Heights is best in its superior first half when it unites the coarse beauty of the Yorkshire moors with an impressive cast of young first-timers, all of whom deliver raw, unsentimental turns that pulsate with feeling. Despite her exceptional players, there’s no question who Arnold thinks the real star is. The director is in love with her turbulent Yorkshire landscapes and embraces the elements almost to a fault. While the rain-lashed imagery kindles a fittingly feral mood, her repetitive use of certain images derails any sense of pace. At times, Heights nearly resembles a David Attenborough documentary.
ean-Pierre Améris’ slight, confectionary comedy may take after François Ozon’s Potiche in both style and tone, but its saccharine flavour won’t excite everyone’s tastebuds. Chocolate-factory owner Jean-René’s (Benoît Poelvoorde) business and reputation are melting faster than fudgesicles in a furnace. The problem is that his devoted team of chocolatiers simply isn’t up to scratch. But he’s about to be thrown a lifeline in the beguiling form of Angélique (Isabelle Carré). Despite being a natural cocoa whiz, Angélique comes forward as a sales rep with bright ideas for whisking some oomph back into Jean-René’s floundering venture. Which she does, without much fuss, after convincing her boss to fast-track a new signature choc into production. Secretly, Jean-René is seeking a life partner, but he’s too awkward to make a move and Angélique is too shy to signal her reciprocal affection. As Améris hones the will-they-won’t-they sideplot, Romantics Anonymous takes a bland turn. For a director known for delivering hyper-emotional drama, it’s surprising that he gives Carré and Poelvoorde so little to work
Something to be respected more than enjoyed, Heights is too long by a good 30 minutes (its second half struggles to hit Brontë’s emotional beats) and would have packed more punch with a little careful pruning. Josh Winning
Anticipation.
Andrea Arnold skips from kitchen-sink drama t o p e r i o d t r a g e d y. I n t r i g u i n g .
Enjoyment.
Passionate and f a i t h f u l , A r n o l d ’s f i l m i s striking but staggers toward a lethargic climax.
In Retrospect. A g u t s y i f not entirely successful i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f B r o n t ë ’s t o m e .
with. Thankfully, his lead pair save Ameris’ blushes, fleshing out their cagey duet with a tender chemistry. Still, there’s about as much depth here as a box of Milk Tray, and without the stylistic assurance of an Amélie or Ozon’s aforementioned delight, it simply doesn’t have enough going for it to make you want to go back for more. Romantics Anonymous does exactly what it says on its ribbon-bound tin and, at a trim 80 minutes, it’s as short and sweet a slice of Gallic romance as you could hope to come across. Adam Woodward
Anticipation. Life is sweet.
Enjoyment.
A sugar-coated change of tack from an u n d e r r a t e d f i l m m a k e r . Wo n ’ t w i n Améris many new fans, though.
In Retrospect. T h o s e w h o like their French cinema sans schmaltz will have to look elsewhere.