I read the Bronte novel when I was much younger, aware of how much of an impact it had on the history of fiction and what a gothic romantic classic it was.

I don't remember much about the actual plot (apart from a vague sense that Heathcliff and Cathy seemed to constantly hate each other) so I don't know how much the script by writer/director Emerald Fennell adheres to it, but like almost every enduring story from the history in our culture, from Batman to Pride and Prejudice, generations of writers and directors have (and will continue to) take what stands out to them personally and reinterpret the mythology or text to suit it.

I've already seen a social media rant/article about how this is not Wuthering Heights, but the irate poster has missed the point. Just like whatever theme or character arc leapt out at you and made it what it is, this is what leapt out to Fennell. In fact, she's said as much in the media, talking about how the film reflects her emotional reaction to the book after reading it in her teens, not the literal plot.

A drunkard landowner, Earnshaw (Martin Clunes), whose personality careens between cruel taskmaster and doting father to both his daughter Cathy (Charlotte Mellington) and his staff, including her lady in waiting Nelly (Hong Chau), takes a ruffian boy (Owen Cooper) off the street and into their home, the forbidding estate of the title on the windswept plains of the English moors.

The household accepts the boy, putting him to work and raising him, calling him Heathcliff. He quickly becomes a member of the family, but is closest to his erstwhile sister Cathy, commiserating together when her father shows his worst side and indulging her fantasies of the life of riches and splendour she intends to lead.

Years later, grown into the forms of Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, Cathy is still a flighty dreamer, entranced at the wealthy new occupants who've moved into the palatial estate down in the valley but crestfallen the Lord hasn't yet invited her to tea and fallen in love with her obvious charms.

Heathcliff is still hewn from the land, all hair, gruff manner and sinewy body built for outdoor work, bemused by Cathy's zest for life. Despite their differing circumstances, they can't escape their desire for each other, and even in the conservative confines of 18th century English manners and a complete lack of education about anything sexual, nature wants to take it course.

It does so in two scenes of awakening for Cathy – one when she steals into the barn loft where Heathcliff sleeps to see him and instead sees two of the household staff making love below her through a crack in the floorboards, and another when she leans back against a rock out in the countryside, masturbating in excited confusion before realising she's about to be discovered (by Heathcliff, who's been watching her).

But like all classic English love stories of the time (everything from Austen and the Brontes to Downton Abbey and Bridgerton), it's all about class. Cathy knows if she gives in to her love for Heathcliff they'll live a life of poor slovenly serfdom, certainly not the future she imagined for herself.

Instead, she ingratiates herself into the life of the Lintons, the new family in the valley, where the textile magnate Edgar (Shazad Latif) indeed falls in love with Cathy, marries her and whisks her into the life of plenty she always dreamed about, particularly as her father's drinking and gambling has seen Wuthering Heights fall into squalor and disrepair.

Worse still, Cathy confides her romantic conundrum to Nelly, a conversation Heathcliff overhears, and he leaves, seemingly forever, taking her heart with him and damning her to a life of ease but devoid of passion.

Years later, when Cathy is pregnant with Edgar's child but sleepwalking through her life and with his gormless younger sister Isabella (Alison Oliver) still delighted at having a playmate, Heathcliff returns – now refined and wealthy but still darkly brooding, Edgar inviting him into their house with no idea who he really is or what Cathy feels for him.

As a form of romantic punishment, Heathcliff seduces and marries Isabella, which sends Cathy into the deep funk he hopes it will. She miscarries and takes to bed, everyone sure she's just being self indulgent but with no real idea how sick she is, a mistake that will lead to tragedy.

I'm not sure Fennell was interested in themes as much as just bringing the story to life with a Grand Guignol brush, but there's something in the opening scene of the town hanging about corruption, sex, filth and the body and how they intersect (especially considering where Cathy ends up).

I think she just wanted to express her love of one of the world's most famous tragic romance stories, a tale of star cross'd lovers and tragic circumstances and timing cut from the same cloth as Romeo and Juliet – I wouldn't be surprised if that was Emily Bronte's inspiration as well.

What's most gratifying about it however is seeing another female director given a much broader canvas (read; a higher budget) and really filling the screen with it. Much like Greta Gerwig did with Little Women – which led directly to Barbie – it's nice to see Fennell has a talent for wrangling the filmmaking crafts that really cost money and aren't about simply pointing a camera at a romantic entanglement.

From the costuming that effectively portrays the styles of the day but where nobody but the very rich have access to the standards and tools of hygiene we do nowadays to the atmospheric effects and VFX of the forbidding landscapes, the visuals are thematic to the story and are often beautifully composed and rendered. Fennell has become a blockbuster director (not just from the stellar box office), and deservedly so.

Robbie is once again effortlessly talented, but I still can't really figure out the current love affair Hollywood's having with Elordi. He seemed to be formed with the express purpose of playing Heathcliff (chiselled, dark, tall, stoic etc), but can he do more than scowl and smirk?