Briefly, my comments are directed to those who know the 1939 movie "Wuthering Heights", the novel "Wuthering Heights", and the work of Luis Bunuel. I love the novel. I love its intensity. I love its passion. I love its brutality. I love its carnal passion and its carnal brutality. Yet the 1939 Wylder version is practically sterile. Bunuel brings alive that passion and brutality. Frankly, Wylder's Wuthering Heights is embarrassed by Bunuel's when it comes to capturing the essentials of Bronte's novel. In my opinion, this fact is a reflection of the limitations put on 1930's Hollywood directors by studios looking to sell movies to a society that was unbending in its unwillingness to allow artists to truly stretch the art of film. Hollywood was slow to come around in expressing the same sexual and violent expressions that has always been present in literature from which it found its inspiration. As you might know, Bunuel has never let anything hold back his artistic expression. And in his version of Bronte's novel he takes full hold the emotion that Bronte intended us to feel.
Review of Wuthering Heights
