Lol. 😹

"Literary Hub » Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is a Deranged, Half-Assed Bodice-Ripper That Entirely Misses the Point'

https://lithub.com/emerald-fennells-wuthering-heights-is-a-deranged-half-assed-bodice-ripper-that-entirely-misses-the-point/

"By the time Catherine kicked her father’s corpse and ran out into the rain again (in the movie, you’re either bejeweled, bedrenched, or be-both) with Heathcliff in tow, I thought, If they don’t fuck now, I will demand a refund. I had to wait another beat before their lackluster Gothic coitus montage."

~ Emily Van Duyne

"As Cathy started dying in earnest, the gallon drum of club soda I had consumed over the course of two hours had filled my bladder to the point of agony ('our drinks are one size'). I panicked, not wanting to miss one minute of this spectacle, still clinging to the possibility that there would be some trace semblance of Emily Brontë in this Wuthering Heights, that we might meet the next generation of Earnshaws and Lintons. Once more, I needn’t have worried. Cathy bled out onto her Princess Peach sheets, Heathcliff wept over her corpse, and the credits rolled to another Charli XCX banger.

I left my husband to gather our things for dinner and scooted to the loo, where I was faced with a David Lynch-like scene far stranger than Fennell’s moors. A woman in one stall loudly begged a drunken stranger (who was dressed to the nines for her Valentine’s Day date) for toilet paper, her disembodied hand wiggling beneath the hanging door, as the drunken stranger opened a stall and rolled a giant pile of tee-pee around her diamond-studded hand, screeching 'CAN YOU SPARE A SQUARE, REMEMBER, CAN YOU SPARE A SQUARE' to me, the only other person in the room old enough to catch that Seinfeld reference. Two young women in Taylor Swift hoodies who had been in the theater with us were weeping over the ending, saying, Why? Why? What was the point? They weren’t talking to me, and god, I was glad, since I had no answer for them."

~ Emily Van Duyne