The Saltburn director's take on Wuthering Heights is a feverish fan-fiction of Emily Brontë's masterpiece, and Fennell's best film to date. Eschewing the novel's wrap-around narrative structure, it begins with the meeting of young Cathy and Healthcliffe- she the only daughter of Mr Earnshaw (Martin Clunes), he the abandoned boy Earnshaw drunkenly brings home to the crumbling Wuthering Heights estate. Raised as pseudo-siblings in this isolated, violent home the two form a deep bond, one that as adults forces Cathy (Margot Robbie) and Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) to confront the realities of their class difference in the face of their terrible and overpowering desire to possess one another.

A sumptuous reading between the lines of Brontë's complex work about generational trauma, this Wuthering Heights makes the text's implicit themes explicit, keeping the tortured power-play between characters and upping the eroticism to a degree that would be problematic watching in English class. Fennell has always had a taste for the extreme, and in this baroque amalgamation of Gothic literature she finally has a structure to hang her borderline-psychedelic visuals on: walls made of flesh, shiny blood-red rooms and tiny dollhouse-like manors pummelled by endless storms on the wild and windy moors. Robbie and Elordi throw themselves into it with gusto, supported by a rock solid Hong Chau and a scene-stealing turn by Alison Oliver.