Yet another remake of the romantic classic Wuthering Heights. It's a book I've read several times, and each time it's a rich tapestry of mood, nuance, thwarted emotions, sexual tension and passionate unrequited love.
Now we have Margo Robbie who looks like a blonde hausfrau rather than the wild dark slip of a girl that was Cathy, (and at 35 she's too old looking IMO) a soundtrack from Hell and a Fifty Shades of Shagfest. I mean, this shouldn't be allowed. Half the magic of the original was the passion between Healthcliff and Cathy, the doomed love affair that never really was. I don't want to see Heathcliff's thrutching buttocks or Cathy's tits. I want my own imagination to run barefoot through the whole movie.
That bouquet looks like one of those cheap Temu nappy things you buy shaped as flowers.
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Your name is being called by sacred things that are not addressed nor listened to. Sometimes they blow trumpets
