It is a mistake for film-makers to be in thrall to a novel, especially a classic such as Emily Brontë’s gothic melodrama, Wuthering Heights. They should treat it as a point of departure. In her mostly exhilarating third feature, co-writer-director Andrea Arnold does exactly this, ignoring the convention of casting a brooding swarthy posh bloke as Heathcliff and a demure English – or French, as in Juliette Binoche – rose as Cathy, going for non-professionals instead. Her film features a couple separated by race rather than social background. In a response to the so-called “classless society” purported by the last Government, this is an entirely relevant fault line.
Arnold’s film, adapted from a screenplay by Olivia Hetreed, begins with the young adult Heathcliff (James Howson) staring at some graffiti – names scratched on a wall – in Cathy’s old room and then slamming himself against them in a howl of despair. In a flashback, we see him as a young abandoned boy (Solomon Glave) marched through overgrown grass in the rain by his benefactor, Mr Earnshaw (Paul Hilton). Earnshaw takes him in and puts him to work. Heathcliff immediately forms a bond with young Cathy (Shannon Beer), although he earns abuse from skinhead Hindley (Lee Shaw), who inherits Earnshaw’s property after his death. After a long walk, Heathcliff and Cathy find themselves at the Linton estate. Heathcliff is scared away but
Cathy is invited in. Her relationship with the Lintons drives a wedge between her and Heathcliff that eventually has tragic consequences.
The emphasis on race rather than class gives the film a visceral immediacy, aided by the minimal dialogue – colloquially modern when spoken – and the micro-close ups on wildlife. Cathy and Heathcliff’s co-existence is as natural as the black and white on a lapwing’s feather; Arnold literally takes inspiration and justification from nature. Roughly half of the film is dominated by youngsters and features an outdoor birth sequence. Arnold’s conception of the Yorkshire Moors is as a landscape where nothing is hidden.
As compelling as the film is on a scene-by-scene basis, it does not add up to a coherent whole. The film feels like two tonally different stories – young, innocent love frustrated by circumstance and an empty revenge drama featuring adult Cathy (Kaya Scodelario) – pushed awkwardly together. Heathcliff is the principal viewpoint character and something of a contradiction – a victim of prejudice but also, as an adult returning from adventures abroad, a self-made man.
Yet as anti-climactic films go, this is terrifically impressive. It is exactly the sort of literary adaptation that should be shown to schoolchildren to make them re-think “classic” literature – and also illustrates the possibilities of cinema. The “15” certificate – given because of some the language – needs taking down a notch. I do believe it is time for the censors to rethink the classification system that under-estimates 14- year-olds.
The original sub-title of Woody Allen’s Annie Hall was “a nervous romance” – a description that could equally be applied to Romantics Anonymous, a slight but moderately entertaining French romantic comedy that is being released in conjunction with a series of chocolate tastings.
The French title, Les Emotifs Anonymes, refers to a support group attended by Angélique (Isabelle Carré), a former chocolate maker who suppresses her talent and emotional connections with, well, everyone. When we first see her, she is singing a song, “I Have Confidence in Me” as she walks down the street, which is intended to project the persona she aspires to rather than her own timidity. She accepts a job at a failing chocolate factory run by Jean-René (Benoît Poelvoorde), who has his own self-confidence issues; he hires Angélique simply so he does not have to make a decision about anyone else. His psychiatrist gives him a series of tasks, including taking a woman – in this case, Angélique – to dinner. He commits to this with deep, sweaty trepidation, responding to Angélique’s cue card questions by changing his shirt twice during the meal. Nevertheless, Angélique predictably influences the new line of chocolates. Then she and Jean-René attend a convention together. That’s a cue for more inarticulate fumbling.
Co-written and directed by Jean-Pierre Améris, Romantics Anonymous treads a fine line between charm and tedium. In romantic comedies such as this, you have to root for the couple and understand the obstacles placed in their way. However, this film doesn’t earn your submission. Améris presents impediment to romantic happiness as minor behavioural tics rather than deep psychological traumas that have to be confronted. In the rather weak and sudden ending, this compulsive behaviour is simply embraced: we shall not overcome, but so what?
The film is well-intentioned, but as with chocolate, there is only so much you can consume before you start gagging. By the end, I had reached my tipping point. I smiled, but never overcame the feeling of obvious manipulation, or, for that matter, the bitterness of the 100 per cent cocoa tasted before the screening.
