‘Dead Man’s Wire’ Does ’70s Era Filmmaking Proud

Gus Van Sant’s “Dead Man’s Wire” is the true story of the “Indianapolis Hostage Crisis” that occurred in February of 1977.

Bill Skarsgård stars as Tony Kiritsis, the Indianapolis citizen who entered his bank one morning, placed a shotgun to the back of loan officer Richard O. Hall’s head and took him hostage.

A chilling detail is that Kiritsis had a wire wrapped around Hall’s neck that was attached to the trigger of his shotgun, a “dead man’s wire” to ensure that Kiritsis could pull the trigger anytime he wanted. Kiritsis exited the bank with Hall on foot, established a back-and-forth with authorities and managed to reach out to the one person he considered an ally.

That’s local DJ (Coleman Domingo) who Kiritsis had never met before.

As in “IT” (as well as the recent triumph of the HBO series “IT: Welcome to Derry”) and “Nosferatu” (2024), only his eyes give Skarsgård away and the only actor with a scarier gaze than him is Michael Shannon. This is unlike anything we’ve seen Skarsgård play before; the actor manages the impossible, as he makes Kiritsis manic, uncomfortable and, against all odds, sympathetic.

Playing Kiritsis’s hostage, Dacres Montgomery has a tough role and plays it well. Al Pacino pops up in a key supporting role, a nice nod to his starring in “Dog Day Afternoon” 50 years ago. Pacino only has three scenes, but they’re juicy and he makes an interesting vocal choice for his role.

Skarsgård dominates but Domingo, playing the DJ who Kiritsis bizarrely felt connected to, is a pro scene stealer.

While Pacino and John Cazale’s characters in “Dog Day Afternoon” were easier to root for, especially as their scenario grew more dire and out of hand, Kiritsis, as depicted here, is the kind of anti-authority oddball who you can’t help but sort-of admire, because his plan took guts to carry out.

It’s interesting to see how movies from the 1970s went from being a cluster of standout examples of cinema to an actual genre itself, as we now have ’70s-set stories being portrayed in a manner that aims to mimic the look and feel, not just of the era but of the cinema of the period.

David Fincher’s “Zodiac” (2007) remains the best of the lot, but I enjoyed this one, too.

The editing suggests the looseness of a 1970s-era film. In some scenes, still photos are interspersed with the action. A detail I can’t help but be nitpicky about: a photo shopped picture prop of Pacino’s character doesn’t convince.

Otherwise, Van Sant does an excellent job at recreating the stakes and feel of this awful incident and injects it with his wit and visual playfulness where appropriate.

“Dead Man’s Wire” is gripping and funny. While the milieu and subject matter are familiar, as nothing here matches or tops Sidney Lumet’s “Dog Day Afternoon” (1975), but at least Van Sant doesn’t play it safe. Van Sant is aiming for the rising tension and extreme mania of Lumet’s film and manages to keep things entertaining, even as we’ve seen this type of story before.

The conclusion is extremely satisfying, especially if you don’t know this real ending. Van Sant has always excelled at making films about outsiders who infiltrate the system – his “Drugstore Cowboy” (1989) and “Good Will Hunting” (1997) come to mind.

Or, his characters remain on the outskirts as rebels with a cause, such as “My Own Private Idaho” (1991), “Gerry” (2003), “To Die For” (1995) and “Milk” (2008), his best films.

Kiritsis may be unhinged and possibly crazy, but the way Skarsgård plays him suggests a bruised ego pushing against utter bureaucratic favortism.

I’m not saying I sympathize with Kiritsis and neither does the film, but Van Sant captures how feeling sorry for himself was all the push Kiritsis needed to disrupt an entire city. “Dead Man’s Wire” won’t turn Kiritsis into a folk hero any more than the media did in 1977, but it captures what it was like to be in the presence of someone so driven and dangerous.

Three Stars (out of four)

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Hollywood’s It Actor Knows ‘How to Make a Killing’

John Patton Ford’s “How to Make a Killing” begins as many crime comedies do, with an inmate awaiting execution and a witness arriving as an audience surrogate.

That lets us hear how this scoundrel confesses behind bars as to how he got to this unfortunate place.

Here, the prisoner is Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell), who is apparently incarcerated for murder. The feature-length flashback that follows shows us how Becket’s journey to oblivion couldn’t have been predicted.

To avoid spoiling anything specific, Becket immerses himself in his family history, as he is entitled to an enormous inheritance from the patriarch of the Redfellow family (Ed Harris). At first, Becket is simply trying to get to know his extended family members, who are all insanely wealthy, colorful and, on some level, rotten to the core.

The further he goes in engaging himself with the wealthy is when he decides to stop being an observer and take matters into his own hands.

Powell, whose prior film was Edgar Wright’s unloved remake of “The Running Man” (2025), is back in a darkly comic vehicle not unlike his 2023 triumph, Richard Linklater’s “Hit Man.” He also played a kind of con artist in that Netflix romp.

While Powell is not in danger of being typecast, it’s fitting that he’s so good here. Becket Redfellow is exactly the kind of juicy role that fits him, with verbal and character dynamics that suit his strengths. Ford’s witty screenplay would be impossible for any great actor to turn down, as the ensemble indicates.

The problem with “How to Make a Killing” is ultimately that it hasn’t been directed with the kind of showmanship it deserves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ford, whose prior work was as writer/director of the Aubrey Plaza vehicle, “Emily the Criminal” (2022), is a stronger writer than filmmaker. Some early moments have a roving camera and clever edits. The film could have used so much more of that, as the screenplay crackles, but the filmmaking is functional, and the look overall is bland.

I’m not saying this needed to be as wild as a Coen Brothers thriller to succeed, but the wild twists in the story go a long way to making this crackle more than it should.

“How to Make a Killing” is ultimately a movie of moments. Margaret Qualley’s key supporting character is more of an extended plot device than someone the narrative needed (the more I think about it, the less I believe her presence in the story and how it connects with Becket’s journey).

On the other hand, Topher Grace has a killer, single-scene cameo appearance. Zach Woods is hilarious as just one of Becket’s spoiled, empty-headed relatives, Jessica Henwick is excellent as the only kind figure in Becket’s life and Bill Camp is terrific as a Redfellow who becomes Becket’s mentor.

As expected, Harris is sensational. He’s a big reason why the third act is such a crowd-pleaser.

I liked “How to Make a Killing” a lot, laughed often and was taken aback by the growing complications of the finale. Even the ending, which doesn’t go where you think it would, is satisfying and just right.

I wish Ford had given this the kind of filmmaking finesse that made Danny DeVito’s “The War of the Roses” (1989) such a great dark comedy (in fact, one of the best). Still, as another ideal vehicle for Powell and a welcome sleeper in a season that typically doesn’t provide audiences with a real gem, it’s worth seeking out.

Three Stars (out of four)

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Why ‘Midwinter Break’ Is Unlike Most Faith-Based Films

Lesley Manville and Ciarán Hinds are so convincing as a married couple in “Midwinter Break” that you’ll swear they left the set each day holding hands.

The late-middle-aged couple in the story isn’t as cozy as we initially think. Director Polly Findlay’s film is a gentle look at a decades-old marriage in crisis, and the reasons why are both subtle and deeply ingrained.

The film demands patience, but the joy of watching two stellar performers give their all is more than enough of a reward. 

Stella and Gerry (Manville, Hinds) look like a perfectly contented couple plotting a trip to Amsterdam. They function like a well-oiled machine, aware of each other’s minor faults and foibles, but understanding it’s part of their imperfect love story.

Awww.

The trip starts well, but a trauma from Stella’s past resurfaces. No details here, but the event is tied to a spiritual promise that went unfulfilled all these years later. The trip, which started with such promise, pushes the couple to the breaking point.

Findlay spoon feeds us flashbacks to that earlier event in Stella’s life. What seems like Character Foundation 101 proves far more consequential, even life changing. That incident looms larger as the story progresses, shading Stella’s decisions and the chasm between the two.

It isn’t the only surprise in store for us. Gerry has his own baggage he lugs around the streets of Amsterdam, one camouflaged by his gregarious spirit.

Can this marriage be saved? Should it?

No one would dub “Midwinter Break” a faith-based film, at least at first blush. Religion still plays a powerful role in the story, peeking out in ways that many can understand. It could save this older couple or convince them they’re better off seeking someone new.

The screenplay treats faith with respect and reverence, adding to a sense of urgency to a story that takes all the time necessary to draw out the conflict.

That’s a kind way of saying “Midwinter Break” will test modern audiences. The revelations come at us slowly, allowing the stars to dig into their roles and the marriage in question.

Subtle. Gentle. And, ultimately, engaging.

None of this works unless the stars capture marriage in all its unflattering shades. What these screen veterans do is allow us to buy into their connection. Sure, it lacks the passion of youth, but not the endurance of time, which can be far more expressive.

Some scenes, which seem unnecessary at first blush, take on a larger meaning in the third act. Your patience will be rewarded, and heartstrings will be tugged in unexpected ways.

The cinematography is never flashy, but it’s lush enough to convey both the Amsterdam scenery and the beauty of everyday life. This love story is complicated, layered, and longtime couples will see those minor tells and bond with the material.

It’s unavoidable.

Others will relish the poignancy of marriage and the joy of watching two stars performing at the peak of their powers.

HiT or Miss: “Midwinter Break” is quiet and pensive, a marital X-ray with a powerful dose of faith.

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‘I Can Only Imagine 2’ Debunks Our Worst Expectations

Some films may be hits, but the very notion of a sequel seems bizarre, or even desperate.

At first blush, another “I Can Only Imagine” film fits in that category. The 2018 drama made serious cash for Lionsgate, but the tale of a son coming to grips with his difficult childhood and the dawn of his music career seemed like the ultimate one-and-done story.

Not so fast.

“I Can Only Imagine 2” expands on Bart Millard’s story, digging deeper into that father-son dynamic to include his troubled teen. Plus, a key musician in MercyMe’s orbit brings something fresh and haunting to a franchise that we didn’t know we needed.

Looks, as always, can deceive.

Bart (John Michael Finley) appears to have it all as the sequel opens. Music career? Check? Lovely, loyal wife (Sophie Skelton)? You betcha? Adorable kids? Yeah … hey, where’s the dramatic tension?

Try a musical dry spell, a shrinking fan base and a blockbuster single (the film’s title) that’s gathering dust. Plus, Bart’s teen son Sam (Sammy Dell) comes down with a chronic illness that upends everything the family has established.

And there’s more heartache on the horizon. It takes a while for the latter to bubble up, and at times we wonder if there’s enough conflict to sustain a sequel.

Directors Andrew Erwin and Brent McCorkle once again prove modestly budgeted faith-based stories can look world class and deliver acting that matters. Finley didn’t break out as a film star following the first “Imagine,” but once again, he’s relatable and dutifully tortured.

Country star Trace Adkins lends his grumbly baritone as the band’s no-nonsense manager. And young Dell is surprisingly effective, not just as a wannabe musician but a teen torn between adolescent angst and a fractured love of family.

Some faith-based story tics may make some groan – one bucket-list item is mentioned early in the film and comes to pass later, for example. And watching Bart stare at a mostly blank notepad while trying to come up with another hit song is equally bland.

Still, the insider’s glimpse of life on the road is intriguing and the addition of a key character sells the sequel, full stop.

That’s Milo Ventimiglia as Tim Timmons, another key part of the MercyMe saga. He plays the band’s opening act, a quirky soul who makes Bart’s life more complicated. Tim is the very opposite of a pop star, and Ventimiglia plays him like an eccentric you might keep at a distance.

Sure, he means well, but …

It’s either a defensive mechanism or a sign that not all musicians are ripped from Central Casting. Either way, the actor’s performance is both peculiar and vital to disproving a cynical theory behind the film’s existence.

One downside?

The sequel feels like it has two focal points, given Ventimiglia’s dominating turn. It’s easy to see the sequel transformed into a limited series, where that kind of imbalance would be easier to digest.

Fathers will especially connect with the themes in play, and the brief return of Dennis Quaid as Bart’s supremely flawed father pays off handsomely.

Redemption. A concert sequence at Colorado’s famed Red Rocks Amphitheatre. And a real-life story that continues to inspire.

Yeah, we’re on board with a second helping of “Imagine.”

HiT or Miss: “I Can Only Imagine 2” shakes free from most sequel skepticism by digging deeper into key father-son dynamics.

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How ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’s’ Special Edition Changed Hollywood

Steven Spielberg’s “Close Encounters of the Third Kind: The Special Edition” (1980) marked the first time a “special edition” was touted as such and released in theaters after the initial theatrical cut was a massive hit three years prior.

Spielberg’s return engagement of his late 1977 blockbuster was not only a financial success but put into place the notion that cinematic art, mainstream or otherwise, could be adjusted by the original artist, then presented as a new work to experience.

How’s the film itself? Still wonderful, whether you like what Roy Neary sees when he enters the Mother ship, but more on that later.

The film opens with a series of scenes in which the impossible is occurring all over the world. We witness the bizarre discovery of long-missing aircraft materialize in the desert, a massive power outage occurring in suburbia and (my favorite) a stern air traffic controller listening to a pilot who sees something amazing but refuses to report a UFO sighting.

We then meet Neary, a boyish father (Richard Dreyfuss, whose sideburns are the most dated thing in the movie), his uptight wife Ronnie (Teri Garr) and Jillian, a single mother (Melinda Dillon – yes, the mother from “A Christmas Story”) raising little Barry (3-year-old wonder Cary Guffey), who undergoes a deeply personal journey of discovery.

When Roy and Jillian can’t get a certain shape out of their minds, they alienate (pun intended) everyone around them by trying to figure out what it all means.

Dreyfuss is terrific at conveying the unstoppable need to know all, but he allows us to see the pain and humiliation his madness is costing his family. Garr is relatable and smart in what could have been a thankless role. Dillon is wonderful and earthy, as is Bob Balaban and legendary director Francois Truffaut in key turns.

When Spielberg’s “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” his fourth film and first after “Jaws” (1975), opened in the fall of 1977, many wondered how it would compare with “Star Wars.” George Lucas’ first groundbreaking, pop-culture shaping and box office conquering mega-hit had overshadowed most other films released that year.

Could Spielberg, whose giant killer shark movie was now the former biggest hit of all time, top The Force? Is Spielberg’s UFO epic better than “Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope”?

Let me go on record: You bet your pile of mashed potatoes it is!

STEVEN SPIELBERG is asked a great question on Inside The Actors Studio about Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, which blows his mind.pic.twitter.com/XVTHIUmzAZ

— All The Right Movies (@ATRightMovies) February 6, 2026

A consistent quality in Spielberg’s work is his gift for directing children. Note the famous dinner scene, in which an iconic pile of mashed potatoes triggers Roy’s obsession; although Dreyfuss is the focus of the scene, watch Shawn Bishop, the young actor playing his son, who is sitting next to Dreyfuss, matching him beat for beat.

As Neary’s oldest, Bishop is visibly crying and conveying the horror of watching his dad lose his mind.

A few scenes later, when Roy is tearing up his neighborhood, keep your eyes on Justin Dreyfuss (no relation), playing Toby, the youngest Neary boy: as Roy stalks around, trashing his front lawn, Toby follows him, helping him like a dutiful, confused little boy.

It’s an honest, perfect touch that Spielberg doesn’t underline. This is why his movie is still a masterpiece 40 years later: the human story is so real and authentic; it makes the sharp turns into science fiction seem plausible.

A standout aspect of Spielberg’s film is the hope and wonder it evokes. Not only is mankind’s crucial, first close encounter a good one overall but, with a youthful, infectious optimism, the film tells us to Watch the Skies. Not as a warning of those acid-blooded Xenomorphs from “Alien” (1979), nor the squid/crab thingies from “Independence Day”(1996), nor the dreadlocked, purring “Predator” (1987).

Spielberg is telling us to step outside our homes, walk onto the front lawn and gaze at the astonishing view above.

If you’ve never seen this movie, all I can say is to see it on the big screen and savor the experience. Let John Williams’ rich score wash over you, allow your jaw to gape at the still-incredible special effects and savor the witty dialogue, thoughtful questions on whether we’re alone in the universe and the moments of humor that frequently spring up.

When it was released in 1980, three years after the original version had circulated in theaters, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind- The Special Edition” grossed an astonishing $28 million. That’s a lot for some deleted scenes, added spectacle and the chance for the audience to see “inside.”

No prior re-release had ever been so highly touted as a “new” take on a previously existing film. Previous re-releases had not been hyped as a “special edition,” been quite so successful or noted in the marketing with the post-release changes, except for maybe the R-rated “Excalibur” (1981) and “Saturday Night Fever” (1977), both being re-released in recut PG editions early into their initial runs.

The growing videocassette market of the late 20th century, newly established pay cable networks and DVD extras would further introduce home viewing of new versions of films (which ranged from drastic alterations or simply new content added to prior existing versions). However, in theaters, the 1980 edition of Spielberg’s film was merely the beginning of the trend.

The highly touted, massively successful “Star Wars: Special Edition” in 1997 (with its pixelated additions and controversial Jabba the Hut sequence) was followed by each of the original trilogy returning to theaters with varying “upgrades”, leading decades later to the similar rollout (but without extensive alterations) to the 1999-2005 prequel trilogy.

Another highly debated and controversial “new edition” was Spielberg’s own “E.T. The Extra Terrestrial” (1982), with its added CGI and deleted bits that don’t actually enrich an already perfect work.

Other noteworthy theatrical special edition releases include “Apocalypse Now Redux” (2003), “Alien: The Director’s Cut” (2003), “Donnie Darko: The Director’s Cut” (2005), and “The Lord of the Rings” extended cuts.
George Lucas also revised his earlier breakthrough with “THX 1138: The Director’s Cut” (2012).

There have also been improved, lengthened or shortened versions released of Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Cotton Club” (1984), Michael Cimino’s “Heaven’s Gate” (1981) and Bob Guccione’s notorious and strangely durable “Caligula” (1980).

In limited release and/or film festival circuits, the director’s cuts of “Blade Runner” (1981), “Nightbreed” (1990), and “Brazil” (1985) found appreciative audiences. So did the extended cuts of “The Abyss” (1989), “Kingdom of Heaven” (2005), “Aliens” (1986), “Rocky IV” (1985), “The Counselor” (2013) and, arguably the most noted altered version in recent pop culture history, “Zack Snyder’s Justice League” (2017).

There were also the home releases of “Clue: The Movie” (1985), which allowed viewers to watch all three endings filmed in one sitting (unlike the theatrical release, with random theaters getting different versions) and “Little Shop of Horrors” (1986), with it famously downbeat and spectacular ending, cut for the theatrical release, then belatedly reinstated for digital release and solidifying its cult canon status.

Peter Bogdanovich’s “Mask” (1985) was released on DVD with different music than the theatrical release (out went Joe Cocker, back in were Bruce Springsteen tunes, as Bogdanovich originally intended).

As with all of these examples, it is just as easy to find longtime fans who declare only the original to be the preferred version as it is to find a vocal critic who states the new version is the best and definitive one.
Is a film truly ever finished?

That’s highly debatable, particularly if you ask the director.

I’ve always liked the tacked-on moments in the Special Edition of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” as this was the first version of the film I ever saw. It’s weird for me to see a version of the film that doesn’t follow Roy Neary into the spaceship. Yet, I must report that Mr. Spielberg himself admitted publicly that he regretted the inclusion and that most of the later editions of the film don’t have the Special Edition footage.

As with all of these Special Editions and the Original Theatrical Cut they sprung from, the debate will always continue over which experience is the preferred one, particuyalry for the first timers.

Two things always spring to mind when I think of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” which is a personal favorite (in either form) that was released the year I was born: The comic book adaptation was first I ever purchased and, while skinny, it was as wide as a coffee table. I carried it everywhere like a teddy bear.

Also, there’s the scene where Jillian runs onto her lawn, watching the light in the clouds fade away as a UFO steals her child. She lets out a horrible cry of “Baaaarrry!”

That scarred me for life.

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Consider ‘Elizabethtown’ as a Valentine’s Day Treat

Cameron Crowe’s “Elizabethtown” (2005) is about an idealistic young man dealing with a catastrophic business failure, a lavish bomb that hurts his credibility and standing amongst his peers.

In the movie, Orlando Bloom plays the character in question, the creator of a much hyped and poorly-received shoe that results in a nearly $1 billion loss.

In real life, a dissimilar but still ironic loss faced Crowe, whose film broke a box office, audience and film critics winning streak.

While “Elizabethtown” was said to have been shortened and re-cut after a famously disastrous premiere at the Toronto Film Festival, it was met with scorn by film journalists and a mostly dismissive response from audiences.

I suspect some of the negative reaction came from movie buffs who were still angry over Crowe’s off-putting but bold, occasionally brilliant “Vanilla Sky” (2001) becoming a sizable hit. Or, audiences simply were tired of the cheery, celebratory nature of Crowe’s films, one of which famously made “Show Me the Money!” the ubiquitous catch phrase of the late 20th century.

Decades removed from its release and being branded a flop, “Elizabethtown” deserves another look. In fact, for those scrambling to find a fresh idea for a Valentine’s Day date movie, here’s a romantic fantasy that celebrates life’s possibilities and the process of recouping after a failure.

Bloom’s Drew Baylor is introduced on his last day of work, meeting with his boss (a hilariously droll Alec Baldwin) informing him of the epic size of the company’s financial loss. The bad news continues, as Drew heads off to Kentucky upon learning his father passed away.

On the red eye flight to Louisville (which the film helpfully informs us is pronounced “lull-ville”), Drew meets Claire, played by Kirsten Dunst. Claire is chipper, to say the least, a refreshingly optimistic, upbeat presence whom Drew is initially put off by.

To the credit of the movie and Dunst’s enchanting performance, we’re also unsure of Claire at first. The character and Dunst’s take on her is both perfectly charming and a bit too much. It takes Drew, as well as the audience, some time to see just how much they need one another, as their courtship proceeds in ways that are quirky but not inevitable.

Crowe’s film is overwritten and persistently cute but still hearty, funny and really wonderful. The central love story clicks. So do tasty narrative side notes portraying “Chuck and Cindy: The Wedding” and a VHS tape with the power of taming the unruliest of children.

There’s also a sequence, half-told through montage, where we see what a great, long-into-the-night phone call between two people falling in love looks like. Anyone who has experienced the pleasure of being on one end of such a call (like I have) will connect to the emotions Crowe is going for in this wonderful set piece.

The screenplay and dialogue seem cobbled together from little ideas, memorable choices of words and individuals of great character Crowe must have encountered over the years. Some of the time, you can hear Crowe trying too hard but, in many instances, there is a true beauty in the dialogue.

It might sound like I’m letting this critically savaged film entirely off the hook, but I’m not. There is a late-in-the-movie set piece involving the funeral of Drew’s father. It features Susan Sarandon as Drew’s mother; her character and scenes should and could have been cut out of the movie.

I love Sarandon but her big scene, in which her eulogy for her late husband becomes performance art, a stand-up routine and a tap dance, is a disaster. The slapstick that caps this sequence is another poor choice.

The next time I watch this, I’m going to skip from Drew and Claire’s encounter in front of the hotel, past the funeral, and right into the climactic road trip.

About this road trip: it is wildly improbable and, if you think about how fast Claire puts it together for Drew, totally unbelievable. Still, everything in this movie is romanticized and larger than life. To put it in musical terms, “Elizabethtown” is more a glorious rock ballad from Lynyrd Skynyrd than a down-to-the-dirt Tom Waits tune.

I went with it and found it moving all the same.

“Elizabethtown” isn’t Crowe’s masterpiece, but he clearly wanted it to be. Bloom isn’t right for the role of Drew, a part Crowe had difficulty casting. He should have re-teamed with Tom Cruise a third time, since the role was so obviously written for him.

Still, Bloom doesn’t embarrass himself and he and Dunst reveal the inner life beneath the exteriors of their pleasant but guarded characters.

Crowe, like Drew, rebounded from this unsuccessful undertaking. As in “Jerry Maguire” (1996), still his best movie, Crowe loves his characters, which is a terrific quality in a screenwriter. Even more so than “Almost Famous” (2000), this is Crowe’s unabashed ode to love, music and the heartland, making for a truly American film.

For the true romantic and any lover of great American pop tunes, here’s a potent cinematic mix tape.

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This ‘Wuthering Heights’ Will Drive Purists Mad

Did anyone expect Emerald Fennell to deliver a note-for-note version of Emily Brontë’s “Wuthering Heights?”

Fennell’s short resume features salacious takes on MeToo (“Promising Young Woman”) and high society (“Saltburn”). It was inevitable she’d “re-imagine” the literary classic for all its worth.

That means Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” isn’t for purists. Instead, it’s a beguiling peek at a passion that cannot be extinguished and the lives disrupted along the way.

Oh, and it’s a pretty steamy affair from a Hollywood uneasy with the raw sensuality seen back in the late ’80s/early ’90s.

You’ve been warned.

The story opens with a young Catherine Earnshaw (Charlotte Mellington) getting to know her family’s suddenly adopted son Heathcliff (Owen Cooper, “Adolescence”). Papa Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) may be a wobbly drunk, but he opens up his home to the lad.

That’s where his kindness starts and ends. Mr. Earnshaw treats the lad poorly, but this allows the unexpected siblings to spend time together.

Catherine and Heathcliff bond in ways beyond what you’d see in a three-camera family sitcom. And, by the time the adult Catherine is played by Margot Robbie, it’s clear that her character has complicated feelings for Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi).

Those smoky looks speak volumes. Scream, to be more accurate.

Fate and a class chasm stand in their way. A misunderstanding convinces Heathcliff to flee Wuthering Heights, the Earnshaws’ once regal home now falling into disrepair.

Meanwhile, Catherine accepts a marriage proposal from a bland but benevolent suitor (Shazad Latif), but it’s only a matter of time before Heathcliff returns.

And how.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Fennell’s sense of production design remains extravagant, and even the quietest scenes hum with visual splendor. The costumes! The lavish lifestyles! The camera-friendly leads who have chemistry to spare!

The latter makes “Wuthering Heights” a must-see for old-school romantics.

Robbie and Elordi bring heat to a story that trades nuance for animal magnetism. Fennell’s screenplay doesn’t hold back on withering character flaws, either.

Catherine appears kind and giving, but it doesn’t take much for her to bare her teeth. That’s particularly true given the passive aggressive moves by her family’s housekeeper, Nelly (Hong Chau, under-deployed).

Our heroine is downright sweet compared to Heathcliff. That’s especially true regarding his treatment of Isabella (Alison Oliver). She’s a secondary character who appears airlifted in from a “Fifty Shades of Grey” installment.

The film’s opening sequence lets us know this adaptation may teeter on the edge of camp. We hear someone moaning in what appears to be pleasure and hear the kind of creaking associated with a well-worn bed frame.

The reveal is quite different, letting Fennell warn us to adjust expectations. That’s truth in advertising.

This “Wuthering Heights” is aimed at those with little patience for period romances. Comic relief abounds, and over-the-top touches keep modern audiences engaged. 

The two-plus-hour running time is a mistake, but there isn’t a sequence that isn’t lovely to behold.

Fennell shrewdly sketches the class divide impeding this pulpy romance, but its woven expertly into the narrative. Other flourishes are more curious, once again keeping us off balance while the source material peeks out from the surface.

Your mileage may vary, but those willing to accept a story that’s merely influenced by a literary classic will come away entertained.

HiT or Miss: “Wuthering Heights” isn’t your father’s take on Emily Brontë’s classic yarn. Embrace that hard truth, and you’ll be swept away by what follows.

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