The literary Bronte sisters struggle to get their lives in order in the midst of a dour old house, a severe father, and moody rolling moors.
These Gothic costume dramas usually show the old studios hitting on all eight cylinders. Just check out the exterior sets here. It's obviously not the real outdoors the sisters hike along. But who cares because they're so artistically done—the crags, the waterfall, the hilly moors. They're all real eye-catchers, establishing just the right Gothic mood. Warner's production crews did a bang-up job, showing that you don't need digital to get the right effect.
Of course, I like anything with the great Ida Lupino. Here she does more of a hardened type than the soft, dreamy types of High Sierra (1941) or Deep Valley (1947). But that too is okay since her real feelings are kept below the surface, which we only detect now and again. It's fitting that the depth of those feelings finally surface in Emily's (Lupino) great romantic novel Wuthering Heights, and smoldering they are.
Speaking of romance, I really can't see the girls getting all hot and bothered over a couple of stiffs like Henreid and Francen, especially Francen who acts like someone's randy old grandfather. But you do have to hand it to Arthur Kennedy. He gets to pull out all stops as the self-destructive Branwell, managing to make a drunken scene wherever he goes. As a result and thanks to him, I'll think twice about my next beer.
All in all, it takes about 90-moody minutes for the sisters to straighten things out. But in the meantime they've given me a number of memorable scenes that have lasted for years since I first saw the movie. Yes indeed, there's a lot to be said for those old Hollywood dream factories.
