“Wuthering Heights” Returns to Theaters With a 2026 Big-Screen Reboot Starring Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie

A new “Wuthering Heights” adaptation hit theaters on February 13, 2026, bringing Emily Brontë’s stormy classic back into the cultural spotlight—this time with Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff and Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw. The release is already triggering familiar debates about what the novel is “supposed” to be, while also generating fresh conversation about star chemistry, marketing choices, and how far a period romance can push modern sensibilities.

A Gothic romance reboot lands in 2026—and it’s playing like an event movie

Brontë’s 1847 novel has never been short on heat or cruelty, but the new film is being treated less like a “required reading” adaptation and more like a mainstream release designed to dominate the conversation. The timing matters: early 2026 has seen audiences showing up for recognizable stories with a distinctive visual hook, and “Wuthering Heights” offers both—windswept moors, intense emotion, and a title with instant literary cachet.

Even people who haven’t read the book tend to know the shorthand: doomed love, generational fallout, and a central relationship that’s as destructive as it is magnetic. That familiarity is helping the film break out beyond the usual costume-drama crowd, pulling in viewers who are primarily there for the stars or the director’s signature tone.

The Elordi-as-Heathcliff question is back, and it’s not just about looks

Casting Heathcliff always invites scrutiny because the character’s identity and social positioning are central to the story’s power. The novel repeatedly marks him as an outsider—socially, culturally, and in how others perceive his “difference.” Any modern adaptation that softens that tension risks turning the story into a more conventional romance and reducing its uglier engine: obsession, class resentment, and revenge.

That’s why the conversation around Elordi’s casting isn’t simply “book accuracy” nitpicking. It’s also about what the film chooses to emphasize: the romance’s surface appeal versus the discomforting elements that made the novel endure. When audiences argue over whether a Heathcliff feels too polished, they’re often arguing over whether the adaptation is confronting the story’s brutality—or packaging it.

Margot Robbie’s post-“Barbie” moment changes the frame of the whole release

Robbie’s presence shifts expectations in a way earlier “Wuthering Heights” versions didn’t have to manage. After “Barbie,” she carries a rare mix of blockbuster credibility and image-making power, and that changes how a period drama is marketed and received. Viewers aren’t only evaluating Catherine as a character; they’re also reading the performance through the lens of Robbie’s larger arc: a star who can headline a cultural phenomenon and then pivot into darker, stranger material.

The “Barbie” connection also affects the discourse around branding. When an adaptation becomes a style moment—red carpets, visuals, and instantly meme-ready details—it can fuel interest, but it can also create backlash from readers who want the novel treated as something other than an aesthetic. The tension is real: visibility helps a literary story reach new audiences, but it can also flatten the book into vibes.

The “chemistry” narrative is doing heavy lifting—and it’s part of the strategy

A major share of the film’s early oxygen is coming from the idea that its leads have intense on-screen chemistry. That’s not accidental. “Wuthering Heights” lives or dies on whether the central relationship feels inevitable, not merely dramatic. If Catherine and Heathcliff read as ordinary romantic leads, the story’s extremes can feel melodramatic; if they feel dangerously fused, the fallout makes sense.

What’s interesting is how chemistry talk functions as a kind of pre-emptive framing device. It encourages audiences to see the film as visceral and intimate rather than strictly “faithful,” and it steers attention toward performance and mood—the parts of an adaptation that can succeed even when plot or interpretation choices divide fans.

What readers of the book should remember—plus the “withering” vs “wuthering” confusion

Your search terms include “withering heights,” and that mix-up is common. The correct title is “Wuthering Heights.” “Wuthering” refers to stormy, blustery weather—an atmospheric clue to the moorland setting and the emotional turbulence inside the house.

If you’re coming from the novel, a few guardrails help when judging any adaptation:

• The book is not a straightforward romance; it’s a tragedy with obsession at its core.

• The structure matters: nested narration, time jumps, and generational consequences.

• The cruelty is part of the point. When it’s softened, the story becomes something else.

What’s still unclear, and what to watch next as the release unfolds

Because the film is newly in theaters, several storylines will determine whether it becomes a lasting hit or a loud moment that fades quickly:

• Audience vs. critic split: If general audiences embrace the intensity while reviewers remain divided, the film could play steadily on momentum and curiosity.

• Box office legs: Period dramas often rely on word-of-mouth. Strong second-weekend hold would be a meaningful signal.

• The adaptation argument: If debate around interpretation and casting keeps dominating, it can sustain attention—but also polarize potential viewers.

• Awards positioning: If the performances and craft elements (cinematography, score, costumes) become the focus, the conversation may shift from controversy to prestige.

• Spillover to the book: Watch for renewed interest in the novel—especially among younger audiences discovering it through the film.

One thing is already clear: “Wuthering Heights” (2026) isn’t arriving quietly. It’s being treated as a cultural object—part literary revival, part star vehicle, part argument magnet—and that mix tends to keep a movie in the conversation long after opening weekend.