A Forbidden Love Burns Fiercely Across Wild Moorlands: Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi Set the Screen Ablaze in the First Wuthering Heights Trailer

Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights doesn’t arrive in cinemas until Valentine’s Day 2026, but the newly unleashed trailer has already scorched the internet.

In just two minutes and forty-three seconds, Searchlight Pictures has reminded the world why Brontë’s 1847 masterpiece remains the ultimate toxic, all-consuming love story: because some fires refuse to die, even when they burn everything to ash.

The trailer opens on a single, haunting image: a lone figure in black galloping across the storm-lashed Yorkshire moors, wind ripping at his coat like the cries of the dead.

Then Jacob Elordi’s Heathcliff turns his face to the camera, rain streaming down sharp cheekbones, eyes wild with something between grief and hunger.

“I am Heathcliff,” he growls, voice raw, and the screen explodes into a montage of obsession, violence, and the kind of desire that feels dangerous to even watch.

Margot Robbie’s Catherine Earnshaw is no delicate Gothic heroine. From the first frame she appears barefoot on the moors, white nightgown plastered to her body by the rain, laughing defiantly into the thunder.

“He’s more myself than I am,” she whispers, the famous line delivered not as poetry but as confession, as if she’s admitting a mortal sin. The camera lingers on her mouth, on the way she bites her lower lip when she says his name.

This is Catherine as a live wire: beautiful, cruel, untameable.

And the chemistry? Nuclear.

In one sequence that has already racked up fifteen million views on TikTok in under twelve hours, Heathcliff pins Catherine against the crumbling wall of Wuthering Heights during a storm. Lightning flashes. Her fingers claw into his hair.

They kiss like they’re trying to devour each other, teeth clashing, breath ragged. When they finally break apart, Catherine’s lip is bleeding. Heathcliff licks the blood away and snarls, “If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be.” The internet simply wrote: we are not okay.

Fennell, fresh from the razor-sharp satire of Saltburn, has stripped away the polite period-drama varnish. This is Wuthering Heights as erotic fever dream.

The camera caresses skin the way Victorian novels never dared: Catherine’s throat when Heathcliff’s hand circles it, the flex of his back under her nails, the moment she straddles him on the heather and the sky itself seems to hold its breath.

Costume designer Arianne Phillips has dressed Robbie in gossamer-thin muslins that turn translucent in the rain, while Elordi spends half the trailer shirtless, scarred, and streaked with mud, every inch the “dark-skinned gypsy” Brontë described, now rendered in high-definition glory.

Fans who worried the adaptation might soften the story’s brutality can relax. The trailer doesn’t flinch from the darkness. We see Heathcliff’s hand crack across Hindley’s face. We see Catherine claw at her own wedding ring until her finger bleeds.

We see ghosts: a child’s handprint on fogged glass, a woman in white screaming on the moors, Heathcliff digging frantically in the earth with his bare hands while sobbing her name. “Haunt me, then!” he roars into the night, and the screen cuts to black.

Jacob Elordi, still riding the gothic high of Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein (where he played a tragically gentle Monster), has completely inverted himself here. Gone is the tender giant; this Heathcliff is feral, magnetic, terrifying.

In a new behind-the-scenes featurette released alongside the trailer, Elordi admitted he gained twenty pounds of muscle and spent weeks on the moors learning to ride bareback “so I could feel what it was to be half-wild.” Director Fennell simply says of his performance: “Jacob didn’t play Heathcliff.

He became possessed by him.”

Margot Robbie, producing through LuckyChap Entertainment, has been dreaming of this role for years. “Catherine Earnshaw is the original bad bitch,” she told Vanity Fair last month. “She’s not waiting to be saved. She wants to burn the world down because it keeps her and Heathcliff apart.

I relate to that more than I probably should.”

The supporting cast is stacked: Olivia Colman as a venomous Nelly Dean who clearly relishes every poisonous word, Barry Keoghan as a drunken, sadistic Hindley, and Phoebe Waller-Bridge in a gender-flipped role as Isabella Linton, delivering the line “He’d crush you like a sparrow’s egg” with gleeful malice.

But it’s the central pair that has broken the internet. Twitter is flooded with side-by-side screenshots: Elordi’s Frankenstein Monster cradling a child versus Elordi’s Heathcliff slamming Catherine against a wall mid-kiss.

The caption writes itself: “Sir, this is the same man???” Margot Robbie’s Instagram comments are a war zone of thirsty emojis and crying faces. One viral post reads: “Margot Robbie just invented Valentine’s Day horniness and I need to speak to the manager of my nervous system.”

Searchlight’s decision to drop the trailer on November 28, exactly twelve weeks before the February 14 release, feels deliberate torture. The final shot lingers on Catherine and Heathcliff standing on Penistone Crags, wind whipping their clothes, staring at each other like the rest of the world has already burned away.

She whispers, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” and he answers, voice breaking, “Be with me always, take any form, drive me mad.” Then the screen cuts to the release date over a single, blood-red rose petal drifting across stone.

Early buzz from test screenings is breathless. One insider claims the film is “what would happen if Jane Eyre and Fight Club had a baby raised by wolves.” Another simply texted: “I need to be sedated.”

As the trailer ends and the comments explode, one thing is clear: Emerald Fennell has not made a polite literary adaptation. She has weaponised Brontë’s story into something raw, sexual, and unapologetically deranged. This is Wuthering Heights for people who thought romance was dead.

Valentine’s Day 2026 is going to hurt so good.

Watch the full trailer below. But maybe don’t do it at work. Or do. We’re not your supervisor. 🔥