‘The Brontë Sisters Are Rolling in Their Graves’

I started my afternoon at a 3 p.m. showing at the Alamo Drafthouse in Brooklyn. In the lobby, there was a large cardboard bench shaped like something from “Wuthering Heights”, but no one was sitting on it. The theater wasn’t very crowded, mostly filled with people watching the movie alone, a few couples, and a small group of women enjoying Champagne. You could feel the excitement in the air, mixed with the lingering smell of snow. I spoke with a friendly man named Jared, 27, who had read the book a year ago before the movie came out, but he was really there because of his mother. He explained, “She loves the book, but she won’t see this movie because she doesn’t think it’s a faithful adaptation. She thinks it’s terrible!” He added with a pause, “That’s just her opinion.” He rated the book itself a “seven or higher” out of ten, but declared Margot Robbie “the greatest actress ever.”








