"Saltburn" - Film Review
It’s hard not to be a little swept up in the opening montage of Saltburn, a sequence that introduces the audience to Felix (Jacob Elordi) by way of an older Oliver (Barry Keoghan) recounting his freshman year at Oxford University. Oliver attempts to answer the question of whether or not he was in love with Felix. Through his reflection, he admits that he did love Felix, but he’s not sure if he was ever in love with Felix. The images we see of Felix betray Oliver’s statements. They’re all extreme close-ups, a dreamy reminiscence of this beautiful, charismatic boy and the year he and Felix spent together. Of course, as Saltburn unwinds, things are not as rose-colored as they once seemed.
The title of the film comes from the name of Felix’s sprawling estate in the English countryside. He extends an offer to Oliver: spend the summer with him and his family at Saltburn. It’s a complete culture shock for Oliver, just like Oxford was. Unlike Felix, Oliver is at Oxford on a scholarship. It’s a distinction that separates him from the affluent world of his collegiate peers, who all came into the school year having known each other for years. What endears Oliver to Felix is his kindness without any expectation of something in return.
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Perhaps at its most simple, Saltburn is about obsession and what it can do to a person. “It’s a dream,” says Felix’s cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe) to Oliver. He’s referring to the country estate, something neither of them is ever likely to have on their own. Farleigh is included in the upper echelon as a favor to his mother, but he does not have the family name, money, or social status on his own. To be that close to the opulent world of the Catton family is to get a taste without ever feeling full. Living on an empty stomach can lead people to making terrible decisions.
It’s interesting to see the reception the film has garnered. Writer/director Emerald Fennell is no stranger to alienating large swaths of moviegoers. Her first film, Promising Young Woman, won the Academy Award for Original Screenplay, although no one could seem to agree if it was wildly feminist or if it set women back fifty years. The same split seems to exist with the release of Saltburn, except this time it’s sex that’s at the center of the discourse. It’s a topic that’s been front and center of many social media debates — whether a sex scene in a film serves any purpose except to titillate the viewer.
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Saltburn does not shy away from sex and nudity. For those who have been delayed in seeing the movie, there’s a bit of “that’s it?” in terms of shock value. What has split the audience is whether the film has earned its provocative reputation. Of course everyone’s interpretation is different, but Saltburn does not feel like it exists purely to surprise the audience. Nor is it meant to be a scathing condemnation of Felix, his family, or the affluent lifestyle they lead. It’s a pulpy critique of the class system that doesn’t have bite, but it never barked like it had one either.
Comparisons to The Talented Mr. Ripley are inevitable. After all, it is a poor boy befriending a spoiled rich kid and the darkness that ensues. That being said, Saltburn stands on its own. Stylistically, it’s more muted than Promising Young Woman. The candy-colored world of Fennell’s first film is traded in for dark academia aesthetics at Oxford and dreamy, hazy summer days at Saltburn. The film is presented in a square aspect ratio, but the need for this tightened scope never feels fully justified. In fact, at times, the film feels like it’s pushing at the edges, begging to show the full breadth of this rich, maximalist world.
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The film’s conclusion does leave a little to be desired. The plot twist doesn’t feel entirely earned. The ending makes sense, but the script missed a few steps to get there. As Saltburn ends, there’s a distinct feeling of “why.” Not in the sense of why the film as a whole was made, but in the more micro sense of a character’s actions that lead to the conclusion. That’s the main setback; that the driving force of the film’s “twist” doesn’t explain how we got there. There are enough breadcrumbs that make just enough sense for it not to fully feel out of left field, but the script could have put in a little more context.
Saltburn is not quite the Hitchcockian psychological thriller the trailer built it up to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s not without its own merits. Saltburn is an ugly, shallow, and immaculate tale of obsession.
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