‘Wuthering Heights’ lingerie and ‘Barbie’ Airbnbs: Movie merchandising is going too far
Just recently, I haven’t been able to escape adverts for underwear company Lounge’s Wuthering Heights collaboration popping up on my Instagram feed every time I’m trying to flick through people’s stories, which is depressing for several reasons.
Firstly, it’s a (harsh) reminder of the fact that I’m currently single, and secondly, and more importantly, it serves as a symbol of cinema’s increasingly downwards trajectory, where even adaptations of classic tales of abuse, jealousy, and fiercely unhealthy obsession can’t be marketed without the need for a lingerie tie-in. Emily Brontë must be rolling in her grave, perhaps ready to tap on the windows of whoever decided that this was a good idea.
Emerald Fennell’s latest film takes Wuthering Heights and turns it into a supposedly perverse and BDSM-tinged tale of romance, destroying the source material in the process. Unconventional spins on classic stories have often worked, Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet is a shining example, while even Clueless and 10 Things I Hate About You succeeded without Austen-heads and Shakespeare lovers getting up in arms about the apparent bastardisation of their respective source material. So, could Wuthering Heights not stand on its own, too?
Well, if you’re going to take vital parts of the story out, like the vital character of Hindley, turn Heathcliff’s abuse of Isabella into a BDSM tale, and cast a white Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, who is explicitly described as having dark skin, then you’ve lost the key elements of the narrative, plus the fact that Fennell tried to bring such an erotic lens to a film predominantly concerned with race, class, and relationships you could only label as abusive, is the real issue here, so the tie-in of lingerie lines, cookies, and even an Airbnb designed to look like part of the film is beyond bizarre.
“This edit captures untamed romance and quiet obsession through deep jewel-toned intimates, sculpting corsetry, and intricate embroidery,” Lounge writes. What is this meant to imply when considered in comparison to the book, where Heathcliff abuses Isabella, and almost certainly engages in marital rape, such that Isabella detests him yet gives birth to his child after running away?
Movie merchandising has long been a thing, of course, but it feels like various recent examples have taken the concept to unprecedented and bizarre heights. Let’s look at another Margot Robbie film, the Greta Gerwig-directed Barbie, which was marketed as the new feminist epic that everyone just had to see, released in tandem with every possible piece of merchandise you could imagine.
Like Wuthering Heights, there was an Airbnb tie-in, but Barbie took things a step further. Of course, it helps that Barbie is already a pre-established brand, but all of a sudden, you could immerse yourself in literally all things Barbie, from a Starbucks drink to endless lines of clothing.
The merchandising budget for Barbie was so large that the film quickly became a product, a brand, a commercial endeavour, far from a piece of art. Preaching a pro-capitalist vision of feminism, which ironically ignores how capitalism is pretty much the main oppressor of women, the film cashed in on merchandise; this was clearly a movie aimed to make as much money as possible above anything else.
There’s nothing wrong with a bit of merch every once in a while. I’m not against a T-shirt, a pin badge, a mug, or a tote bag, but when you’re so heavily relying on merchandising tie-ins like lingerie lines, fast food, hotels, and even cars, that’s when things go beyond the realm of acceptability. This reflects a dire state for modern cinema, where money becomes irrevocably weaved into the very fabric of art, and there’s no desire to even hide it.
Movies like Wuthering Heights and Barbie are prime examples of cinema’s rapid decline into a space of overwhelming consumerism, where gimmicks, merchandise, and indulging in ‘art’ through the most sanitised way possible have taken over. I don’t have a solution to make this kind of movie merchandising stop, but I can tell you one thing for certain: Cathy and Heathcliff have nothing to do with £120 lace bodysuits and floral bras.
