Saltburn Review: Thriller Buoyed by Its Sense of Self-Importance

Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn Is Buoyed Only by Its Sense of Self-Importance

After the blush of positive first reviews for Emerald Fennell’s directorial debut Promising Young Woman, there was a sudden, furious backlash positioned around her own aristocratic heritage. The film’s serrated criticism of patriarchal violence was dulled by the distance of her perspective, the insulation of her highly privileged background undermining any universally applicable, feminist message. It is hard to know how much this critical ire informed the subject of her new project Saltburn—a chronicling of the friendship between working class Oliver (Barry Keoghan) and old-moneyed Felix (Jacob Elordi), both embarking on their first year at Oxford University (Fennell’s alma mater). Regardless of any intentions, what Saltburn proves is that Fennell is game to stride into public discourse and fold controversy into her work.

Complete with MGMT tracks and low-rise jeans, Saltburn is a stylized take on the early 2000s, capturing the hollow aspirations of a generation raised on the grit and glamor of early reality TV. Felix is the charismatic center of college life, wielding his partying antics to generate endless conversations and hold sway over his peers. This kind of heedless social ease can be traced back to the social security of wealth and private education, but Fennell does nothing to exemplify how this kind of soft power is exercised for tangible gain. Indeed, much of the film’s grappling with how the class system is manifested in U.K. universities is rote and bland. When Felix and Oliver finally become friends, it is met with disdain by their fellow private school graduates, who complain of Oliver’s secondhand clothes. Such a comment feels markedly unclear, a broad wallop rather than a piece of pinpoint satire. Saltburn’s brash observations are rendered pointless with this kind of weird non-specificity.

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Class is a fraught and slippery issue, a shape-shifting specter hanging over society, but Fennell struggles to convey anything new or meaningful about its functionality. Rather than deconstructing its machinations, she relishes in its visual manifestations, and as such, Saltburn is at its most entertaining when Oliver moves into Felix’s family mansion (the eponymous Saltburn) and gets to wander its web of mahogany hallways, reclining on the worn and priceless furniture.

It is a world Fennell is clearly very familiar with and she knows how to animate the artifacts and rolling hills that make these estates so distinct. Upon Oliver’s arrival, he is greeted with a tour of the grounds, shot from his wandering perspective, as the camera rolls from grand room to grand room. Through these maneuvers, Fennell makes the lives of England’s ruling class feel both pointless and hypnotically appealing. This contradiction is the fulcrum Saltburn rests upon, tipping wildly back and forth between insightful social commentary and unrestrained romp through aristocratic life.

But Fennell’s limited ability to translate a character’s interiority to the screen leaves her performers stranded in a sea of beautifully sculpted sets. Keoghan uses his still, wide-eyed observance to lure an unsuspecting audience in as Oliver, while Elordi is boyishly charming, with his towering figure casting an imposing shadow over every scene. Rosamund Pike rounds out the supporting cast with her most deliciously unhinged performance since Gone Girl. With this ensemble, Fennell frequently reverts to the crudest way of expressing a feeling, positioning actors in painterly, unnatural ways—like placing characters squarely on opposite sides of an open window, one totally unaware of the other’s presence, to frame the distance and duplicity of this world. Such basic shot construction highlights Saltburn’s lack of imagination, unable to pair its cry of “eat the rich!” with captivating action. Such underlying political flimsiness upends what could otherwise be an entertaining thriller.

Saltburn is a sequined and sticky mess, every ensuing plot twist delivered like a bludgeon to the temple—with new developments echoing over viewers with a dizzying ferocity. While there are thrills sprinkled throughout, there is very little subtext simmering beneath Saltburn. Interesting-at-first character dynamics and visual ideas are introduced, but it is always unclear whether they will go unacknowledged by the plot or simply be deployed as the most obvious metaphor for class dynamics. Fennell’s commentary is buoyed only by its own sense of self-importance; fizzy, light and barely there, despite insisting otherwise.

Director: Emerald Fennell
Writer: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, Rosamund Pike, Richard E. Grant, Alison Oliver, Archie Madekwe
Release Date: November 17, 2023

London-based film writer Anna McKibbin loves digging into classic film stars and movie musicals. Find her on Twitter to see what she is currently obsessed with.

Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn Is Buoyed Only by Its Sense of Self-Importance