
Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights was always going to lean hard into atmosphere. That much felt obvious the second people heard Fennell was directing Emily Brontë’s feverish old nightmare of a love story, with Margot Robbie as Cathy and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff.
The film has been pitched as a bold, sensual reimagining rather than a careful museum-piece adaptation, and that matters because it changes how the landscape works. In this version, the moors are not just where the story happens. They are the story’s emotional language. The open land, the wind, the mud, the feeling that nobody is fully sheltered out there, all of it turns the moors into a living symbol of desire without safety.
Quick Answer: In Wuthering Heights, the moors symbolize wild desire, emotional freedom, danger, and the part of Cathy and Heathcliff that cannot survive inside polite society. They offer escape from class rules and domestic control, but they also reveal how unstable and destructive their bond can become.
The Moors Are Freedom With a Price
The easiest mistake is to read the moors as pure freedom, as if they represent some romantic escape from the suffocating rules of class and marriage. They do represent escape, but only partly. The moors offer Cathy and Heathcliff a world beyond drawing rooms, polite conversation, and all the little performances that make respectable society look stable. Out there, they are closer to their raw selves.
But gothic symbolism rarely gives you freedom for free. The moors are wild, and wildness in this story is never just thrilling. It is unstable. It is physically beautiful and spiritually dangerous. That matters for Cathy especially. Margot Robbie’s Cathy is likely to feel split between two identities, the social self that can survive inside polished interiors and the unrulier self that belongs to the wind and earth. The moors represent the version of her that refuses to be fully domesticated.
That is why the landscape feels so emotionally charged. It is not saying, “Be free and all will be well.” It is saying, “Here is the part of you that cannot live by the rules, and here is the cost of that.”
The Landscape Reflects Heathcliff’s Inner Life
Heathcliff has always belonged to the moors in a way that other characters do not. That sounds poetic, but in gothic terms it is harsher than that. He belongs to a space that is exposed, untamed, and never fully accepted by the world of property and status.
The moors mirror that condition. They are difficult to control, impossible to clean up, and always slightly threatening even when they look gorgeous. That is Heathcliff all over. He is magnetic, but he is not safe. He carries injury, rage, longing, and humiliation everywhere he goes, and the moors symbolize a psyche shaped by those things. They are not neat, and neither is he.
In a softer romance, the natural landscape might suggest healing. Here it suggests intensification. The more Cathy and Heathcliff exist in that environment, the more their attachment starts to feel elemental instead of healthy. It becomes weather. It becomes instinct. It becomes the kind of bond that burns through whatever structure tries to contain it.
The Moors Sit Outside Class Order

One of the smartest things the moors do symbolically is disrupt class. Inside houses, class is visible in every object. Clothes matter. Manners matter. Furniture matters. Who sits where matters. But on the moors, those markers lose some of their power.
That does not mean class disappears. Far from it. The whole tragedy of Wuthering Heights depends on the fact that class comes roaring back the second characters return to organized social life. Still, the moors create a temporary zone where conventional hierarchy looks thinner and more fragile. Cathy and Heathcliff can imagine a connection there that feels bigger than status. The problem is that imagination cannot hold forever.
This is where the symbolism gets painful. The moors show them a form of emotional truth, but not a livable future. They can feel equal there in spirit, maybe even inseparable, yet the social world waiting beyond that landscape is still brutal. So the moors become the place where desire outruns reality. They are the geography of impossible wanting.
The Contrast With the Houses Tells You Everything
You cannot understand the moors without thinking about the interiors that oppose them. Gothic storytelling runs on contrast. Open land versus closed rooms. Wind versus suffocation. Mud versus polish. Instinct versus performance.
So when the film moves between rough outdoor space and controlled domestic interiors, it is doing more than varying the visuals. It is mapping a moral and psychological divide. The houses are places of social meaning, but they are also places of repression. The moors are places of emotional truth, but that truth is chaotic. Neither space offers peace. One crushes the soul politely, and the other lets it run feral.
That is probably why this material fits Fennell so well. The film’s early imagery and conversation around Fennell’s style suggest a highly stylized, provocative visual language, especially in the tension between beauty, danger, and unruly desire. In that kind of interpretation, the moors become more than background scenery. They become the film’s clearest symbol for the fact that passion can feel transcendent and catastrophic at the same time.
What the Moors Really Mean

So what do the moors really represent in Wuthering Heights? Not simple freedom. Not simple doom either. They represent the part of human feeling that refuses to be civilized into something respectable and manageable. They are longing without walls, identity without stability, and love stripped of comforting illusions.
That is why they matter so much in a modern adaptation. If Fennell’s film works, it will work because it understands that the moors are not decorative gothic wallpaper. They are where the story’s deepest argument lives. Cathy and Heathcliff are never more themselves than when they are out there, and that is exactly the problem. The moors show them who they are beneath social performance. What they reveal is powerful, intoxicating, and more than a little terrifying. That is gothic symbolism at its best.

Rachel Sikkema is a New Zealand-based writer and creative entrepreneur who explores the intersection of film, culture, and modern relationships. Through her articles, she examines how stories shape the way we connect, love and see ourselves. When she’s not writing about film and television, she’s watching Dexter and The White Lotus for the third time.