Wuthering Heights

Synopsis: The story of unfortunate lovers Heathcliff and Cathy who, despite a deep affection for one another, are forced by circumstance and prejudice to live their apart. Heathcliff and Cathy first meet as children when her father brings the abandoned boy to live with them. When the old man dies several years later Cathy's brother, now the master of the estate, turns Heathcliff out forcing him to live with the servants and working as a stable boy. The barrier of class comes between them and she eventually marries a rich neighbor, Mr. Edgar Linton, at which point Heathcliff disappears. He returns several years later, now a rich man but little can be done.
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director(s): William Wyler
Production: United Artists
  Won 1 Oscar. Another 5 wins & 7 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.7
Rotten Tomatoes:
95%
APPROVED
Year:
1939
104 min
977 Views


Call off your ungodly dogs!

Down!

Quiet! Down!

Are you Mr. Heathcliff?

Well, I'm Mr. Lockwood,

your new tenant at the Grange.

I'm lost. L...

Can I get a guide

from amongst your lads?

No, you cannot. I've only got one,

and he's needed here.

Well, then, I'll have to stay

till morning.

Do as you please.

Quiet! Down!

Thank you for your hospitality.

Could you extend it to a cup of tea?

- Shall I?

- You heard him ask for it.

Thank you.

I presume the amiable lady

is Mrs. Heathcliff?

Would it be taxing your remarkable

hospitality if I sat down?

I hope my hospitality

will teach you...

not to make rash journeys

on these moors.

As for staying here, I don't keep

accommodations for visitors.

You can share a bed

with one of the servants.

Thanks. I'll sleep in a chair, sir.

No. A stranger is a stranger.

Guests are so rare in this house

that I hardly know how to receive them.

I and my dog.

Joseph, open up

one of the upstairs rooms.

Here's a room for thee, sir.

Bridal chamber.

Nobody slept here for years.

It's a trifle depressing.

- Can you light a fire?

- No fire will burn in yonder grate.

Chimbley's all blocked up.

Very well. Thanks.

Good night.

I said good night.

Heathcliff!

Let me in!

I'm lost on the moors!

- It's Cathy!

- Help! Mr. Heathcliff!

There's somebody out!

Oh, Mr. Heathcliff!

There's someone out there.

It's a woman. I heard her calling.

She said her name.

Cathy. That was it!

Cathy?

Oh, I must have been dreaming.

Forgive me.

Get out of this room.

Get out!

Get out, I tell you!

Cathy! Come in!

Cathy, come back to me.

Oh, do come once more.

Oh, my heart's darling!

Cathy. My own...

My...

Where's he going in the storm?

She calls him...

and he follows her out

onto the moor.

He's mad! He's like a madman.

He seized me by the collar

and flung me out.

You see, I had a dream.

I thought I heard a voice calling.

I reached out to close the shutter,

and something touched me.

Something cold and clinging,

like an icy hand.

And then I saw her.

A woman.

Then my senses must have become

disordered because the falling snow...

shaped itself into what looked like

a phantom, but there was nothing.

It was Cathy.

Who is Cathy?

A girl who died.

Oh, no, I don't believe in ghosts.

I don't believe in phantoms

sobbing through the night.

- Poor Cathy.

- I don't believe life comes back...

once it's died

and calls again to the living.

No, I don't.

Maybe if I told you her story,

you'd change your mind...

about the dead coming back.

Maybe you'd know, as I do...

that there is a force

that brings them back...

if their hearts

were wild enough in life.

Tell me her story.

It began 40 years ago...

when I was young...

in the service of Mr. Earnshaw...

Cathy's father.

Cathy's father.

Wuthering Heights was a lovely place

in those days...

full of summertime and youth

and happy voices.

One day Mr. Earnshaw was returning

from a visit to Liverpool.

- You'll not catch me!

- Yes, I will!

Cathy, go wash! I don't want your father

to see you in that dress.

You too, Hindley.

Hurry up, now.

I don't want to get washed!

Come along! I'll tell your father not

to give you the present he's bringing.

- What's he bringing?

- Go along upstairs.

Joseph says his horse

is coming over the hill.

Evening, Mr. Earnshaw.

- Hello, Joseph.

- Hello, neighbor Earnshaw.

- How are you, Dr. Kenneth?

- Back so soon?

What in the world have you got there?

A gift of God.

Although it's as dark

as if he came from the devil.

- Quiet, me bonny lad, we're home.

- He's a dour-Iooking individual.

Aye, and with reason.

I found him starving in Liverpool...

kicked and bruised and almost dead.

So you kidnapped him.

Not until I spent two pounds trying

to find out who its owner was.

But nobody would claim him,

so I brought him home.

- Giddap!

- Here, here!

Come on, you young imp of Satan.

Off with ye.

- Cathy, Hindley!

- Welcome home. The children are coming.

Don't look so shocked, Ellen.

He's going to live with us for a while.

Give him a good scrubbing...

and put some Christian clothes on him.

Food is what he needs most,

Mr. Earnshaw.

He's as thin as a sparrow.

Come into the kitchen, child.

Cathy! Hindley!

- Father, what did you bring me?

- Hello, Father!

There you are.

It's what you've always wanted.

A riding crop.

Be careful how you use it.

- Oh, it's wonderful!

- I'm so glad you got back soon.

- It's wonderful!

- Ow! Father, make her stop!

No, children.

This is Hindley's violin.

One of the best in Liverpool.

Here. Fine tone.

And a bow to go with it.

Here you are, Paganini.

Who's that?

- He was hungry as a wolf.

- Oh, children.

This is a little gentleman I met

in Liverpool who will pay us a visit.

He... He's dirty.

Oh, no. Don't make me

ashamed of you, Cathy.

When he's been scrubbed,

show him Hindley's room.

- He'll sleep there.

- In my room?

He can't. I won't let him.

Children, you may as well learn now

that you must share what you have...

with others not as fortunate

as yourselves.

- Take charge of the lad, Ellen.

- Come along, child.

What's your name?

We'll call him Heathcliff.

Heathcliff, I'll race you to the barn.

The loser has to be the slave.

Come on!

Faster!

Come on!

Whoa. I won!

You're my slave! You have to do

as I say. Water my horse and groom it!

Oh, that's not fair!

It's too real.

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Charles MacArthur

Charles Gordon MacArthur (November 5, 1895 – April 21, 1956) was an American playwright, screenwriter and 1935 winner of the Academy Award for Best Story. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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