Emerald Fennell
Saltburn

For weeks, there has been a lot of talk about Saltburn, the second film by Emerald Fennell.

What immediately stands out, once the 130-minute viewing is over, is how Saltburn is not an ordinary film, but rather one of those films that demand reflection on what has been seen, not so much because of the complexity of the plot (very clear), but rather for the richness of stimuli and suggestions, of even opposing sensations within the same work. In every respect, Saltburn is a precious and fascinating film for this reason, because of its inevitably divisive nature, making it even more interesting.

Even with due proportions, it’s the kind of sensation typical of films by much more extreme and uncomfortable directors like von Trier, Aronofsky, Lanthimos.
And Saltburn is also a film that beguiles and disconcerts. It enchants with a sublime and technically excellent style that takes you back to the now dramatically distant 2006, yet without giving the impression of moving to a moment different from that of our present. Because what Saltburn talks about concerns recurring dynamics inherent to all times. Dynamics related to class tension that, since Parasite, have become very current in cinema again, without ever abating in the world outside the screen, of course.

The Luciferian parable of Saltburn - and its great protagonist Oliver, played by the exceptional Barry Keoghan - develops differently compared to recent films (including the Palme d'Or winner Triangle of Sadness) following the 2020 Oscar winner, and starts from school, with a very well-suited and intelligent narrative by the author and director Fennell: the building of the entire social structure, in fact, with its relative inequalities, starts there, takes form, and roots itself in the mind. The power relations, envy, and rivalries that simmer internally, setting the soul on fire with the desire for advancement and revenge starting from the bottom.

And from that elusive, mysterious, and suspended period that is adolescence.

The most beautiful and successful part of the film is indeed the initial and Oxford section, as far as I am concerned.

Seeing the world from below, rather than from above (a didactic choice in this sense, reflected in the choice of lead actors and their respective physical height differences), offers the possibility of a different perspective, not even necessarily a worse one, on how to first bring oneself to parity, and then finally supplant those who boasted and flaunted a privileged condition not obtained by particular merits, except for the luck of the family tree and inheritance.

Using the tool of intelligence to make up for what the social hierarchy has determined.

And, beyond intelligence, it is the tool of the body and sex that becomes the extraordinary power catalyst capable of subverting the balances.

Taken individually, the elements present in Saltburn are not original, clearly; also because, as mentioned, they refer to eternal dynamics and thus have been explored many times by art.
However, the mosaic presented in this film is dark and disturbing enough. It’s impossible to feel empathy for any of the characters involved in the macabre representation of a world seen, scrutinized, observed from the window, from above, or from afar, slowly germinating desires for conquest and destruction. But also the frustrations, resentments, thoughts that stir in restlessness.

Voyeurism is indeed not a secondary component in Saltburn, and it is central to the theoretical framework of the work.

The finale is impressive, as it shows the end of a long and victorious plan leading to a happy solitude in enjoying the hard-won conquest. A conquest for its own sake, one might say. Yet Oliver celebrates his satisfaction, feeling no pain in living completely alone in an immense castle.

The world represented in Saltburn, despite questionable moments and some stylistic lapses, is indeed a world devoid of values and hence it would be misleading to talk about it as an ideological film. Saltburn is quite the opposite.

A film with enormous aesthetic and visual impact, rich in symbols but not showing a complete authorial maturity by the director and screenwriter of Promising Young Woman.

In the final tally, however, the positive aspects outweigh the more unpleasant, imperfect, and controversial ones.

The display of wealth and rituals, lies, and pettiness has, in the luxurious and erotic 4:3 frame of Saltburn, something incandescent and impossible to ignore. One might love it, despise it, but it cannot be ignored.

And this is, as I initially suggested, the greatest strength of this film and the reason why, all current limitations considered, Emerald Fennell is an author who deserves to be watched closely.