Talk about a brooding outdoors, those moody moors may represent a sense of liberation for the lovers, but they're not exactly inviting. Besides, it rains all the time, so best to be in the house even if mansions represent the confining space of class and class privilege. That's the trouble. Cathy is 'to the manor born', as they say. Thus she's really torn between the wild outdoors and the comforts of ballrooms and servants.
Then there's the enigmatic Heathcliffe, a dark wild-souled type guy, perfectly at home in those bleak rolling hills. He was a street ragamuffin before Cathy's elderly father adopted him into the manor as a stable boy. But he and a young Cathy manage to bond despite the class difference, a bond that eventually blossoms into true love. But that true love only breaks to the surface in the wild outdoors where a common humanity replaces artificial social distinctions. If only Cathy could find the will to break free of the leisure class.
What a great visual experience, the b&w expertly coordinated with the settings. When the two lovers approach the rocky crag, there's almost a feeling of an outdoor altar calling to them amidst the brooding hills. It's such a perfect visual contrast to the high-key ballrooms and parlors of the Lintons. The Lintons, however, are not to be despised despite their airs and privileges. In fact, they are very real victims of Cathy's suppressed feelings and Heathcliffe's cold calculations. As it turns out, there is no spectral salvation for them. As a result, the love being portrayed here is a kind of mad love, one that brings tragedy to all concerned. Thus, there's a reason those moors brood in dark fashion, while the movie itself remains the best of the many makes and remakes.
