Hey folks,
First and foremost: apologies for the hiatus. I’ve been contending with the morals using this website, given their recent statements on their business practices. Also, I’ve just been generally quite busy with work and life. I’m going to eschew my personal thoughts and feelings about Substack for the time being, as I’ve felt inspired by YouTuber Broey Dechenel’s review of Saltburn, and wish to expand on it a little.
I recently fell for the bait and watched Emerald Fennell’s newest film, a venture whose existence could only be born from the mind of a waspy, formally trained (with all the cultural and social currency that affords), millennial. That may sound crass, perhaps even a little cruel, but I feel it’s an appropriate reaction to a film that, in my opinion, should feel like an affront to anyone working class. I’ve never been one to indulge bullies, and this film is nothing if not a bully, veiled behind layers of stylish smoke and mirrors.
Saltburn is truly one of the most bafflingly uncritical class satires I’ve seen in a long while, maybe ever—a piece of media belonging to a recent trend of class satires that are designed solely to pander; media that dons the aesthetics and sentiments of progressivism as a means to exploit it; a Trojan horse. It’s a trend classified by inert jabs and empty criticism. “All style, no substance” is a trite, but apt description. Something, something, all critiques of capitalism will be subsumed under capitalism.
So what is it about Saltburn that makes it especially offensive? Let’s discuss.
It stands to reason: spoiler warning for Saltburn, as well as The Talented Mr. Ripley.
Parody: The Highest Form of Flattery
Saltburn focuses on seemingly meek, middle class Oxford student Oliver Swift, who finds himself spontaneously—so we’re led to believe—swept up into the glamour and glitz of the elite Catton family and their extravagant Saltburn estate.
As pointed out by Broey, anyone who has read The Talented Mr. Ripley—or watched its film adaptation—will immediately tune into Saltburn’s similarities. Both works feature a young man who latches onto another young man of high social and economic class, eventually—through nefarious means—taking their place, both figuratively and literally.
In The Talented Mr. Ripley, Tom Ripley manipulates his way into (barely) acquaintance Richard’s company, ultimately killing him and taking his identity when his romantic feelings aren’t reciprocated. Saltburn follows this same, general arc. Though, where Tom Ripley’s motivations are gleaned over time through subtext, Oliver’s are not. In fact, it seems the whole point of Oliver’s insidious reveal at the end of the film is to be a complete rug pull. However, unlike other, effective plot twists, this one feels entirely unearned, meant to shock more than to be a revelation.
So, why does The Talented Mr. Ripley succeed where Saltburn fails? In essence, it is because the former presents us with material causes, where the latter does not.
Tom Ripley is a violent sociopath: he’s a master manipulator, criminal forgerer, identity thief, and, not to minimize, a serial murderer. Yet, unlike Saltburn, there lies in Ripley subtext that hints at the root causes of the titular character’s criminal tendencies, thus engendering pity. Tom is a product of repression; instead of resisting prejudice and discrimination, and doing his best to embrace who he is, he continuously takes strides to become entirely congruous with society. He becomes the amoeba; he does not simply camouflage himself as others—he sheds his self, absorbing and adopting not only the form, but the psychology of the very people and institutions that have, and continue to ostracize him for his otherness. He believes that if he could be like them, become them, he could finally, truly belong. He is prey, so, he becomes predator. Conformity is, for Tom, a survival tactic—he adapts violently.
In Saltburn, we’re given no reason for Oliver’s face turn other than that he supposedly feels excluded from the elitism of the Catton’s and their class, and spites them for their position. He feels he is superior to them, that they do not deserve to have what they have. His goal is to prove it to them, to show he is the better hunter, the harder worker. If Tom is the amoeba, then Oliver is the chameleon, superficially blending into his environment, awaiting the perfect moment to strike.
This metaphor—Oliver qua predator—is made explicit in the film, Oliver even describing the Catton’s as
“Fat dogs, with no natural predators…”
If we’re generous, this seems to point towards a critique of boot-straps capitalism, perhaps saying, “hey, Oliver is the natural conclusion of this harmful ideology”. However, by grounding this critique in the psychology of a character like Oliver, I can’t help but infer that Fennell is implying that this rhetoric sprouts from, and is perpetuated by, the working class, and not the institutions that exploit them. It is as if the film is saying that the Catton’s and those of their status should be afraid of the inherent violence and amorality of the lower classes. It’s the same form of anti-revolutionary tactic that is deployed by those in power anytime there is uprising over economic and social injustice. Overall, it’s a take so removed from reality that it lands about as gracefully as this:
Furthermore, the same appeal to repression made for Tom Ripley cannot be made for Oliver because, by all accounts, he is unabashed by his sexuality, nor are any of the queer characters necessarily shamed for theirs. What’s more, apart from being snooty and insincere, the Catton’s aren’t even depicted particularly negatively. They are not overtly bigoted, and they treat Oliver relatively decent, even if their motivations for doing so aren’t exactly altruistic. Truthfully, they are the least believable ultrarich family I can think of, especially considering the film is set in the mid-aughts.
How the film juxtaposes Oliver and the Catton’s begs one to wonder just what exactly the film is supposed to be a critique of. If it is a critique of the wealthy, it isn’t very compelling; if it is a critique of the public’s treatment of the 1%, then it is a scab; if it is a critique of nothing, then it is a meaningless venture. Oliver’s lackluster motivations as a villain tell us nothing about the material conditions of the world, about exploitation, or social consciousness. I’m not saying all films must be partisan, but Fennell is clearly aping the visual language of the class satire, and deliberately forming those genre expectations; subverting our expectations about whom the class commentary is aimed at just for the sake of a rug-pull doesn’t make it suddenly divorced from intention. Oliver hunts for sport, and is, by the film’s own judgement, meant to sow distrust and fear of the average citizen.
Agree? Disagree? I’d love to hear people’s opinions on this film! While I come off rather negatively here, I promise that there are elements of the film I enjoyed, such as the performances, for example. The positives are just…outweighed, lol.