Saltburn: the film review with Jacob Elordi

The director's first film Emerald Fennell, Promising Young Woman 2020, had an interesting setting – a traumatized woman who takes revenge on predatory men by pretending to be helpless and waiting to strike when they try to take advantage of her – but ultimately lost the plot. Despite winning an Oscar for the screenplay, Fennell couldn't find a satisfactory way to land the plane.

For much of Fennell's new film, Saltburn, we have the feeling of being in firmer and safer hands. This time, Fennell's premise is less reliant on zeitgeist social commentary, which takes some of the pressure off Promising Young Woman, in all its #MeToo alert, suffered. We are back in the early 2000s in Oxford, the hotbed of intellect, wealth and, at times, rich intellect. Familiar characters are introduced: Oliver (Barry Keoghan) is a shy nerd from a troubled and decidedly non-monopolized background, while the handsome golden god Felix (Jacob Elordi) is the scion of a noble family. Felix is ​​bold and charming to everyone around him, but perhaps especially to the reclusive Oliver, who steals glances at Felix but otherwise remains a distant admirer.

Until, of course, a chance encounter causes Oliver to suddenly become invested in Felix's personal attentions. Fennell dwells on the implicit queerness of this collegiate dynamic, leaving it hanging in the air as, perhaps, one of the film's big questions. One character openly states the literary allusion, but there's no need: that's all about it Saltburnat this point, is an obvious modernization of Return to BridesheadEveyln Waugh's great novel about money, desire and homoeroticism.

This aspect becomes patently clear when Oliver is invited to spend the summer in the country manor – a real castle – where Felix's family spends their days in a languid and cheerfully snobbish way, indulging in drinks and cigarettes (and no doubt other things ), while looking at Oliver with wary curiosity. The Oxford portion of the film is edgy and sad, but once Oliver arrives at the ridiculous Saltburn estate, Fennell raises the comedy level. Oliver's early days in Saltburn are a wry and increasingly sinister delight, made even funnier by his role as Rosamund PikeFelix's ice queen mother, who claims – as if it were a psychiatric fact – to have an innate repulsion for ugliness.

She is therefore happy to see that Oliver, lanky and blandly dressed, has a kind of dark beauty in his eyes. Keoghan, an Irish actor on the rise who here puts his magnetic strangeness to good use, makes us believe that these haughty sophisticates can really see in Oliver something worth finding. He certainly proves himself, rather quickly, to be a man of class. He gets along well with Felix and his sister Venetia (a 'Alison Oliver adequately fused and unstable), read books of Harry Potter and relax by the sea – even play drunken tennis in formalwear, of course – and keep Felix's grinning gay American cousin, Farleigh, at arm's length (Archie Madekewe).

Some sort of game is being staged, but Fennell is reluctant to explain what exactly it is. Felix and his group (which also includes the lord of the manor, played by Richard E. Grant, a rich idiot) are they walking Oliver into some kind of trap? It's definitely a toy to play with, but for what purpose? Gradually, however, it seems that Oliver has the upper hand, and that he is a much more skilled calculator than anyone, including us viewers, has given him credit for.

The director has fun with these wicked possibilities, letting her actors bustle and meander through crackling, intelligent dialogue. It's a pleasure to be in the company of these noxious characters, all resplendent in the film's shadowy lights and artfully composed tableaux. (The film is presented, somewhat unnecessarily, in a square format, as has become a tiring trend over the past decade.) The period setting is unnerving at first—I was afraid how many knowing winks along the lines of “remember this cultural product of the '80s?” would make us endure—but Fennell uses references sparingly.

Some old songs come out of Millennials' post-adolescence (Time to Pretend by MGMT is one of them, obviously) and we see the family watching The Ring And Superbad. Otherwise, however, Fennell doesn't force us to consider the time of the film. It is the place that interests her most, this haunting Eden where Oliver is coming into the full flower of his being, whether he is a benevolent, confident observer or a shrewd schemer.

Ultimately, however, the film's questions must be answered. And it is here, alas, that Fennell once again loses his bearings. There's a rush to explain, retroactively, everything we've just seen—pointless when the film could have simply left us stumbling back into the light of day, plagued by an ambiguous mystery. A work with a disturbing atmosphere like Saltburn he doesn't need a resolution like the one Fennell gives him, let alone a resolution that seems so obvious and convenient.

For some, this might ruin the experience Saltburn, a last bit of wrong seasoning that dirty the whole meal. In my opinion, though, there's enough to savor in the first three-quarters of the film – its slippage, its sex and its escalating terror – that all is not lost. How could it be when Pike, Keoghan, Elordi and the rest of the cast are in great command of themselves, deftly deploying grim physicality and delivering a series of biting lines? Elegant and intriguing, Saltburn proves to be an engaging work for most of its running time, and so one stumble, however large, can mostly be forgiven. If nothing else, the film leaves us curious to see what Fennell might do with another classic novel. What views could it show us, for example, from EM Forster's rooms?