Narrative Insanity, Envy of ‘Saltburn’
Can Emerald Fennell’s latest film be simply characterized as either shocking or predictable? Is there really more to it than the feverish lust we gleam from the story? The latter ideation is certainly more interesting.
Still via Amazon Studios
SPOILERS AHEAD
SPOILERS AHEAD
Distraught by his classmate Oliver's unfortunate living situation, Felix, a rich student, invites him over to his estate. Soon, a series of horrifying events engulf Felix's family.
— Official Synopsis
There are very few films from 2023 that may shock you in the way Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn does. And while arguments have been made from several critics and pundits that the film operates under rudimentary concepts, I haven’t seen a narrative tackle the toxicity of lust and envy quite the same before. It’s true, though, that elements of the film are rather predictable: opting for a quirky, and subtly unnerving, journey of a character’s rise to prominence in a family that’s not their own. Quite a few film pundits and critics have denounced the originality of the screenplay and the more heavy thematic elements of despair and suicide. Yet, this rendition pleads for a different interpretation—not because of the story structure, but in that the dynamics of the characters are entirely fractured and inverted from the normative direction.
Moreover, Saltburn allows a platform for rising stars to highlight more uniquely performative roles. Barry Keoghan, Archie Madekwe, and Jacob Elordi are on an uphill climb to prominence in the business. In the last few years, Keoghan’s led an impressive filmography. From films like Banshees of Inisherin (2022), The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017), and Marvel’s Eternals (2021), he has consistently proved deserving of a spot at the table. Archie Madekwe and Jacob Elordi had a remarkable 2023, with Gran Turismo and Priscilla, respectively. Meanwhile, Alison Oliver was a pleasant surprise and a welcome addition to the cast of Saltburn. Together, their chemistry melted through the screen—complimented by the cunning presence of veteran actors in Rosamund Pike (Gone Girl) and Richard E. Grant (Can You Ever Forgive Me?).
Still via Amazon Studios
It’s 2006 and Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) attends Oxford University. Oliver is noticeably having difficulty finding a clique to associate with. He has a minor altercation with another student on campus, Farleigh Start (Archie Madekwe), whom, unbeknownst to Oliver, will become a key part in shaping his future. Michael Gavey (Ewan Mitchell) appears to be the only peer who accepts Oliver’s timid nature, though he, himself, doesn’t really fit in among the others. Gavey declares that the two of them will just have to stick together and abandon everyone else. But, the audience knows that Oliver has eyes elsewhere—and it won’t take long before Michael is pushed aside.
We learn very early on (via an ominous voiceover) that Oliver’s true fascination lies with one Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi), who just happens to be close friends with Farleigh. Oliver isn’t quite in love with Felix, but he did love him. Could it have been lust? Envy? Admiration? Catton had a way of being the center of attention in every situation; at parties, in the classroom, and even while home, Felix seemingly had everything one could ask for. His family came from wealth, and other students perceived Oliver rather impecuniously. After all, he was a scholarship recipient (equal to a poor people’s award for a vile some). Saltburn, then, seems like another attempt at an exploration of class through a generational lens. Only there’s something much more sinister at play in the narrative.
The two become undeniably close, as Felix yearns for kindness and authenticity in his personal connections. Nothing solidifies the toxic dependency of the pair more than the passing of Oliver’s father. You see, shortly before Oliver drunkenly stumbles into Felix’s dorm pronouncing the death of a loved one, he started to become wildly obsessed with the man. Oliver’s strange nature began to erode their relationship and ultimately turn Felix off to the idea of being close friends. It’ll take more that a sad story of wealth inequality to convince him that Oliver is different than the others by his side. But Oliver masterfully fuels Felix’s inherent desire for what he perceives to be a normal life.
Still via Amazon Studios
Any potential falling out they might have had in their studies that year are whisked away as Felix enraptures himself, once again, with a “commoner’s” problem; only this time it isn’t poverty that catches his attention, it’s grief. During their year together, it’s evident that the two are simply using each other for their own lack of identity—and, perhaps, moral authority. With his father’s untimely passing and an insistence that his mother is nothing more than a drug addict, Oliver has nowhere to go for the summer. A generous Felix invites his new toy—er, I mean friend—to his parent’s estate: the one, the only, Saltburn. We are introduced to the Catton’s, first his parent’s, James (Hugh Grant) and Elspeth (Rosamund Pike), and then to his sister, Venetia (Alison Oliver). This is where Fennell’s film offers a unique spin on a deeply sadistic tale of envy.
From the beginning, Fennell establishes that Oliver will be our guide through this story. And, as avid fans of cinema, it’s not entirely atypical for a narrator to be somewhat, well, untrustworthy. I’m here to tell you that you’re right: Oliver happens to be completely unreliable. The sad tales of despair were simply a hat trick he used to gain Felix’s attention. It seems that a large portion of the criticism around the film begins with this one aspect of the story. Whether it’s the predicability or a perception of inauthenticity, I find the discourse over when to use this narration style most tiring. Especially because there’s so much more to Saltburn in how exactly the dynamics shift—and the devilishly entertaining inversion of character’s relationships.
Still via Amazon Studios
Let’s start here: the only character who correctly diagnoses that Oliver isn’t entirely what he seems is Farleigh. Arguably, that comes down to the fact that Farleigh was once a stray welcomed into the sprawling estate of Saltburn, too. But before Oliver successfully rids the estate of his presence, he must first build a bridge of sympathy with the people who are blinded by his fake persona. Farleigh merely lingers in the background—watching Oliver’s every move (including that rather shocking oral sex encounter); Oliver even goes as far to shower Elspeth with biting compliments. Nothing will convince Farleigh that Oliver’s intentions are pure. Then again, Farleigh recognizes that he, too, is just using the Catton’s for a comfortable life. While he may be Oliver’s biggest barrier in wedging his way into the family, he is also the easiest to break [and seduce] as Felix has grown tiresome of Farleigh in some regards.
Venetia, however, initially appears to be a little bit more resilient to how Oliver preys on the family. Their relationship is more lustful, and it seems that she has become captivated by Felix’s new “toy.” Through her, we firmly understand that Oliver isn’t special by having been invited to stay with the family. After their initial spicy encounter, the sexual tension begins to tamper off completely. Farleigh informs Felix of the night he saw Oliver perform oral sex on his sister and the news absolutely crushes him. Now Oliver must repair the reputational damage caused from Farleigh’s distaste in him and Venetia’s clumsy sneaky link. At this point, Felix has wavered on his fondness of Oliver one too many times—only, Oliver has been able to spin the situations to his advantage every time through his own pseudo-helplessness.
What we’ve come to understand of Saltburn up to this point is that pity, and certainly lust, have been the primary devices used to plot the narrative course. From the now infamous bath drain controversy, to Felix’s voyeuristic tendencies and the family’s pitiful attempt to empathize with less fortunate people, the Catton’s find themselves in a dire situation they couldn’t have anticipated. While the audience, and Farleigh, may have concluded that Oliver wasn’t who he claimed to be, it came as a shock to Felix—as he sweetly tries to surprise Oliver by visiting his mother on his birthday before throwing a party at the estate. Only, things aren’t looking quite as accurate to the depiction Oliver established as the two drive into middle suburbia. The pair are greeted by Oliver’s parents who are very alive and well, and Felix learns that his new summer toy has a brother, too.
A moment of good faith from Felix, who has otherwise been cold and brooding, sours to a blistering hatred; the same kind of hatred that Farleigh correctly assumed the entire time. Now we have the confirmation of what we may have suspected all along: Oliver cannot be trusted. The filmic translation of the classic literary technique [in unreliability] isn’t entirely fresh, no, rather the focus lays on the capsizing of sympathy from the primary protagonist to Felix, himself. Saltburn has a way of draining the characters of any warmth (which is used as a placeholder to display humanity). Felix discusses his lack of warmth a handful of times, which is why he remains desperate in inviting strangers back to his estate to ground him in his spirituality. Unlike Oliver, he’s actively trying to change the way he lives his life for the betterment of self. All of a sudden, there’s a morality to this character that wasn’t illuminated beforehand. Both primary characters are using each other and there are little arguments to be made against that fact. But much like Felix, our warmth in Oliver evaporates and instead rests firmly with this dysfunctional family as they are each puppeteered and erased by a madman.
From a storytelling perspective, Saltburn upends the discussion of class division—which has been a pivotal subtext for recent films such as Parasite (2019) and The Menu (2022)—to a less cynical study of wealthy elites. Granted, while we may have some sympathy for Felix and Venetia, we truly feel pity for Elspeth and James; most evident in the interaction with Oliver over breakfast as Felix’s lifeless body is wheeled from the garden. Trying fiercely to ignore the fact that their son would be so lowly to stoop to potential self harm while being assisted by Oliver’s disconnected aura. James even, during the discovery of Felix’s fate in the garden, claims that his son is just too cold while trying to shift the body upright. We can’t truly empathize with them, but we can with Felix—and later Venetia.
For all of its flaws, Saltburn’s transposition of the typical narrative track should be commended. Felix and Oliver are symbiotic: from poverty, to grief, and despair, they feed on one another in an envious manner. Oliver’s intentions are never really clear outside of clawing to the top of the Saltburn food chain, but Felix’s are a little more nuanced and, frankly, fascinating. We didn’t need an third act exposition dump as to why Oliver’s deceit was justifiable. It appears we were called upon to think more carefully about our humanity and how to postulate authenticity with other people in our lives. The film’s more shocking moments remain in casual conversation online but these jaw droppers clearly weren’t the intentional purpose behind the piece. To answer the propositional nature of Saltburn laid very early on in this feature: it is, indeed, quite predictable and startling. But there’s an abundance of material to ponder. With a unique twist of perspective and notable themes such as class and self ruination, the film undoubtedly latches its claws in our thoughts well beyond the final credits.
You can watch Saltburn on Prime Video now.
