The Inherent Conservatism of "Saltburn"

Emerald Fennell's commentary on elitism is ultimately a defense of it

WARNING: This review contains spoilers.

Never before has a film been so meticulously calculated to depend on provocation. Saltburn secures its success by amplifying its perversity so fans of the film feel subversive in their appreciation of it, convinced they are offending the sensibilities of the elite by the joy they have reaped by viewing the film. Saltburn is reverse-engineered to primarily shock and goad the audience, and then to mask this physical stimulation as intellectual. But unless you submit yourself entirely to the opulence and odiousness of Saltburn, if you probe the film for worthy concepts, the conceit will crumble in your fingers.

The film follows Oliver (Barry Keoghan), a scholarship student at Oxford, who struggles to acculturate into the environment of elite boarding school kids. Oliver certainly has the intellect for Oxford, but his apparent lower-class background has not equipped him with the cultural capital necessary to be relevant to the other students. After a coincidental meeting with Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi), the ringleader of a wealthy social circle, Oliver finds himself among the opulent British elite, eventually securing an invite to Felix’s estate, Saltburn, for the summer. 

As the holiday unfolds, Oliver becomes obsessed with the eccentric members of Felix’s family, and his behavior becomes increasingly unsettling. In the first act, Oliver’s outcast status at the estate illuminates the bumbling absurdity of the ultrawealthy, but as his character devolves, he becomes the primary source of discomfort, provocation, and depravity. 

Saltburn props itself up entirely on calculated controversy, because in this age of the internet, the relevance of movies depends on their capacity to spur online discourse. Director Emerald Fennell utilizes every trick in the book — dialogue straight from Wattpad, surprisingly sanitized sexual deviancy, cinematography formulated for Pinterest, and a pseudo-Hitchcockian twist that flaunts its own supposed intellect. None of these factors are designed to make people think — they are designed to make people talk. 

Because Saltburn is formulated in this manner, it relies on cliches of contemporary aesthetics to captivate a young audience. The film does a good job of convincing you that it is technically beautiful, but it refuses to recognize that there is more to cinematic beauty than simply looking pretty. Visual media has a purpose to its presentation, but Saltburn’s cinematography looks as if it was pulled straight from a Vogue cover shoot. Each shot is a 4-by-3 box of beautiful people, drenched in a warm color grade and draped effortlessly over lavish set pieces, supplemented with aughts nostalgia. If these visuals were meant as a parody of overdone arthouse style, they might have some merit, but Saltburn is sickeningly sincere. 

The vacuous visuals point to the broader faults of Saltburn, which stem from Fennell prioritizing her film’s construction at the expense of making contemplative art. Her only other feature, Promising Young Woman, falls into the same trap. Fennell wants to make something subversive but does not care to put in the effort to make something thoughtful, and in feigning transgression she unintentionally creates something reactionary. 

The film attempts to consolidate a variety of social dynamics and inequities into one ill-conceived and derivative metaphor, flattening the nuances of these respective issues rather than recognizing their relation to each other. However, the aesthetics and action of Saltburn desperately try to convince the viewer of the film’s insurgence, as if its vile unpalatability is revolting against the sensibilities of the pearl-clutching elite. But it is impossible to read any semblance of social commentary that is even remotely progressive in Saltburn’s themes. 

While Saltburn mocks the absurdity of an insular socioeconomic elite, its criticism is entirely relegated to debasing their mannerisms. Their crimes are those of excess and ignorance, but nothing more. In Fennell’s eyes, true depravity comes from Oliver’s attempted upward mobility, as his desire for wealth is what drives his perversion, even going so far as to fabricate a pitiful backstory to slip past the gatekeepers of generational wealth. 

Saltburn posits that proximity to wealth invites the destructive tendencies of the lower class. “While Saltburn acknowledges [wealthy] tribalism, it doesn’t interrogate it. If anything, given the ending, it’s presented as sensible — a way for aristocrats to protect themselves against dangerous interlopers,” writes K.J. Yossman, a contemporary of Emerald Fennell at Oxford. The film may mock the behavior of the wealthy, but ultimately it argues in favor of the structures that maintain the insular elite.

The abysmal fanfare for Saltburn, a film manufactured for controversy while insidiously endorsing the parameters of the status quo, is worthy for contempt. The film signals the death of the “eat-the-rich” satirical thriller, churned through a mill of cliche that slowly turns a compelling modern micro-genre into dust.

OVERALL SCORE: 3/10

Saltburn was released on November 17, 2023 and is currently in US theaters and is streaming on Amazon Prime Video.