It is significant that, at this point in our cultural journey, we have become accustomed to film producers jumping on every single property as it enters public domain, so they can make a cheap and exploitative horror film about it. We have seen Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey. We’ve seen Bambi: The Reckoning.
We’ve seen the six separate horror movies (including Mouseboat Massacre and Mouse of Horrors) that are based on Steamboat Willie. This is just the world we live in now. But if you zoom out even a tiny amount, it all starts to look a little silly.
Not because it suggests the paying public has a fondness for inarguably bad horror films based on loose interpretations of recognisable figures, but because it’s missing the bigger picture. In other words, while producers are watching eagerly for the next newly out-of-copyright property to exploit (by the way, Babar the Elephant will enter the public domain in January), there is an entire ocean of public domain work just sitting there to be desecrated. In which case, you really have to applaud whoever came up with the idea of Wuthering Heights: The House of the Damned.
Available on digital platforms in three short weeks, it is a remake of Emily Brontë’s classic novel, only scarier. In the film, as far as I am able to tell, Cathy has died and her ghost starts haunting Heathcliff to the point that he starts murdering everyone. All signs point to not really, especially since the trailer contains a shot where Cathy seems to become a zombie so that she can punch through a window and strangle someone to death.
You can see what’s happening here, can’t you? Emerald Fennell made a Wuthering Heights film this year and it was wildly successful, currently the 19th biggest film of 2026. But Wuthering Heights was published 179 years ago, so anyone can do whatever they want with it.
Fennell’s film proved this all too well, with its rubbing and squishing and skin-coloured rooms. But it also means that someone else can hop on the back of it and turn it into a hammy horror about a zombie in a bridal gown. It’s not like the Brontës are around to sue, is it?
Extract — continue reading at the source.
