“It’s the singer, not the song.” What does that mean? Usually, I interpret it as there are plenty of ways to sing a classic song, but the important thing is to put your own spin on it. Sometimes artists can be so good at this that people think it’s an original (like Nirvana covering #Bi2 David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World”). Some versions are so transcendent in the way they interpret an artistic work that even the original writer doesn’t consider the work “theirs” anymore (like Johnny Cash covering Trent Reznor’s “Hurt”).
So what’s got me thinking about artistic interpretation and style? Recently I had the chance to catch writer-director Emerald Fennel’s class drama Saltburn (2023), a dark thriller that pulls together elements from not only The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999), but also Wuthering Heights (1847), and Greek myths like the Minotaur and Icarus. So, what did Fennel add to these tales of struggle, jealousy, and pride to make it her own? Read on, my dear Unicorns, read on.
Oh, but before I get too into the weeds here, I should go over a few important disclaimers. First and foremost, there will be SPOILERS for this 2023 film. While this review will remain in the PG-13 category, the film itself earned its R rating for disturbing themes and imagery. Consequently, I strongly advise that this content is not suitable for those who may be easily disturbed. If you suspect this might apply to you, please take a look at the (heaps of) content warnings listed here.
Finally, if this is your first time checking out a Unicorn Scale — or you’d just like a refresher on the metric — you can learn all about it here.
Saltburn follows Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan), an Oxford student in 2007 who strikes up a friendship with the rich and popular Felix (Jacob Elordi). When Oliver reports that tragedy has struck his family, Felix invites him to spend the summer at his family’s English country estate, the eponymous Saltburn. As Oliver gets to know the eccentric members of Felix’s family, his obsession with all of them grows — and he will do anything to stay in their good graces, from seduction to manipulation and even murder.
What I Liked:
It's refreshing to see in Saltburn that there are several bi characters, yet their sexuality isn't the central focus of their identity. I will get to Oliver in a moment, but I’m speaking specifically about Felix’s mother, Lady Elspeth Catton (Rosamund Pike), the lady of the estate who is gorgeous, snobby, and funny in a mean, cutting way. Then there is Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), Felix’s cousin and Oliver’s schoolmate, a sarcastic but observant character beholden to Felix’s family for funding his expensive education. Farleigh is deeply perceptive about both being a bit of an outsider as a queer person of color in the white family and is the sole person who picks up on the fact that maybe Oliver should not be easily trusted.
Regarding their queerness, both Elspeth and Farleigh’s bisexuality in some ways is mentioned so briefly it almost doesn’t register unless audience members pay close attention. Though Elspeth no longer seems to be attracted to her husband, the daffy Sir James (Richard E. Grant), she does admire Oliver’s physical beauty and seems charmed when he makes a pass at her. Though we don’t see it, Elspeth also speaks candidly about her queer past: “I was a lesbian for a while, you know. But it was all just too wet for me in the end. Men are so lovely and dry.” Farleigh’s bisexuality, however, is a bit more on display. Many people may just write off Farleigh as gay after Oliver sneaks into his bedroom to seduce and threaten him. But Farleigh was also flirting with and seducing a female partygoer at Oliver’s birthday party before he snorts a line of cocaine.
As for our main character, listen — Oliver has a lot going on with him, but there are qualities to admire in this social-ladder-climbing anti-hero. Oliver is highly intelligent, keenly observant, and ambitious, and does take pleasure in going after all of his sexual conquests throughout the film. Despite his initial claim in the film that he wasn't in love with Felix, his actions consistently suggest otherwise. Oliver often stalked and watched Felix, making out with his cast-off lovers and forever watching and admiring him. He also deliberately seduced Felix’s sister, Venetia (Alison Oliver) — which happened well before he started weaving a web of lies to keep him in Felix and Elspeth’s favor. He also makes a pass at Elspeth and seduces Farleigh to make himself even more indispensable to the inhabitants of Saltburn. I never for a second questioned his queerness as legit throughout the course of the film.
But let’s make no mistake about it: Oliver Quick is a major bi villain.
What I Didn’t Like:
In Saltburn, Oliver is obsessed not just with Felix but also with the Saltburn estate. He manipulates and harms others to gain control, willing to resort to murder to fulfill his desires, ultimately taking decades to achieve his goal. Oliver is cunning, manipulative, a con artist working the long game, a pathological liar, and (unfortunately) utilizes his queerness to seduce people. His sexuality dips into the depraved, and he desecrates things in ways I will not speak of here.
And yet.
And yet, I’m still weirdly a little on this antihero’s side? Yes, he encapsulates so many stereotypes bi culture has worked very hard to shake off. But why do we find these types of fatally ambitious characters so captivating? Because even if their greed and covetousness are ultimately heinous, there is still some truth to it. As Oliver notes in his final monologue, he wanted golden playboy Felix and stately Saltburn from the first moment he laid eyes on them. He concluded they were wasted on a class of noblesse oblige who did not truly appreciate their status, class, or privilege. There’s something about that assessment that resonates. It’s a bit like a heist film that knocks over Vegas — sure, theft is bad, but isn’t there a little bit of vicarious joy in watching someone taking the house instead of being taken by the house?
Of course, I condemn Oliver’s modes and violent ends and all that rot. But there is still a glimmer of understanding, at least where his initial feelings started, that makes me offer the character the tiniest morsel of empathy.
I know it seems quibbling, but it does bother me that, despite all the scenes of sex and seduction and obsession, Saltburn never uses the term “bi”. This is a real shame; Fennel deliberately sets the film in the 2000s, and this is when the term really started to get used more often — especially with twentysomethings like these characters. Just feels like a missed opportunity.
The Rating:
Many in the bi community might dismiss Oliver as a regression, and I understand their perspective. While there are several bi characters involved, it's not necessarily a standout portrayal of modern bi representation. However, I don't believe Oliver undermines the bi movement. Personally, I don't mind seeing a compelling bi villain now and then, especially if I can empathize with his perspective.
Fennel’s take on the story of burning down the privileged few is swimming in style and panache and shows it really can be about the singer, not the song. But Saltburn is like a queer murder ballad — slow-burning, haunting, and cautionary, but ultimately a song that will stay with you. No, it’s not great bi representation, but it certainly is darkly entertaining and even a little bit cathartic.
Comments
Facebook Comments