It’s 2006, and Oliver, a young man from a bleak background, befriends Felix, one of the posh popular boys at Oxford University, ingratiating himself with the family one long, hot summer. (Note: for my plot re-cap go here.)
Emerald Fennell — whose definition of subtlety is bashing us over the head with a small Le Creuset frying pan rather than one of their massive casserole pots — is back, with this tale of class war fought on both sides with the underhand tactics familiar from any never-ending war of attrition.
My favourite of her in-your-face metaphors is the three faces of Oliver we get early on, as, newly-arrived in his ancient Oxford College room (on the ground floor, of course) we see three reflections of him as he peers out into the quad, full of bright, wealthy young things with floppy hair and thin jumpers. I think Fennell must have liked it too as she repeats it later, this time at Saltburn, in a triple mirror on an ancient dressing table, all the different Olivers that have been unveiled during the movie.
Then there’s the college vending machine. Oliver (Barry Keoghan) has done everything right, put his correct money in, selected his snack and nothing comes out despite his repeated efforts at thumping the machine to get access to what should be his.
Oliver — poor, with drug addicts for parents — is initially out of his depth at Oxford, turning up on Day 1 in a shirt and tie. Still, thanks to being in the right place at the right time he finally manages to befriend the aristocratic and supremely wealthy Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi), wangling an invitation to spend the whole summer at Felix’s ancestral home, Saltburn. This may not be a horror film but the call is most definitely coming from inside the (enormous) house, as that summer sees the Catton family’s long-enduring, idyllic existence come crashing down.
So old and posh it doesn’t even need Castle, Palace or Abbey after its name, Saltburn is a perfectly proportioned edifice of wings and long galleries, and rooms named not for what you do in them but for the colour they have been painted these last 300 years. The core family are welcoming, the in-situ hangers-on more suspicious, and naturally the servants despise him on sight.
The Cattons’ home is full of their human playthings, each one part entertainment, part audience, and part project: Oliver; fellow Oxford student Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), son of the never seen sister of Sir James Catton (Richard E Grant); and Poor Dear Pamela (Carey Mulligan), hiding there to avoid her dodgy Russian boyfriend, while the Cattons manoeuvre her out to a tiny London bedsit. Allegiances bend and flex. Farleigh — posh but poor, and mixed race — hates Oliver with a passion (something else that sets him apart, the Cattons being too languorous for passion) though at one point they seem to come to an understanding; both feel they belong at Saltburn though both are there on licence.
Fennell’s sweet-natured bludgeoning with her movies’ metaphors may be because she thinks we’re too dim to get it otherwise, or perhaps she’s just being helpful, as not having to think much means we get to — if not lie back and think of feudal England — then just enjoy many daft moments and some utterly glorious ones, particularly Rosamund Pike’s fabulous turn as Lady Elspeth Catton, the rich, beautiful chatelaine of Saltburn.
Naturally the Cattons have all the best lines, as the truly posh have no need to temper their speech for anyone (except maybe Henry VIII and that was years ago), with self awareness presumably being seen as non-u. “I never know our footmen’s names! The turnover of footmen is notoriously high!” pouts Felix when Farleigh points it out, the footmen being the only other non-white people in the house. However even Felix can’t top his mother, an ex-model who partied with the Britpop crowd, telling Oliver “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.”
Once the family begins to collapse, the impressive Madekwe stands out. His face looks more childlike as Farleigh’s already precarious position becomes untenable; we start to understand that the root of Farleigh’s desperation is different to Oliver’s, because where Oliver resents and hates the Cattons, Farleigh resents and loves them.
While Keoghan is way too old to play a teen undergrad I shall forgive him looking his actual age (31) as it makes him even more spine-itchingly creepy, though we root for him as the Cattons are worse, and filthy rich. Oliver lacks not just money and breeding though, but also charisma. He’s compelling but also repellant, and it is impossible to work out why Elspeth likes him so much.
Felix sees him as an object, but Felix himself is a template, a friendly shell adored by all, so much so his was the only name I constantly had to remind myself of while writing this review. His sister Venetia (Alison Oliver) is cannier — even posh women have to be — and understands her brother, and the allure of their home. She twists the knife in Oliver: “I think I like you even more than last year’s one”, but she is too damaged to really fight back against him.
Still, among the two-dimensional bitching (are they like that because of bad writing or because the properly rich don’t need to develop depth?) there are moments of pathos. Lunch directly after a body has been discovered, as the family takes refuge in status and tradition purely to make it through that first, awful day, is both gutting to watch and entirely believable.
Saltburn is slightly too long (even funny posh people become bores after a while). And despite the shocks and sharp performances, Fennell’s in-your-face directing means this long languid summer seems more like a creche for overgrown babies; when death finally starts to stalk Saltburn it’s not a moment too soon. (It’s not a spoiler to say none of the nice people die, as there aren’t any.)
Read my article Class and the ending of Saltburn here (includes plot re-cap)
Watch the Saltburn trailer now: