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The first time I heard Charli XCX and John Cale’s collaboration, I felt its tension in my chest. The track is all creeping strings and a mounting, claustrophobic finish. So seeing Emerald Fennell choose that song to open her new take on Wuthering Heights felt promising — and then oddly off.
Why the record felt made for this story
The original version of “House” is built to unsettle. Sparse strings give way to a layered surge. The lyric “I think I’m gonna die in this house” sits like a warning.
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Musically, the song leans into confinement. Its production pulls listeners inward, not outward. That inwardness is why it seemed so well-suited to a reworking of Emily Brontë’s novel.
What happens in the film’s opening
Fennell uses the track in the movie’s first minutes. Young Cathy and Nelly attend a chaotic hanging. They then race across the moors toward Wuthering Heights.
As the camera reveals the house, Anthony Willis’s extra orchestrations bloom. The song bows out as the estate appears, leaving a striking frame: a shadowed house clinging to stone.
Why the choice feels mismatched
The problem isn’t the song. The performance for the film is powerful. The issue is the juxtaposition.
- The song’s claustrophobic tone clashes with images of open landscape.
- Its introspective lyricism doesn’t align with a boisterous crowd scene.
- The emotional peak is used as sensory overload, not as character revelation.
Because of that, the central refrain loses some sting. The line about dying “in this house” reads as a psychic claustrophobia. When it scores a moment of youthful freedom, the meaning blunts.
Moments in the story that would suit the song better
The novel’s shape gives Fennell other chances to harness a track like “House”. A few spots that might have amplified the song:
- Cathy alone at Wuthering Heights, watching her family fade.
- Her arrival at Thrushcross Grange, where comfort feels like a gilded cage.
- Late-night interior scenes that linger on wallpaper, silence, and small betrayals.
Placed during confinement or quiet dread, the song’s lines could land as psychological insight. In a room shot tight or a POV that breathes with fear, the music would feel earned.
How the film version differs musically
Anthony Willis’s added layers expand the track. Orchestral swells push the song toward cinema scale.
That makes sense for a movie score. But expansion does not always equal fit. A bigger sound can dilute intimacy. In this case, it risks turning a claustrophobic whisper into a grand gesture.
TikTok gave the song a new life
Meanwhile, online users have repurposed “House” as a meme tool. Short clips now pair the song with moments of despair, comically eerie visuals, or unsettling micro-stories.
These snippets often do what the film did not: they isolate the song’s emotional bite and let it do the work. The result is a spread of short videos that mine the track’s unsettling energy.
On soundtrack decisions and emotional payoff
Soundtrack placement can rewrite a song’s meaning. Choosing where a song appears is as much an editorial move as any camera cut.
When a piece of music contradicts the image, the viewer recalibrates. The lyric that once felt like a confession can become background noise.
