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A Murder on the Dancefloor: “Saltburn” Reviewed

8 mins read

Disclaimer: Spoilers included in review

Crazy, perverse and beautiful: the three words “Fieldston News” advisor Bob Montera ascribed to Emerald Fennell’s “Saltburn” when I mentioned I intended to review the film. Friends warned me to spare the innocence the movie might strip me of, sporting uneasy looks and suggesting I pick a more lighthearted film to critique. Even so, the madness and discomfort of Saltburn fuel the film’s literal and artistic insanity. Though “Saltburn” contains many bold cinematic and narrative choices, said choices do not sufficiently compensate for its lack of a greater purpose and overarching message. 

Therefore, I give “Saltburn” a 3.8/5.

Initially set at Oxford circa 2006, Barry Keoghan and Jacob Elordi masterfully portray classmates who develop a convoluted friendship (if even that). The two, Elordi’s “Felix Catton” and Keoghan’s “Oliver Quick,” seem to form an organic connection. When Oliver gives Felix his bike to borrow, Felix takes an interest in the kind stranger and his selfless act. Little do we know, Oliver carefully cultivated the moment to begin getting closer to Felix after hyper-fixating on him from afar. Felix’s position at the center of the Oxford social scene coupled with his mysterious persona entrances Oliver. 


Oliver soon ventures from his state of scholarly solitude and explains, dishonestly, that against odds of addiction and poverty he found his way to Oxford. This story intrigues Felix. Perhaps more than platonically attracted to the notion of Oliver and vice-versa, the pair become one another’s confidantes. When a teary-eyed Oliver announces the death of his father, also a lie as we later find out, Felix invites Oliver to spend the summer at his family’s estate.

Saltburn, a grand mansion complete with elaborate grounds and even more elaborate personalities, serves as the summer residence for the Catton family. Composed of a witty but unaffectionate father Sir James Catton (Richard E. Grant), mother Elspeth (Rosamund Pike) whose honest and comedic quips save many of the film’s scenes, the charismatic Felix and his edgy younger sister Venetia (Alison Oliver), the band of eccentric individuals all feel detached from reality. Keoghan succeeds at making Oliver’s arrival at Saltburn humanizing for each Catton.

He evidently does not hail from the same world or social circle. This becomes painfully obvious in the more awkward scenes penned into the script. For instance, Oliver sends eggs back at breakfast for their runny consistency after ordering them fried. During karaoke night, following a truly tragic “Low (feat T. Pain)” rendition, he gets tricked into stumbling over the lyrics of the Pet Shop Boys’s “Rent.” As lines like “I love you, you pay my rent” come across the karaoke screen, Oliver’s position relative to the Catton’s gets exposed. The moment gives director Fennel agency to allow things with Oliver to become twisted and go so fundamentally array that all sense of normalcy gets abandoned.

With an intense desire to control Saltburn and the people that inhabit it, Oliver pursues psycho-sexual methods to assert power over the Catton family members and the aristocracy they represent. It feels as though most of the film consists of Oliver trying to seduce Venetia, Felix or even Farleigh (Archie Madekwe): an American cousin of the Cattons, before turning their lives upside down. Oliver’s actions continually get worse and more graphic as he develops not only lust but a deep resentment for the characters that compose the Catton collective. 

When Felix, Oliver’s predominant preoccupation throughout the film, finally calls Oliver out for his insanity, this gives him the license to continue his confusing wrath. He kills Felix alongside other members of the family, only to reconcile with their deaths in odd sexual manners. True lowlights, the unconventional sex scenes that give “Saltburn” its notorious reputation simply felt unbearable to watch. While said scenes appeared needlessly graphic, Oliver’s sexual inclinations help audiences understand his psychological ones.

More technical elements of the movie like its artful cinematography served as the saving grace of “Saltburn.” The intentionality of the camerawork made this thing of perplexing genius something special. After any questionable interaction or situation, the usage of elements such as framing and tracking shots told characters’ internal, unspoken stories that were often more intriguing than the ones verbalized. For instance, Oliver is shown in his solitude from behind, backwards or upside down as a testament to the backwardness of his lonesome disposition. 

All the more, the soundtrack guided the story and gave new life to cult classic tunes like Mason and Princess Superstar’s “Perfect (Exceeder)” as well as MGMT’s “Time To Pretend.” The superior music felt akin to what would play in a coming-of-age story told on Mars and works harmoniously with the movie’s outlandish plot. 

While I felt pretty neutral about the storyline overall, I maintain qualms with the fact that Oliver’s insanity led to no avail. No fundamental issue underscored his efforts to disrupt the lives of one of England’s most elite families. Except, most understandably, his personal need to violate the boundaries of the people around him and obtain power. At best, Fennel attempts to critique English elitism culture from a “show don’t tell” approach. At worst, one could view “Saltburn” as a series of twisted sex scenes interspersed with visuals and artistry so divine they only half encourage viewers to continue watching.

Still, I cannot disavow the film’s popularity. Over the past few weeks, many teens and young adults flocked to theaters or Amazon Prime to try and understand the movie’s craze. The phenomenon of “Saltburn,” in large part attributed to the rise of the soundtrack song “Murder on the Dancefloor” across social media platforms, has made “Saltburn” the film of the moment. 

But, as moments do, I believe this one shall pass. After all, I would recommend this movie only to mature audiences. Those in it solely for Jacob Elordi may find themselves disappointed and a little uneasy, though the Elordi fanbase holds earnest intentions.


If you are interested in watching Oliver “burn [the] goddamn [Saltburn] house right down” as the voice of Sophie Ellis-Baxter details, get tickets to “Saltburn” at a theater near you!

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