Despite being one of the most iconic novels of all time and a symbol of American literary excellence, “The Catcher in the Rye” has never been adapted for the big screen. Author J.D. Salinger famously denied stage and film rights to even directors as esteemed as Steven Spielberg, Elia Kazan and Billy Wilder.
He explained this decision in a letter, writing of protagonist Holden Caulfield, “The weight of the book is in the narrator’s voice … He can’t legitimately be separated from his own first-person technique. True, if the separation is forcibly made, there is enough material left over for something called an Exciting (or maybe just Interesting) Evening in the Theater. But I find that idea if not odious, at least odious enough to keep me from selling the rights.”
When I first read “The Catcher in the Rye” in middle school, it ignited my passion for classic literature. I was immediately captivated by the novel’s reliance on Holden’s internal monologue and his complexities as an unreliable narrator. Experiencing Holden’s raw, unfiltered thoughts, moral ambiguity and deep loneliness left a lasting impression on me and made me feel seen as I, too, struggled with the notion that I was growing up.
I initially felt disappointed when I realized there wasn’t a movie adaptation of the novel that I resonated with so profoundly. I wanted to see Holden brought to life on screen, but now I’m grateful that Salinger’s wishes have been respected. Hollywood has a disappointing tendency to not only misinterpret classic novels’ storytelling but also strip the distinctive qualities found in literature.
For instance, the internet cringed in September 2024 when the casting was announced for the latest adaptation of Emily Brontë’s gothic novel “Wuthering Heights.”
“Wuthering Heights” largely centers around Heathcliff, Catherine and their toxic relationship, as well as Heathcliff’s attempted destruction of the prestigious Linton family that they marry into. Additionally, the novel explores themes such as social class and revenge in the West Yorkshire Moors circa the late 1700s to early 1800s.
The movie, set to premiere in 2026, will be directed by Emerald Fennel of “Promising Young Woman” and “Saltburn” and star Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff — both of which are bizarre casting choices. While I may be judging the movie before even watching it, as a lover of the book, there is no world where I can see myself embracing a white Heathcliff who is younger than Catherine.
Although Heathcliff has frequently been portrayed by white male actors in film adaptations — barring a 2011 version — it’s surprising that, in 2025, a director would still overlook the novel’s clear emphasis on his racial ambiguity and outsider status. I typically do not mind “race-blind” casting, but in the case of “Wuthering Heights,” Heathcliff’s racial othering serves as a key motivator behind his rage and bitterness toward the “fair,” “light-haired” and “civilized” Englishness of the Lintons, and it defines significant parts of his character development.
Heathcliff’s racial and ethnic identity has long been a subject of scholarly debate. Some interpretations suggest that Brontë subtly implies he is of Black African descent, describing him as a “black villain,” but this may simply be a reference to the black hair and eyes he is frequently described as having. Others argue he may be of Indian or Southeast Asian origin since he is described as a “little Lascar,” and at one point, Ellen, a housekeeper, jokes that Heathcliff’s father was an “Emperor of China” and his mother was an “Indian queen.”
Heathcliff is most frequently referred to as a “gipsy,” which strongly implies that he is meant to be of Romani descent and, in my opinion, makes the most sense given the period, political climate and setting.
However, regardless of what Brontë specifically intended for Heathcliff’s race to be, the choice to cast Elordi, a conventionally attractive white actor, strips away the character’s identity as an “Other” in the English aristocracy. The Lintons contrast Heathcliff with their whiteness, privilege and embodiment of social hierarchy, and these visible differences fuel Heathcliff’s resentment and desires — these workings allow the novel to become not just a symbol but race itself.
Similarly, the casting of Robbie also feels like a mistake. Catherine is supposed to be around 18 or 19 when she dies, while Robbie is 34. Having Catherine portrayed by a grown woman takes away from her character in that her tragic arc relies on her being too young to fully understand the consequences of her actions; Catherine’s character is shaped by the impulsive and self-destructive choices she makes largely because she is juvenile and naive.
These constant remakes are not just inaccurate but are also beginning to feel tired and repetitive. Yet another adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” is reportedly in the works, alongside a new version of “Frankenstein” also starring Elordi. The growing overlap in casting across these period pieces and reboots is simply boring.
It feels as if the movie industry is recycling the same stories and faces. There seems to be an element of comfort in returning to stories they know people already like and actors that are already well-established rather than discovering new talent that may be better suited for the role. This constant return to familiarity reflects a larger issue: a reluctance to take creative risks for that odious “Evening in the Theater.”
When it comes to novels, let me be clear — I’m not someone who believes the book is always better than the movie. In fact, I think some stories lend themselves more to the big screen. However, when it comes to classic literature, Hollywood tends to oversimplify or misrepresent what makes these stories powerful in the first place.
These days, some books are written with the goal of going viral and landing a movie deal. In contrast, much of classic literature was created long before film existed, and sometimes the techniques, themes and narration do not make sense adapted to the technological medium.
Even when it comes to literature made in a post-film-breakthrough world, not every story needs to become a movie. As stated, a novel like “The Catcher in the Rye” depends heavily on the protagonist’s internal monologue and, therefore, does not easily translate to the screen. On the other hand, stories that rely on rich world-building and vivid imagery may be better suited for adaptation.
If a filmmaker is going to adapt a novel for the big screen, especially one that has been adapted before, they should do their best to truly honor the story and the author’s intent while also giving us something new to chew on, such as the breakout of an undiscovered actor. If they are not willing to do so, they should just write something original — we do not need a new “Wuthering Heights” every 20 years.
Jordan Ori is a junior majoring in English and is a Pipe Dream Opinions intern.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.