“People get lost in Saltburn.” A creepy butler delivers this warning in Emerald Fennell’s new movie, Saltburn, which takes place at a stupidly large British country estate called Saltburn. It’s not unwarranted, as it does seem easy to get lost in the ancestral home, both literally and metaphorically.
I wish someone had given me that warning.
I’ve been seeing a lot of tweets about the film, which isn’t surprising, as several of its scenes appear designed to foment online discourse: the cunnilingus during menstruation, the humping of a grave, the drinking of cum-filled bathwater (now available as a scented candle!). But many of these commentators seem to be stuck on something I’ve also been ruminating over: the film’s timeline.
Saltburn is by all accounts set in 2006 — an era many millennials remember well — but several red flags suggest otherwise.
The first comes early on, when Oliver (Barry Keoghan) rolls his suitcase up to the gates of Oxford. A “Welcome Class of 2006” banner ostentatiously presides over his arrival, which naturally trips up us Americans: If he’s in the class of 2006, wouldn’t he be matriculating in the year 2002? But good ol’ Olly is attending school in England, a place I’ve never been to but understand is much like America, only less emotional, more traditional, and occasionally very silly. And in England, since your college education can last either three or four years depending on what you study, “class of 2006” means “you started studying in 2006,” and will likely graduate in either 2009 or 2010.
So it is indeed the fall of 2006 when Oliver first glimpses Felix (Jacob Elordi), and the summer of 2007 when he shows up at Felix’s family estate. But that’s not the only issue.
Though the soundtrack bottles the right vibe — you know, that fever dream of ironic detachment that powered 2005-2015 — it doesn’t quite harmonize with the timeline. There’s no way anyone could’ve flipped on Flo Rida’s “Low” at karaoke in the summer of 2007, as the song didn’t debut until October 2007. And given that MGMT’s “Time to Pretend” was released in March 2008, it couldn’t have soundtracked Felix & Co.’s long days of summer leisure. (Sure, an earlier version was released on their 2005 EP, but it’s the later one that appears on the official Saltburn playlist.) Then there’s the matter of Superbad, which the Saltburn crew watches at home. The film hit UK theaters in September 2007, so it wouldn’t have been available on DVD for many months after that.
Okay, Chloe, you say, technically you’re right, but only by a matter of months! Does it really matter?
In the scheme of things, these errors are minor. But then why have a bunch of people on the internet become so hung up on them?
Saltburn is a movie that, at every turn, invites intellectual engagement only to stare back blankly at those foolish enough to take it up on its offer.
Saltburn is a movie that, at every turn, invites intellectual engagement only to stare back blankly at those foolish enough to take it up on its offer. It pastes together signifiers of artfully made films — a 4:3 aspect ratio, pretty cinematography, deeply deranged characters — but in its race to tick off prestige bonafides, it leaves the center of its maze empty. The result is a film that’s nice to look at but entirely incapable of self-reflection, dragged down by deeply muddled class politics and a wholesale lack of critical thinking.
When faced with Saltburn, the mind reaches for something to latch onto, but finds only the smoothest of surfaces and fails to get a foothold. It’s maddening! Viewers have no choice but to redirect their efforts into parsing the differences between the versions of “Time to Pretend” released on the EP and the later album. I don’t really care when “Low” was released! And yet here I am, going full Weird Little Guy, trying to figure out how long it would have taken a 2007 theatrical film to become available on DVD.
I am lost in Saltburn. I am become Oliver. Better empty your bathwater.
