The release of Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of Emily Brontë’s novel brought with it more than a film: it generated a tightly choreographed public narrative about its leads. As the movie reached audiences around its theatrical release on Feb. 13, interviews and appearances focused less on plot details and more on the reported intensity between Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi. Journalists and morning shows circulated anecdotes about on-set rituals, personalized gifts, and performative intimacy that blurred lines between promotion and personal expression.
What shaped that narrative were three visible elements: the director’s intentional methods to foster chemistry, the actors’ own descriptions of becoming attached during production, and tangible tokens exchanged to mark their collaboration. These gestures—shrines in dressing rooms, accounts of codependence, and matching rings—became part of the film’s external story, influencing media coverage ahead of premieres in the weeks leading up to the release.
Intentional intimacy: how staging fostered a relationship
Emerald Fennell reportedly instituted specific practices to encourage a believable bond between Catherine and Heathcliff. On a Today show appearance, Robbie relayed that Fennell set up small altars—described as “shrines”—in each actor’s dressing room to help build a charged atmosphere. These displays reportedly included candles, photos and, as quoted, “locks of hair,” a detail that circulated widely and energized headline writers. Whether theatrical or sincere, the use of such props was framed as a deliberate production choice designed to deepen the actors’ connection and to infuse the shoot with an immersive emotional texture.
Verbal cues: confessions about dependence and attention
During press conversations, both actors described how quickly they came to monitor one another’s presence on set. Robbie said she felt “lost without him, like a kid without their blanket,” a quote that was repeated across outlets and used to illustrate how the pair internalized their characters’ entwined psychology. Elordi characterized their dynamic as a “mutual obsession,” explaining that proximity—remaining within a few metres—helped him observe small habits and sustain authenticity on camera. These admissions were presented as evidence of a method-based immersion that crossed into personal territory during the filming process.
Publicity and perception
Such candid remarks functioned as both promotion and personal revelation. By emphasizing dependence and constant attention, the actors supplied journalists with easily digestible narratives: a modern mirror of Brontë’s stormy romance, rehearsed for headlines. Reporters often relayed these stories without extensive analysis, creating a feedback loop where promotional anecdotes became the primary lens through which audiences encountered the movie prior to screenings and premieres such as those on Jan. 28 and Feb. 5.
Keepsakes and symbolism: rings, roses and curated gifts
Alongside interviews, physical tokens played a central role in the media story. Robbie reportedly brought Elordi a set of custom signet rings produced by CeCe Jewellery, designed with entwined skulls, thorn motifs and an inscription borrowing Brontë’s famous line: “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” The rings also reportedly include the dates “1847-,” linking the original novel to the film’s contemporary release. On another occasion, Elordi is said to have filled Robbie’s room with roses and a note in character as Heathcliff, plus a small tombstone prop—gifts that outlets described as romantic, theatrical, or for some, alarmingly intense.
How objects shaped the story
These exchanges offered tangible proof points that outlets could display alongside quotes, photographs and anecdote-driven coverage. Jewelry and props became shorthand for the depth of the actors’ connection, reinforcing the notion that their on-set relationship mirrored the film’s dramatic core. Whether interpreted as affectionate collaboration or as calculated publicity, the keepsakes translated private production moments into public storytelling tools.
Ultimately, the media run-up to the film’s debut focused less on adaptation choices and more on the performative elements surrounding its stars. From Fennell’s dressing-room interventions to the actors’ mutual descriptions of attachment and the symbolic gifts exchanged, the promotional narrative for the film that reached theaters on Feb. 13 emphasized emotional entanglement as much as cinematic craft. For audiences and critics, those choices provided additional context for viewing the adaptation, merging behind-the-scenes theatre with the period drama’s themes of obsessive love.