Saltburn: Sympathy For The Devil

The Rise and Triumph of the Anti-Hero in Modern Cinema

The phenomenon of the cinematic anti-hero has been steadily rising since the 1970s, when Stanley Kubrick first presented audiences with the most unlikely of anti-heroes: a self-admitted teenage psychopath by the name of Alex who reveled in his tales of ultra-violence and attempted to outsmart authorities in the 1971 classic A Clockwork Orange.

More recent examples include Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, Dan Gilroy’s Nightcrawler, Todd Phillips’s Joker, and Todd Field’s Tár — arguably one of the only films in recent memory that has given us a memorable female anti-hero.

However, Emerald Fennell’s 2023 Saltburn takes the myth of the cinematic anti-hero a step further.

Warning: Spoilers Ahead!

While many stories of anti-heroes have been told so far, very few of them see the anti-hero succeeding in his evil deeds. Normally, the anti-hero is either stopped in his tracks, or, if he somehow manages to obtain his end goals, his victory is often a bittersweet half-victory. One only has to think of Woody Allen’s 2005 Match Point, where the nearly psychopathic protagonist does succeed in securing wealth and social status, but in the very closing shot, we get a glimpse at what the rest of his existence is going to entail: loneliness, misery, and regret.

Similarly, in the most recent Joker (2019), Joaquin Phoenix’s Arthur does succeed in kindling a social revolution, but, in order for that to happen, first he has to lose everything he holds dear: his job, his mental health, his hopes for a happy and healthy future, and his mother.

Meanwhile, Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, which is arguably a strong influence on Saltburn, differs from the book precisely in that, at the end of the story, Tom is finally caught: just when he thinks that he has finally succeeded in his elaborate scheme, he is recognized as Dickie Greenleaf on a boat to Greece, which ruins his previously well-executed masquerade and forces him to kill his beloved lover Peter. In the final shot of the film, Tom is sitting alone in his cabin, ruminating over what he has done and waiting for the inevitable end.

This ending differs from the book’s, in which Tom makes it to Greece, alone, and is surprisingly delighted to discover that the police officers that he thought were going to arrest him pay no attention to him whatsoever.

A notable exception is the 2014 Nightcrawler, in which Jake Gyllenhaal’s Lou not only avoids prison but also succeeds in promoting and expanding his own business, thus achieving his original goal.

It seems as if our culture’s inherently puritanical nature might have prevented previous writers from fully exploring the anti-hero and awarding them triumph in their enterprises because of fear of public moral backlash. But Saltburn finally succeeds in unapologetically showing the anti-hero triumphing in his schemes and ambitions: Barry Keoghan’s Oliver wipes away Felix’s entire family and takes their place in their mansion. His triumph is cemented in the memorable final scene, in which he dances around the house naked to the tune of Murder on the Dancefloor, while the marionette display of the Family lies on the living room table, reminding us of Oliver’s masterful puppeteering work in manipulating the family members to obtain what he wanted.

It is also a class revenge story, not because Oliver is from a working-class background, like he pretends to be, but because he is simply from a lower-class background, and aspires to that unnecessary, luscious, extravagant wealth that Felix’s Family possesses. Indeed, as is the case for The Talented Mr. Ripley, what draws us to Oliver is the fact that we sympathize with him, at least initially. Both Tom and Oliver are not just anti-heroes, they are sympathetic anti-heroes. And what makes us sympathize with them is not just the fact that they seem likable and relatable, but also — and most importantly — the fact that their story is a Robin Hood-reminiscent class revenge story.

Both films start with a seemingly smart, talented, and earnest individual from an impoverished background who’s trying to “make it” in the real world through hard work while acting on their own, without any sort of support. Both films then set up a stark contrast between our “working-class Hero” and elites belonging to the upper-middle class, making sure to stress how shallow and ungrateful these privileged individuals are in comparison to our humble and hardworking Hero. The more we witness the extravagant luxury that the obnoxious elites wallow in, the more we root for our Hero.

But then the story takes a dark twist, showing us that our Hero is, indeed, ready to do whatever it takes to succeed. And while it is still possible to sympathize with Tom Ripley, Saltburn adds an even darker twist to the story by revealing that Oliver was never a working-class Hero to begin with. In fact, he is from a comfortable British middle-class background. He simply wanted more. He wanted what Felix had.

Oliver is more scheming and more ruthless than Tom, and, in the end, all his hard work is rewarded. Therefore, Emerald Fennell presents us with the compelling story of the anti-hero’s unapologetic triumph, where, in a world that is ruled by ruthlessness, his own ruthlessness is not punished, but rewarded.

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