‘Saltburn’ isn’t the eat-the-rich delight you should be craving

Image by: Herbert Wang

Hollywood struggles to meaningfully depict the eat the rich trope.

Entertainment of late has had a thirst for class commentary, specifically the type that has its wealthy characters humiliated or dead by the end of the story. The eat the rich trope emerged as an encouragement to criticize the wealthy and often employs imagery that alludes to literally eating the rich.

Yet, despite the situation of this thirst—or appetite—in a time where the wage gap is increasing, movies like Saltburn fall short when subjected to a social rather than aesthetic lens.

The phrase “eat the rich” originated with political philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who, during the French Revolution, asserted “when the people shall have nothing more to eat, they will eat the rich.” While Rousseau was referring to the aristocracy, his phrasing has since been adopted to reference all excess displays of wealth.

The re-emergence of the phrase is punctuated by the growing income inequality between the highest earning and the lower and working classes. It’s symbolic of a demand for the
distribution of funds, meant to address unbalanced power dynamics and hold the oppressor able.

Hollywood has attempted to fictionalize this concept on multiple occasions, with films like Knives Out, Parasite, and The Menu contributing to the narrative. All of these films have been praised for their execution, where ridiculously wealthy folk get their comeuppance at the hands of those they see as lesser than. The most recent attempt at this narrative is a current internet hot topic: Saltburn.

Written and directed by Oscar winner Emerald Fennell, Saltburn tells the story of Oxford scholarship student Oliver, his obsession with the more popular—and much wealthier—Felix, and Oliver’s attempts to acquire these sought-after assets by proxy. It’s obvious the audience is meant to sympathize with this supposed protagonist, but Fennell’s work falls short when it starts to forgive its rich characters.

Felix and his family are extravagantly wealthy, exhibiting absurd behaviours like gossip mongering and manipulation, but their behaviours are overshadowed by a sympathetic lens.

Oliver isn’t granted this reprieve: he’s revealed to be a liar and the kind of cruel typically assigned to the rich. In turn, this makes a villain out of the middle-class character instead of his upper-class counterparts, turning the story from an “eat the rich” trope to a “fear the lower classes” narrative.

Saltburn leaves its audience distracted by salacious depictions rather than contemplating its social commentary. It chooses to ride the coattails of Tumblr aesthetics and the films before it instead of delving deep into the genuine influence the rich have on the function of everyday society.

Fennell is the child of a jewelry magnate, and an Oxford alumnus herself, begging the question of whether the wealthy can write compelling class satire.

Miriam is a fifth-year English student and The Journal’s Senior Video Editor.

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