Saltburn arrives as a bold, stylish entry into the line of psychological dramas that flirt with danger, wealth, and power. It leans into a baroque aesthetic that can feel theatrical and slightly camp, yet it never loses the magnetic pull of its characters or the tension that runs beneath the surface. The film works as a visual concerto, with meticulous composition and a keen eye for details that reveal character and motive. Its energy sits somewhere between an art-house sensibility and a glossy, cinematic entertainment, offering viewers both striking imagery and a story that invites close attention to the dynamics of desire, social status, and the unsettling currents that connect them.
The ensemble cast earns attention for their performances, especially the pairing of Jacob Elordi and Barry Keoghan, who dominate many scenes with a presence that is at once taut and unpredictable. Their interactions spark the film’s most charged moments, even as other performers contribute memorable notes that enrich the overall texture. From a direction and writing standpoint, the project bears the mark of a filmmaker known for provocative, boundary-pushing storytelling. While the script contains originality and a willingness to confront provocative themes, the execution sometimes struggles to sustain the same intensity over proportional stretches of the running time. The film treats themes of class, desire, and parasitism with a sharp, sometimes satirical blade, yet at times it settles for familiar lines and cues that feel predictable rather than genuinely subversive.