I was hungover yesterday, and I found myself sitting through Wuthering Heights in it's entirety while my headache subsided. At more than a few times in the film, I wanted to punch every character in the face, and it left me with a general disdain for 19th-century Britain. However, I was reminded of my penchant for how women looked in classic cinema: ****ing gorgeous, and they could act, too.
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