Farleigh’s place: Wealth, Privilege and Whiteness
How far would you go to ‘fit-in’? How the only Black character in Saltburn makes us consider the intersections of power, privilege, race and belonging.
Drayton House, where Saltburn was filmed - photo by John Sutton
Put aside Barry Keoghan’s iconic naked scene; Jacob Elordi’s elusive, beautiful, and charming looks; and Sophie-Ellis Bextor’s catchy noughties tune. What are we left with? Now that the TikTok hype seems to be dying down, a delve into a crucial element of Emerald Fennell’s psychosexual masterpiece seems appropriate. Much like when Shonda Rhimes included Black gentlefolk in ‘Bridgerton’, I was curious to track how ‘race’ ‘fitted-in’ to this quintessentially British thriller.
Emerald Fennell’s ‘Saltburn’ is two hours of delicious directorial choices, dark humour, and cinematographic brilliance. Initially set at Oxford University (GDBO!), the film follows Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan), a markedly working-class student - though there are subtle indications and an awkward trip to Prescot that reveal this to be a fabricated lie - as he befriends the popular and perfect Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi). Utterly taken by his charisma, Oliver dutifully accepts Felix’s offer to spend the summer at the Catton family’s wealthy estate - the film’s namesake - Saltburn.
Once at the English countryside manor, Oliver is drawn into the world of aristocracy, and we see just how far our unreliable narrator will go to craftily execute his manipulative plan: to be accepted by the Cattons and ultimately inherit Saltburn. Crafted as the symbolic embodiment of Oliver’s desires, Fennell’s direction of the Cattons is simply stunning. From the voyeuristic scene when the family first meet Oliver to the dry humour that spews from Rosamund Pike’s character, Elspeth Catton. They demonstrate both a blissful ignorance and a beguiling endearment which entraps all who enter Saltburn, rendering them powerless.
“Even in a room of blood relatives, Farleigh is on his own, he is disposable and disarmed by the power of the Catton family.”
Where people judged the film as outlandish, I would argue that Fennell indulges us with disconcerting similarities that are stretched just marginally beyond our reality, so they remain recognisable enough to acknowledge. For instance, it’s clear that Fennell makes some social comment on class but, perhaps more refined, are her questions of ‘belonging’ and ‘obsession’. Further, in true allegorical 19th ‘century-esque’ literary style, she forces the audience to consider just how far they’d go to ‘fit-in’. Perhaps an ode to the Black British aristocracy, like Emma Clare Thynn, Marchioness of Bath, Saltburn explores the ‘belonging’ of two Black characters: the cameo role of Lady Daphne (Lolly Adefope) – an aristocrat in an unhappy relationship which she willingly withstands because of the title - and the main role of Felix’s initially ostentatious cousin, Farleigh (Archie Madekwe). We first meet Farleigh in a tutorial with Oliver at Oxford. Acting more prestigious than he is, he saunters in late and precedes to have a conversation with the supervisor about his mother - who also went to Oxford - to excuse the fact that he hasn’t completed the summer reading. The scene was a stark reference to the nepotism that tends to lurk at elitist institutions.
Alas, at Saltburn, this bravado falls. It is implied that the Catton family have severed ties with Farleigh’s mother, making her existence anonymous. She is minimised to merely a proximal connection of James Catton. Thus, in the Cattons’ world, Farleigh’s status as a black, queer, working-class person places him as one of their additional ‘playthings’ alongside the peculiar Pamela (Carey Mulligan); as Madekwe affirmed in a recent interview: “One, he’s not English. Two, he’s the only person of colour. Three, he’s queer. Four, he’s not wealthy”. This is not his world. They constantly reprimand him for his mooching behaviour, and at one point, Felix even makes him beg for money. At their worst, they oust Farleigh from Saltburn on the word of Oliver. The stereotypical black involvement with drugs is alluded to as Oliver hints that Farleigh is responsible for Felix’s death. This, as the audience is aware, is not true. Farleigh’s cruel farewell therefore really twists the knife in the wound; the demise of the black antagonist speaks to the implicit racial bias that I foresaw throughout the film. Even in a room of blood relatives, Farleigh is on his own, he is disposable and disarmed by the power of the Catton family.
“The ending is an uncanny injustice. Oliver inheriting it all has our backs up against the wall.”
Throughout the film, there are interesting subtleties that indicate Farleigh’s final exclusion. Rewatching it, I came to realise how crucial his character is as a vehicle to consider race and identity in direct (and twisted) comparison with Oliver. With an obsession for acceptance, though granted, on a lesser scale to our protagonist, Farleigh is Oliver’s foil. What therefore ensues is a cat-and-mouse game between them that feeds into a yearning for belonging. As Farleigh flashes his signet ring in Oliver’s face and snidely remarks, “You’re almost passing,” we are aware that Farleigh can see through Oliver’s deception. But it's not enough. In that same utterance, Farleigh’s hamartia is shown. His worth is based upon an attempt to conform to the Catton family standard - so blatantly white, luxurious, and privileged. His false sense of belonging leads to his demise because the harsh reality is that his skin colour and social mobility stand out to his detriment.
As a black girl who went to an independent school in North Devon, an area where only 0.3% of people identify as black, ideas of identity and conformity have always circulated in my mind. Attending Cambridge is no different either. With just 16 Black Caribbean students being admitted in my matriculation year, it has always been instilled in me to be ‘unapologetically myself’ and never try to appease the white majority - as such, I’ve always been proud of my black identity. But, from experience, I recognise the challenges of navigating such a hybridity. When you’re the only black person in a white space, that steely self-assurance can sometimes go missing or never materialise at all. It’s this, returning to the film, that Oliver capitalises on. His silent ascent to inheriting Saltburn is an exploitation of Farleigh’s vulnerability. In their woven similarities, we see that there cannot be a co-existence or comradery between our two potential anti-heroes, only an evil pursuit of power and greed where somebody must lose.
The ending is an uncanny injustice. Oliver inheriting it all has our backs up against the wall. We see it coming, but it’s disquieting, nonetheless. Just like that, the Catton family is no more. Farleigh, the only other potential beneficiary, is swept under the rug reminding us of society’s power hierarchies. A product of the melange of implicit racial bias and the secrecy of the aristocracy, his subsequent demise can be seen as Fennell’s lesson to us all on navigating wealth, privilege, and whiteness.