If Saltburn was a person, he would be that hipster kid with main character energy. The unchallenged confidence and colorful charisma make for a staggering first impression but behind the initial charm exists a desperation to be seen as cool. Following her directorial debut Promising Young Woman, filmmaker Emerald Fennell crafts a slightly edgy film about loud luxury that skews favorably toward Gen Z. Saltburn offers a fun enough viewing experience but I’m not sure it’s sticky enough to stay in the public consciousness for long.

Much like a modern-day adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley for the streaming generation, Saltburn tells the rags-to-riches story of college student Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan). Entering his first year at Oxford University, Oliver struggles to fit in with his high-society peers. A chance encounter with the (objectively) gorgeous aristocrat Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi) brings Oliver into a world that, up until then, had been far from within his reach. As summer break approaches, Felix invites Oliver to spend the next few months with him at Saltburn, the grand English manor that has been in the Catton family for generations. Given Oliver’s dysfunctional family dynamic and subsequent vow that he would never step foot in his childhood home again, he graciously accepts Felix’s invitation.

Upon arriving at Saltburn, there is a period of adjustment for Oliver who is not used to wearing full black tie attire to dinner and having waitstaff at every beck and call, but it only takes a couple of days to adapt to the Catton’s laissez-faire lifestyle. It’s not long before he too is peacocking as an heir to the Saltburn estate, much to the delight of Felix’s delusional parents Sir James (Richard E. Grant) and Elspeth (Rosamund Pike). Oliver is becoming obsessed with his newly adopted association with wealth, power, and–more disturbingly–Felix.

There’s a saying that goes, “Eat the rich”, but in this case, it’s more like “Drink the rich’s bath water.” As Oliver continues to lose himself in Saltburn, the darker and more voyeuristic his actions become. It’s apparent that Oliver is in love, but with who–or what–is the burning question. From here, the film explodes into a dizzying array of power games, privilege, seduction, and madness.

Despite the abundance of riches that purposefully bloat the film, there is a superficiality that lingers throughout Saltburn as if the whole thing is playing too safe. It’s provocative enough at times to garner gasps from the audience (and is definitely not a kid’s movie by any means) but it seems to stay too comfortable on the surface rather than digging deeper and exploring more complex depths of the narrative. Working with what they have on the page, the performances are deliciously satisfying. Barry Keoghan is by far the scene stealer and brings an undeniable electricity to the role of Oliver. Watching his career trajectory from co-starring in The Killing of a Sacred Deer and American Animals to headlining major studio films like The Banshees of Inisherin and Saltburn has been so rewarding to experience. Visually, every frame looks like a glossy pop-magazine come to life. Shot in stunning detail by Damian Chazelle’s go-to cinematographer Linus Sandgren, Saltburn‘s richly crafted aesthetic plays in perfect unison with the onscreen shenanigans.

Emerald Fennell’s sophomore feature is a time capsule of mid-2000s glamour and full of sweaty, horny college students. The nostalgia is nice but not substantial enough to carry the film on its own. There is a line early on in the film when Oliver engages in a debate with his professor and fellow classmate about style vs substance, arguing “It’s not what you say but how you say it.” Unfortunately, Fennell follows Oliver’s methodology, Saltburn is all style and limited substance.