“....Abismos de Pasion, Buñuel's purest and, in spite of destructively indifferent acting, most successful exposition of ‘l'amour fou'. Wuthering Heights is the novel of a feverishly tortured imagination, and it can't be done by having Cathy tripping about on a photogenically wild moor while Heathcliff glowers suddenly through knitted eyebrows. It needs a touch of the inferno, which is precisely what Buñuel gives it with his petrified landscape of baked earth and blackened trees; and his action gives the lie to Marvell's famous couplet, ‘The grave's a fine and private place/But none I think do there embrace.'.... The smell of death literally hovers over the whole of the film.... ‘L'amour fou' in its uncompromising self-absorption--and it is cruelty which dominates this dead landscape: the butterflies pinned alive to Eduardo's drawing board, the insects crushed underfoot; the fly casually tossed to a spider; the live toad thrown into a cauldron as an incantation. ‘Buñuel's bestiary,' someone has written, and there is something fitting about this description of a film which is lovingly underlined by billows of the deceptively tender Wagner on the soundtrack.” Tom Milne (Sight and Sound, Autumn 1967)