I've Been Brainwashed to Equate Generational Wealth with Somatic Safety

Maybe you have, too

Credit: AP / Warner Bros. Pictures / Adryan Corcione

Author’s note: This essay doesn't contain any Saltburn spoilers.

On Christmas Eve, I watched Saltburn for the first time.

If you haven't seen it, the film shows main character Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) drawn to the world of an aristocratic Oxford University classmate, Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi), who later invites him to his family's estate named Saltburn for a summer. Felix is wealthy, like extremely ultra rich wealthy. His family owns a castle, for Chrissake!

Upon arrival, Felix gives Ollie a tour of Saltburn: "Red staircase. I accidentally fingered my cousin here. Henry VII's cabinet. Ghost of granny—hi, Granny! Green room, garden, some fucking hideous Rubens, broken piano. Er, blue room; it's blue. And King's bedroom. Actually, the bed still has some of Henry VII's spunk on it. This is the long gallery. Er, dead reli, dead relis, Daddy's old teddy. Shakespear's folio... and a maze!"

As he shows off each room to Ollie, Felix carries himself in such a calm, carefree way. He's fully relaxed in a way I've never felt, that I've only witnessed from other people. I assume he's safe because he's able to be so relaxed, like he doesn't have a bill to pay or rent to worry about. I'm immediately jealous. I must want to live in a castle and therefore, generational wealth, too.