[This review was originally posted on Letterboxd.]
“The light is mine.”
Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe), an old lighthouse keeper entitled enough to withhold his experience at sea from his protégé, Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson), makes known that one characterizing stipulation.
When Wake and Winslow arrive on an island whose only pre-existing life is several seagulls, they are hopeful that their time tending the island and its age-old beacon into the sea will be quick, painless. (“God who hears the surges roll, deign to save the suppliant soul. To four weeks.”) As this nearly two-hour film progresses, viewers will find that neither of these hopes come true.
Wake seems more in-tune with traditions of the sea—however superstitious they may seem to Winslow. Early on, when Winslow is still far more naïve, he scuffles with a one-eyed seagull (perhaps Wake’s old crew-mate—reincarnate?). Wake responds in rebuke: “Bad luck to kill a sea bird.”
The minimalism of The Lighthouse—only two main characters and one filming location—might have challenged Robert Eggers’ proficiency in directing, but he fielded it perfectly. Even more so, his insistent use of the 1.19.:1 aspect ratio (almost a perfect square, which would be 1:1) was evidence of his ability to make a new film look already etched in time as a classic.
Ephraim Winslow learns quickly that he shouldn't lie to his mentor. When he failed at one of his first duties, mopping the floor, his superior barked at him: “You lying dog! How dare you contradict me, you dog!” While the dialogue of this film has heavy influence from 1890's jargon as well as “sailor-talk,” this specific quote holds significance in foreshadowing an odd plot point later in the film.
Though Winslow perceived it impossible at first, he began connecting with Wake—albeit through morally questionable means. Consecutive nights passing the bottle make way for an odd chemistry between the two sea-men, one that perhaps would seal their detriment in the future.
In one of these rum-drenched conversations, Winslow asks, perhaps out of fear or curiosity or dread, “what made your last keeper leave?” Wake responds with another foretelling answer: “Aye, went mad, he did. Raving about sirens, merfolk, bad omens and the like... He believed that there was some enchantment in the light.” Still disbelieving—though he would soon learn of them all—Winslow rebuts, “Tall tales.”
The Lighthouse’s script and story echo subtle inspiration of Herman Melville, Edgar Allen Poe, tall tales of the sea, and Greek Mythology. Concerning cinematography, there are few other films to achieve beauty in the way it did. The black-and-white duality of every scene alludes to the duality of characters portrayed. One of the final scenes—Winslow and the light—depicts this duality becoming singularity, as white consumes the nearly-square frame.
Ultimately, The Lighthouse offers a grim, psychologically thrilling survey of one man’s internal terrors and another man’s descent into madness.
“Boredom makes men to villains,” Wake warns. Weigh this against his previous claim to tend the light, which seems to be allegorical for truth, knowledge, understanding, or wisdom, and it seems that Wake is in fact the villain for withholding it from Winslow.
Wake may well have been the hero and the villain—selfish nonetheless—for keeping the light from young Winslow. His curiosity of what lies above the locked grate floor and beyond the casing of the light drove him to great extremes. The madness of a harrowing storm and the desire for understanding drove him to kill his mind-boggling superior.
In full, The Lighthouse has one of the most well-written scripts of the last decade. The story is so tightly knit, so woven together—there are myriad plot-points to consider. Eggers proves that little is needed for cinema to thrive and even break boundaries. Although many scenes were disturbing and seemed pointless, they fit the overarching premise that what happens at the lighthouse is unexplainable, surreal.
The telling sign of a masterful psychological thriller is how long it takes viewers to forget about it, how long it takes them to contemplate it. This is so well-done, I don't see The Lighthouse being forgotten—or understood—for a very long time.
After ridding himself of his only hindrance on the island, Winslow makes his way to the top of the lighthouse. (The light is mine, he thinks.) Unlocking the grate, his former business partner’s blood still drying on his face, he confronts the beacon. The light leaking out the lighthouse’s pinnacle is not enough, so Winslow opens the glass cover. He looks inside—terror on his face as he consumes the fullness of the light. His terror turns to satisfaction, almost joy.
He wakes up, disoriented, truly alone on the island (barring the potential reality of the siren he saw). He looks down to see seagulls bombarding him. Tearing into his stomach, he looks up helplessly.
“Bad luck to kill a sea bird.”