Directed by Robert Eggers
* * * *
I saw The Lighthouse at my local mall, which has a long staircase
leading up to the theater. Two hours later, I walked out of the theater after it
was over, my mind steadily piecing itself back together. I was still in this
dazed state when I approached the stairwell, demanding my descent to return
home. I exaggerate not when I tell you that I stumbled those first few steps,
nearly keeling over a few times. When I finished my descent (unharmed), it was
then that I realized the excellence of The Lighthouse: it alone had
taken a physical toll on me, and I cannot give a higher compliment.
From the dense fog of the sea arrives Ephraim (Robert Pattinson) and
Thomas (Willem Dafoe), the next two wickies to tend to the lighthouse for the
next four weeks. Ephraim is new to the job, a quiet man with a mysterious past,
and he will be supervised by Thomas, the rambunctious veteran with a penchant
for vulgarity, heavy drinking, and seaside superstition. He aggressively guards
lamp duties, leaving the back-breaking manual labor to Ephraim. It’s grueling for
Ephraim, but those four weeks go by with some tension, but was overall
relatively painless, but things take a scary turn at the end of those four weeks:
their replacements never show up. With no outside contact and a big storm
brewing, the tightrope begins dangerously tightening on a mutually dependent
yet strained relationship.
The Lighthouse is the
second feature from Robert Eggers, and this is no sophomore slump. As evident
in his previous feature, The Witch, Eggers clearly has a passion for the
history of New England, which carries over to The Lighthouse. We are not
given a specific year that the film takes place, but every aspect of the terrific
production design tells us what time period this takes place in – without leaving
the confines of the lighthouse, mind you.
The Lighthouse traps
the viewer into its world. Its setting is so precisely imagined that it becomes
nothing short of palpable, so much so that we can practically smell this place,
let alone feel the grit and grime that encapsulates it, but a solitary setting
with only two characters is a risky move for a filmmaker. Luckily, The
Lighthouse is perfectly paced. Yes, the burn is slow – real slow – but just
when the film begins losing your attention, it knows precisely when to make its
next move and re-engage you.
Over time, we can even feel the walls closing in tighter and tighter, and
that's due in great part to the film's narrow aspect ratio. The film appears
disturbingly narrow up there on the movie screen, creating a boxy look. As ugly
as it may be to endure the film, it is gorgeous to look at. With its
photography and lighting, The Lighthouse creates a beautifully bleak
palette of grey shades. While black & white has become a cliché in the
independent film scene, this is undoubtedly one of the best-looking movies of
the year.
But a key to The Lighthouse's madness is its sound design. Whether
it be water dripping, a seagull chirping, or the lighthouse's ominous siren,
film is never quiet as those very sounds drone on and on and on. Loud enough
that they irk you, maybe even instigating an eye twitch here and there, but the
sounds never call too much attention to themselves.
Much has been said about Dafoe and Pattinson, the very anchors of The
Lighthouse. Believe the hype. While complimenting each other in their stark
contrasts of personality (they know exactly how to push each other’s buttons),
the two truly transform themselves into unhinged wickies of historical New
England, adding to the film’s authenticity. Pattinson continues a promising
ascension from his embarrassing start with Twilight to that of a
prominent and respectable actor, but the stealing the spotlight is Dafoe, in
perhaps his best performance since The Last Temptation of Christ. I was
worried that the film might go too far with his crudeness, but Dafoe toes the
line perfectly, always respecting exactly what kind of film this is.
The Lighthouse’s
scenario with the personality of its characters make the film work well enough
on a surface level, but there’s enough vagueness that it is indeed the kind of
movie that rewards application of a deeper meaning to it. I admit that I’m
still wrapping my head around the film, let alone figuring out what it meant to
me, but it’s the kind of wonderful art movie that can be interpreted in
countless different ways: existential pessimism? Political allegory? Two
generations at war with each other? The possibilities are truly endless, and I
expect a flood of analysis videos on YouTube upon the film’s home video
release. Refreshingly, though, The Lighthouse is never on the nose or
overbearing with whatever meaning may or may not live within – the fact that I’m
still juggling what it may have all meant says a lot.
I cannot think of a more agonizing wait I’ve endured for a movie than The
Lighthouse. The gritty black and white, the hauntingly beautiful
photography, the solitary setting with a minimal cast, and the symbolic
potential of a lighthouse gave promise for the exact kind of arthouse movie
experience I long for, so much so that I became all the more paranoid that the
movie would be ruined due to my own high expectations. Well, the wait is over,
and The Lighthouse still came out swinging as a cinematic
experience of the purest sense, utilizing every element the form has to offer.
What we got from that is a true original that will go down as one of the year’s
best and most memorable films.
No comments:
Post a Comment