In the FIN (Atlantic International Film Festival) Guide the description for Robert Eggers’ film The Lighthouse states, [this film] is “unlike anything you have ever seen, and you are certain to never forget it.” After over a century’s worth of filmmaking it is a bold claim that a new film is so unique that it is unlike anything viewers have seen before, but The Lighthouse does seem to be creating its own filmic rules, bringing together elements from disparate genres, telling what (in a way) is a very small story in an epically sweeping manner, and creating a truly captivating, thought provoking and beautiful film with imagery that sears itself into the brain.
The film is set in the late 1890s in and around a lighthouse on small rocky island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Thomas Wake is the lighthouse keeper and Ephraim Winslow is his new assistant. The two must live together in cramped and rustic quarters for a specific number of weeks, and then they are to be relieved; but when a huge storm hits the island the two become stranded. Wake, played by Willem Dafoe, is a gnarly old sailor who often waxes poetic about his life at sea. He is romantic in his dedication to keeping the light as well, as he won’t let Winslow tend to it. His temperament mirrors the sea, he is often stern, exacting, but steady in his work, and when drinking he ebbs and flows more merrily, but sometimes, without warning, great tides of emotion come crashing down (often on Winslow, played by Robert Pattinson). The tension between the two men is apparent from the beginning, as it is clear that Winslow does not like having someone in a position of authority over him, while Wake relishes in having someone to treat like a lowly Cabin Boy. As resentments build between the two men, so does a certain intimacy that comes from living so close to one another, relying solely on each other for survival, for company and entertainment. Watching Winslow and Wake loathe one another and love one another simultaneously is fascinating, and one is never quite sure which emotion will ultimately prevail.
Of course, in the late 1890s Wake and Winslow would not have been able to love one another (even platonically) without calling into question their masculinity and therein lies one of the main themes in The Lighthouse. Humans require connection, they require comfort, they require love and tenderness; what happens when two people cannot give these basic needs to one another? Or, what happens when they do begin to care for one another and then are so ashamed of themselves that they would rather kill one another than hug one another? While Wake can spew out monologues like Captain Ahab on a bender Winslow is much more reticent and careful with his words. Here, the narrative begins to swirl. At first we, along with Winslow, lose our sense of the time passing. How many days has the storm outside been raging? Winslow, who had been sober until the storm, begins to drink and the more he drinks the more he confesses about his past, and the more he reveals, the more unsure we are whether the madness he appears to be descending into was caused by being trapped during the storm, or whether this is his true personality, unleashed and unable to be contained any longer. He also begins to hallucinate, until the hallucinations begin to blur so much with reality that we are no longer able to discern the two with absolute certainty.
One of the most striking elements of the film is the way it looks, as though it were shot through a Hipstamatic filter. The film has an aspect ratio of 1.19:1, which is almost perfectly square, and the black and white film stock, coupled with the lens Eggers used, and a custom cyan filter gives the film the unmistakable look of a very early photograph, and thus everything we see looks literally like a “moving picture,” but with all the stunning clarity, depth and definition of imagery we are used to seeing in film today. It is a fascinating mixture of elements, because, on the one hand, it adds realism, it feels like it could be a film made in the time the story is set, but on the other, it plays with our connotations of past and how these stories are constructed, the artificiality of seeing the past as events happening in black and white being a prime example. The way the film is shot often gives one the sense of someone holding a handheld camcorder, at one point the screen goes completely black because the camera pans across a blank, dark wall, which also begs the question, from whose perspective are we seeing this story?
There are also two primary genres of storytelling occurring simultaneously in this film. The story about the relationship between Wake and Winslow while they are trapped together in this lighthouse could be a play. It is a dramatic and insightful psychological exploration of the relationships between men, the perils of toxic masculinity, and the dangerous limitations of Libertarian views of personal freedom, and how these both can set entitled white men up for a lifetime worth of feelings of inadequacy, failure and rage. It is also a magical and ghostly story, where we start to wonder whether Wake has some kind of sway with the ocean, whether the seagulls have nefarious intentions, and whether the mermaid who keeps appearing to Winslow is the source of his madness or a product of it. It is also a psychological thriller, as we are never quite sure whether Winslow wants to murder Wake or Wake wants to murder Winslow, and ultimately, whether one succeeds, how, and why. In all, the film feels like a Pinter play trapped in a horror film.
Dafoe and Pattinson both give phenomenal performances. On the surface Wake looks like a caricature of a 19th Century sailor, but Dafoe fills him with so much nuance and contradiction, that he shines with originality and is completely compelling. Pattinson has an incredible arc to play as Winslow, who begins nearly wordless, expressing himself only through gruelling physical labour and his nonverbal responses to his new boss, and then unravels to become completely overtaken by his intense emotions of joy, anger, sadness, fear and, I think, even love. Their chemistry with one another also oscillates so perfectly from discomfort to intimacy to hostility and back again. There is so much subtly here, even within scenes where the actors’ emotions are cascading with as much unbridled ferocity as the waves in the storm.
The Lighthouse is unlike any other film I have seen. To me, it is a cinematic masterpiece. The story of these two men on its own is riveting, but coupled with all the other elements, it leaves you with vivid imagery and profound questions to continue to consider well after you have left the theatre.
I don’t usually write about American films, but The Lighthouse was filmed in Yarmouth and Cape Forchu, which makes it an ideal Closing feature for FIN (the Atlantic International Film Festival). It will be screened on September 19th, 2019 at Park Lane Cineplex (5657 Spring Garden Road, Halifax), which is sold out.
