Winslow and Wick, played respectively by Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, are stationed to watch over a New England lighthouse for four weeks, tending to its daily needs. One of the joys of discovering a new film is uncovering the secrets of its main characters with fresh eyes, a joy that The Lighthouse features in spades, especially given the confrontational attitude between the two leads. They're two men matched together by seeming chance, holding their personal histories very close to the chest, so much so that they don't even find out the other's names until half an hour in. With the level of baggage they carry in, it isn't long before the cabin fever begins to set in, as we see the two in their polar opposite ideals clash at each other.
But what that confrontation represents, at first glance, can be quite puzzling to the mind. In spite of such a simple idea, there's a whole wealth of complex ideas Eggers manages to extract from it, as the sparring partners progressively go for the other's throats. As for what kind of themes it stands for? I see it veering into several directions.
One, perhaps the most immediately noticeable, concerns the two undermining and challenging the others' masculinity. Much of the chores around the island call for turns between the two, but given how experienced Wick is in the job, he hands most of the heavy-lifting and busywork to Winslow, while Wick keeps himself holed up in the lighthouse beacon every night. That disparity becomes the first wedge between the two, with Wick relaying his sometimes unreasonable demands thick on Winslow, and holding his seniority and superiority over Winslow in borderline condescension. The two are driven mad to prove themselves the bigger man (the clever use of shadows even highlight just how "big" or "small" the two are feeling in any given scene), overwhelmed with a sense of lust (sexual, or otherwise), and they only seem to be able to tolerate each other when chugging down whiskey. That toxic attitude hasn't made either of them appear bigger, but may as well leave them shriveling and pathetic, regressing them from men into mindless animals, at one point quite literally.
Another angle could be a more esoteric and religious one, a parable of men's folly by challenging God and nature. Being a man of the sea, Wick is a very superstitious man, heeding closely to tall tales and legends out of fear of them enacting some cosmic vengeance. While Winslow at one point claims to be a God-fearing man, most of his actions seem to contradict that stance, especially given his disdain of the myths Wick clings to like gospel. It's for that very disdain that ultimately kicks off the suffering in the rest of the film, driven jealous by the beacon that they both crave (like Heaven itself, the beacon appears to represent some higher enlightenment), with notions of faith - or lack thereof in some cases - and everlasting reward pushing them closer to battle. On one hand is Wick, who's long enjoyed the clarity and spirit given to him by the beacon, but who has also grown drunk with the power it gives him. Then we have Winslow, the man desperate to feel the spirit that the light represents, but perhaps has neither the strength nor the respect for what an overwhelming power it is. But in their enjoyment or craving for that light, showing blatant abuse or disregard for God's creations, has unleashed suffering upon themselves like one of the ancient plagues. Or if not overtly religious in intentions, it could just as easily be substituted with nature acting against its inhabitants, those who show little care for the environment they wander, and how that corrupted, polluted nature will only destroy them in the end.
Thirdly, The Lighthouse could also be a representation of nostalgia gone wrong. This is an old-fashioned film in every sense, from its simple premise, to its picturesque postcard photography, to the practicality present in every frame of the film. But behind those nostalgic lenses is also something far more sinister. Being a shanty-man spinning tales of his past and of the ancient sea on a whim, Wick establishes the lonely nature of the lighthouse as some grandiose adventure, even though Winslow can see right through that façade, and the frightening power it yields over those who occupy the island.
The black and white, 4:3 photography serves more purpose than just to look stunning (and it is), but serves as an added storytelling tool in its own way, to emphasize just how cold, lonely, and claustrophobic the space of the titular lighthouse is. Often pushing the two leads uncomfortably close together, even though one of their egos can usually take up most of the image, let alone both of them. Between the many parables that drive his screenplay, and the brutality come from the secluded, unforgiving setting, The Lighthouse drips with an unsettling sense of isolation, further punctuated by its dreamlike, often hallucinogenic imagery to help us emulate the mindset of the two main players.
With the isolation, it depends a great deal on the talent, and sparring abilities of its two-man show, played to superb effect by both Dafoe and Pattinson. With how lonely and bleak the atmosphere of the film is, and with what a reportedly brutal shoot the film was, many other performers could just buckle under the pressure. Instead, that behind the scenes stress only fuels their resolve, giving the two greater credibility as men who despise the others' guts. It's a tense relationship from the start, and as the beans continue to spill, it only escalates as the two constantly snap at each other, or get liquored up just to sit in the same room. That manages to mine some levity and humor despite the cold aura, and pushes the two to bring their A-game against the other, showing themselves to be among the finest character actors of their generations. The legendary Dafoe is titanic as the crazier of the two, managing to convey just as much genuine warmth and laughter from his deceptively friendly nature, but just as easily can be an utterly terrifying presence, with the piercing gaze of his eyes staring into one's soul like a knife to the heart. But the younger Pattinson is no slouch either, in a more subtle performance built upon continually peeling layers, as what seem to be the naïve intentions of an apathetic young man, show much darker shades of someone who isn't as innocent as he lets on.
It's those two that carry the film on its shoulders. Much as Egger's script may be fascinating in its themes, and compelling in even the most dialogue-heavy scenes, were it not for the stunning commitment of the leads, I don't think this movie would be nearly as great as it is. I didn't expect such a reaction out of a film from the maker of The Witch, a film that I respect but am incredibly indifferent to, but I was taken aback by The Lighthouse. The Witch may have revealed Eggers' talents to the world, but The Lighthouse solidifies them, showing his gifts fully formed and to virtuoso quality. Another success from A24's lineup.
****1/2 / *****
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