The Lighthouse shines a mythologically surreal light of dread upon its sluggishly repetitious narrative. “Should pale death with treble dread - Make the ocean caves our bed. God who hear’st the surges roll - Deign to save our supplicant soul”. Nineteenth Century, New England. An isolated rock shrouded in flocks of seagulls. A towering lighthouse illuminating the blustery skies with its empowering glow, its bellowing horn echoing through the torrential rainfall. Waves crashing upon its jagged coastline. An elderly lighthouse keeper and his recent “wickie” recruit surmount the population of this desolated landmass. Two strapping male individuals on a power struggling journey for command and control. “HAAARK!”, squawks keeper Wake amidst a drunken argument with his protégée Winslow. “Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full fowl in his fury!”, damning a gradually crazed Winslow to a superstitious death that sees “the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself”, after savaging a seagull, mythical for a soul of a lost sailor, during his morning duties. Invoking the ancient Promethean myth of Prometheus himself, creating humanity with clay. The prophetic ocean God who served Poseidon, Proteus, manifesting within Wake’s condemnatory speeches. Man versus deity. The ultimate struggle for power. Winslow’s increasingly maniacal stance, yearning to feast his eyes upon the light of the erect tower that Wake secludes from him, rampantly overwhelms with each night of alcoholic consumption. The mind melting to insanity amidst the claustrophobic extremity of desolation. Producing intimacy, jubilation and commination.
Eggers’ surreal horror is a fierce contemporary mythological insight into homoeroticism. Exploring the idealisms of man, supplying toxic masculinity upon the poisoned water supply that drives Winslow to alcohol. Uncovering the complexities of human nature and sexuality through meticulously orchestrated conversations that fluctuate in enragement. “Boredom. Eviler than the devil. Makes men to villains”. Indicative to the gradual embracing of immoral homosexuality, given the archaic century, that is bestowed upon these two individuals. Two morally ambiguous men, segregated from society, in constant contact with each other. Winslow especially, sexually repressed as he practices onanism with the visualisations of a siren conjured in his mind from an ornate sculpture. A duel for dominance, where one must accede to submission. Physically beating each other into capitulation, iconising foreplay.
The homoeroticism sprouting from Eggers’ nautical screenplay of Gods and monsters, coincides with the power struggle that encapsulates these two men into primitive beings. Desiring control over one and other. The striking visceral imagery, particularly the composited shot of Wake and Winslow adapting Schneider’s artwork ‘Hypnosis’, known for its queer interpretations, assisting in unearthing the mythic roots of the screenplay. From a psychological perspective, the subdued terror incites an Oedipal fixation from Winslow’s viewpoint. Both fearing and worshipping Wake as, not just a deity figure, but a fathering dynamic. Consequently causing Winslow to rampantly act like a child during heated conversations, often resorting to physical altercations.
Fortunately, the sizeable performances from both Pattinson and Dafoe establish these thematic interpretations, in what are undoubtedly career-best roles. The hurricane force at which Dafoe exerts, is nothing short of behemothic power. A titan amongst men. From the nautical dialect to the ferocity of his line delivery. Simply unmatched. Pattinson nearly equaled his dominant ability, with only a wobbly accent and occasional mumble diluting the clarity of his dialogue. The eventual turning point and climactic distorted screams highlighting the subdued acting style that he has polished over the years, truly aiming for acclaim. Eggers’ choice for a narrowed aspect ratio and orthochromatic aesthetic accentuates the photography of its time period, whilst symbolising the repressed nature of its characters. Equipped with meticulously implemented lighting and ornate production design, The Lighthouse truly was an exceptional masterclass is technical filmmaking.
Alas, the tidal voyage of this surreal psychological horror was too curvaceous for its own good. A problem was bound to arise, and so it did. Much like his narrative pacing in ‘The VVitch’, Eggers offers a sluggish motion to allow each detail to “strike ye down”. Unfortunately, the repetitious structure of Winslow completing his laborious duties with limited escalation in dread for the first hour, exemplified the very issue at the core of his films. They’re too slow, with limited development from a characterised and thematic perspective. The Promethean mythology, homoeroticism and dynamic power struggle were only established after Winslow inevitably bashed that one-eyed seagull in. The preceding first act provided insubstantial information other than the remoteness of the lighthouse and Winslow’s recurring duties as a “wickie”. Essentially withholding integral enlightenment until the halfway mark. As a consequence, Eggers was unable to produce the underlying vibe of dread that exquisitely powered the third act. Opting for a simple dramatic approach, albeit with minimised drama thanks to superfluous character development, rather than immediately entrancing with its eventual surrealistic integration. Undeniably sumptuous to glance at, but ultimately vacuous with its monotonous approach.
Much like my apprehension with ‘The VVitch’, a feature that personally felt disconnected upon first viewing, The Lighthouse will more than likely illuminate with future watches. A surreal voyage into the homoerotic interpretations of ancient mythology. The accentuation of differentiating dominance with submission. Eggers once again possesses exceptional talent to implement an exquisitely audacious horror, bolstered by two sterling performances, that regrettably takes too long to set sail for the powerfully inclined sea.
