The Lighthouse: Where Art and Madness Connect

Though we have grown used to the idea of them and their place in our society, movies are kind of a weird thing when you think about them. They are a series of hundreds of thousands of individual images that, when strung together, shown in rapid succession, backlit, and accompanied by sounds, can tell a cohesive narrative, challenge our ideas and notions, and are the most visual method of realizing the entirety of human imagination. And while they are now primarily known for being related to an industrial complex that intersects capitalism and artistry, there was a time between the days of George Méliès’s novelty films and the dawn of the Hollywood machine where films were dedicated to experimenting with the artistry and technological capabilities of camera work. This style of filmmaking was later abandoned for more lucrative fare, but lives on in modern arthouse cinema. It’s in this spirit, the same which produced ‘Man With a Movie Camera,’ ‘Battleship Potemkin,’ and ‘L’Age d’Or,’ that director Robert Eggers made ‘The Lighthouse.’

Saying this movie has a narrative feels like an overstatement. It’s premise, that of two engineers, the crusty nautical veteran Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe) and one a fragile young rookie Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson), stranded together on a remote New England island to operate and repair a mysterious lighthouse as they battle nature, spiritual bad luck, naval superstition, hallucinations, alcoholism, sexual frustration, dehydration, and each other, is really just an excuse to explore the definitions of madness relative to both characters and the island itself. There are story beats and it appears at first glance to follow a traditional three-act structure, but the film merely toys with the concept of plot structure and takes obvious glee in subverting the idea of storytelling with nonsensical tangents, irrelevant subplots, and the give-and-take power struggles between the two central characters.

Visually, the film benefits from its colorless aesthetic. Eggers uses the black-and-white scheme of pre-color technology-age of cinema to emphasize the use of heavy shadows and light, both representing different aspects of madness and the two characters. It also helps the flow of fluid, a major symbol of the ebb of sanity throughout the movie, stand out all the more. Likewise, the ancient 1.19:1 aspect ratio helps to impart the cramped, limited space the actors are forced to interact and live in. The set itself is fantastic, with the titular lighthouse itself having a constant defined presence in the film. Even when not in the shot itself, the rotating light that will blind the screen to remind you of it’s haunting aura, like an overseeing eye of some cruel, unfeeling deity of madness. The island is small enough that it further forces the two engineers to confront one another but large enough that they are allowed their respective secrets, sending both of them deeper into each other’s psyche.

A special mention must be made for the sound design. I normally don’t make mention of such things unless the audio is subpar or elevated to such a level that it could reinvent how sound design in cinema operates. In this case, it’s the latter. Apart from the gushing flow of the ever-present sea around them and the floating wind songs that flutter between the eerie gull calls, a terrifying fog horn blasts through the film to underline the more horrific moments and even to disrupt the quieter moments. It’s an audial reminder of the tension and potential violence that’s always lurking under the surface. The sound is even more remarkable in its absence. Maybe because the rest of the film is so spooky and loud, but the moments of relative silence inside the lighthouse itself are some of the most terrifying in the entire film, filled with the unspoken explosion the film is always building to.

But if there’s any one reason to see this movie, it’s the acting. Dafoe is the absolute master of giving sincere yet over-the-top performances and this might just be his magnum opus. His shanty-style accent pairs perfectly with his natural rasp and his insistent engrossment comes across in every single frame he’s in. Meanwhile, Pattinson has made his entire career about trying to rehabilitate his public image after his early years in the ‘Twilight’ franchise. He more or less accomplished this after his absolute star making turn in ‘Cosmopolis’ but if not realizing that means he keeps picking projects like this, then let his ignorance be our bliss. He’s developed a knack for choosing roles that compliment the exact limitations of his range and take full advantage of his strengths. And when he’s paired with one of the greatest scene-chewers to ever pick up a script, the best thing for Pattinson to play would be a meek but layered runaway both trying to take influence and hide his shameful past from his older counterpart. If there’s anything to criticize in the acting, it’s that there is such a dramatic difference in Dafoe’s and Pattinson’s screen presence. Pattinson is the defacto center of the two characters, but Dafoe can’t help but be the more expressive and possessive. They have great chemistry, but when the entire film focuses on the whiplashing power balance between the two, it doesn’t help when one of them is clearly holding all the cards.

There are other problems with the film, some of them quite major. This will always be the case for movies that are trying to be about something and are willing to sacrifice narrative cohesion to accomplish the goal of imparting their message. In this case, the constant back and forth of the visual insanity compromises the implied symbolism of several key elements more than once. There are also the elements that just don’t make any sense whatsoever. This is an inevitable issue when dealing with the concepts ‘The Lighthouse’ addresses, but even madness has a logic to it that can be tracked and followed by a similar mind. In a way, I’m glad there are things I didn’t understand about this film because I wouldn’t like the implication that I was crazy enough to follow the through-line, but the fact that there were some things I could track left me curious more than anything else.

This movie worked for me in ways that I’m not sure it will work for anyone else. Maybe the quintessential New England setting and style of writing spoke to my sensibilities as a Massachusetts native. Maybe its heavy themes of the impact alcoholism and solitude can have on the already fragile human psyche spoke to me on a deeper level than I was ready for. Maybe I was so disappointed by ‘Joker’s representation of madness just a few weeks ago (and yes, this is me admitting I was WAY too generous in my review of it) that an even half-hearted attempt to see it done right has reinvigorated my belief that art can convey the nuances of the human experience. But for one reason or another, I really liked this one. I’m more than cognizant that mainstream audiences will avoid this one like the plague, but if you want to see an arthouse film for the 21st century, this would be the definitive one. At least, for this decade. 3/5.

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