Why 'The Lighthouse' is a Cinematic Masterpiece

One of the greatest travesties in recent film history has to be the fact that, despite career-best performances from both actors, neither Pattinson nor Dafoe were nominated for an acting Oscar for Robert Eggers' second feature film 'The Lighthouse'. Watching it for the first time earlier this year, the film quickly raced to the top half of my all-time favourite films list, and I have spent a good deal of time turning it over in my mind. It is certainly a thought-provoking picture, and one that will stick with you, perhaps because it is unlike anything else put to celluloid. I was therefore outraged when it barely featured in the 2020 Academy Awards' list of nominations, only picking up a measly nod for Sound Mixing.

Despite the injustice, there may be a reason for this. The Academy weren't ready to accept 'The Lighthouse' for what it is. While borrowing scenic undertones from famed Swedish pioneer of bizarre cinema Ingmar Bergman, Eggers ventures out on his own in this claustrophobic flick, diving into themes yet unexplored by filmmakers and producing the most bizarre yet note-perfect blend of storytelling ever put to celluloid.

'The Lighthouse' is a film that cannot be contained into a single genre. Neither horror nor conventional drama, and somewhere in the void between comedy and thriller, the simple story of two men on a secluded rock during a storm is fraught with Promethean symbolism.

The story follows a young man named Ephriam Winslow (Pattinson) and experienced lighthouse keeper Thomas Wake (Dafoe) who arrive on a secluded outcrop of rock with four weeks of solitude ahead of them with the set task of tending to a solemn lighthouse just off the stormy New England coast.

As their stay descends into prolonged chaos through the fault of nightmarish weather, the feverish nightmare of isolation blurs the lines between fiction and fact. Throughout the film we are assaulted with eye-popping scenes of mermaids laying upon the rocky shore, dead bodies in fishing nets, wriggling tentacles belonging to an unknown beast and the strange mystical power of the lighthouse light. Even the passing of time is rendered more fantastical than usual. In one snapshot from the film, Dafoe asks Pattinson:

"How long have we been on this rock? Five weeks? Two Days? Where are we? Help me to recollect".

The strain of isolation weighs heavily on the pair, with disastrous consequences.

Behind all this, and in his own strange method of calculation, Eggers leaves seemingly no stone untouched, while still conceiving a beautifully well-put together piece. Its chaos, although wild to the viewer, is with purpose. To the untrained eye the film meanders with reckless abandon, but Eggers' variety of themes and emotions are all work in strange harmony to create a deep web of interlocking themes.

The two personalities of Wake and Winslow bond and war in equal amounts, even coming close to a flicker of romantic lust at one unbearably tense moment after a drunken slow-dance. Indeed, in some less palpable scenes, the two bicker like an old married couple when Winslow claims he doesn't like Wake's cooking. An injection of homoerotic undertones line the entire piece, with Eggers pushing the film to places other less bold filmmakers would not dare to go.

Eggers even borrows an infamous piece of gay art to supply an astonishing tableaux in one of the film's many dream sequences. The apparent reference to Sacha Schneider's turn-of-the-century 'Hypnosis' (1904) painting is not only a denotation of the homoerotic undertones of the movie, but also a possible allusion to the manipulative hold Dafoe's Wake has over Winslow, as the younger of the two descends further and further into insanity.

While this tableaux is undeniably beautiful, eerie and effective, it also serves a purpose. Eggers' film is littered with symbolism and all of it is delicately placed to elevate the story. He is helped in part by his brother Max, who co-wrote the screenplay with Eggers.

The screenplay itself is something of a literary masterpiece. The dialogue between the two men is full of banter, rhyme and rhythm, and yet still manages to feel wholly realistic. Similarly to 'The VVitch', which does an astonishing job of using an authentic early modern English dialect for the colonial family it focuses on, the Eggers brothers endeavor to keep 'The Lighthouse' true to history, with accents and phrases that are purely symptomatic of its setting in the 1890's. The epochal backdrop, while being unfamiliar to us, makes things a whole lot scarier. Again, this was found in Eggers' debut film 'The VVitch' - things that are remote and isolated get under your skin a whole lot more. You can relate somewhat, but not totally. The family's situational religious isolation in 'The VVitch' is something we have knowledge of but likely not similar experience of these days, therefore this empathetic 'distance' injects an insidious presence of the unknown, something we are all, in part, afraid of to varying degrees. In 'The Lighthouse' this same historical unknown of living as a lighthouse keeper in the 19th Century keeps us detached from Wake and Winslow, allowing a brooding unfamiliarity and strangeness to overcome the piece. Yet it does not totally, remove us from their explosive emotions, which we can still relate to. After all, isolation, loneliness and anger are all basic humans conditions.

What begins as an unsettling and brooding film quickly revs into one of hysteria and calamity. Throughout, both performances from Dafoe and Pattinson are extraordinary. Dafoe's Wake is a surly seadog who delivers the most mesmerizing and terrifying monologues in his Cornish lilt. His performance is filled with a mysteriousness and lashings of comedy, and always executed with total dedication. In a perfect contrast, but equally as phenomenal, is Pattinson's Winslow - a New England loner with a past full of secrets that haunt him even into his post as a wickie. As the film creeps on, the two bicker, dance and spar, chipping away at one another until the insanity is as vicious as the sea-storm surrounding them. The two actors are able to push their respective characters to extreme highs, while also providing contrast in scenes where they are dialed down to something more akin to subtlety - something which the film arguably is not. Nevertheless both actors are pitch-perfect, reaching the dizzying heights of madness that the film requires.

Both actors, known separately for their no-holds-barred attitude to filming (see 'Antichrist' (2009) and 'High Life' (2018) among others) throw everything into this role. Pattinson in particular, is famed for a 'ferocious' masturbation scene that takes place in the latter half of the film as he grows more deranged. In an interview with Time Out, the actor stated the scene was an "icebreaker", making even Eggers a little shocked when he finally called 'cut'.

"We'd just done a week of rehearsals where I'd basically hidden everything from him," he said. "I felt I had to prove myself on the first day, so I went [for] the most extreme and grotesque… grotesquery." According to Pattinson, the most extreme elements he had planned for the scene were unused [you can read the full 'Time Out' interview with Rob here].

Certainly this anecdote serves as a demonstration of the actors threw themselves into the picture. According to Dafoe, he had seen 'The VVitch' at a screening and was so taken with Eggers' work he contacted him in the hopes of working alongside him. You can see, in Dafoe's extraordinary performance, just how dedicated he is to telling this story. His grumbling, eccentric 'Old Tom' is a curious presence onscreen, serving as a character to both amuse and unnerve us the audience, as well as sparring partner Winslow. Each scene is carefully crafted by the actors and their director, so that it becomes so completely immersive that you struggle to pull yourself out of this strange, nautical world.

The film itself isn't a simple one, either. As mentioned earlier, it contains a lot of symbolism, so that you're left poring over what exactly things meant in the picture long after the credits have rolled. And that's exactly the way Eggers wants it. To be spoon-fed the meaning of a film's symbolism is reductive, and upon it's release, Eggers reportedly wanted people to make their own mind up about the film. He stated that the story has a very Promethean theme, with strong similarities between the Greek titan Prometheus, who steals fire from the Gods to give to humanity despite it being forbidden, and Pattinson's character. However, other than that it is strictly up to the audience to decide whether some of the events in the film were fact or fiction, if there is indeed a fantastical supernatural element, or what the 'light' at the top really contains that is so alluring to both men. This serves to make the film even more intriguing and brilliant.

The first time I saw it in the cinema I was so struck by it, I pored over its scenes for weeks in my head afterward, turning them over and trying to decipher the real truth. Of course, we may never have a definitive, concrete truth of what happens between Wake and Winslow on their New England rock. But therein lies the movie's excellence: nothing is straightforward; you can decide your own version of events should you wish.

In the Wikipedia entry for 'The Lighthouse' it is labelled a 'horror' film. Dafoe, when discussing the film, has claimed this is not the case, and he is correct; it is so much more than that. Though the eerie black and white camera resolution, murky skies, haunting soundtrack and obvious gore elements provide this film with definite horror traits, it is, in parts, hysterically funny. It is also murderously intense at times, in a way that is more akin to a psychological thriller. In a word, it's just plain weird. It arguably has a strong resemblance to Bergman's 'Hour of the Wolf' (1968) in which a man descends into madness while he and his wife are staying on a remote island. This film has also been labelled a 'horror', but this is, again, reductive. Both 'Hour of the Wolf' and 'The Lighthouse' transcend genre completely. Eggers makes sure that everything but the kitchen sink is thrown into this piece, in thematic terms, and this makes for a more rounded, enthralling film overall, while injecting his own quirks and references here and there. It also makes it unique; it is quite unlike anything you will have experienced before in terms of film, and unlike anything you will likely see again.

Without giving too much of the plot away, 'The Lighthouse' is one of the best film to emerge from cinema in recent years, if not of all time. It's a bizarre Promethean drama with wild vigor and crackling implications of thought. Yes, this is a bold statement to make and just my opinion, but to watch 'The Lighthouse' is a refreshing experience. It makes you question the very foundations of cinema, what it is, what it represents, and totally tears down the idea of the 'genre' film. It is twisted and bizarre, with screeching mermaids and suspicious-looking seagulls to only add to the absolute insanity of the piece. But don't be put off by the idea that this film is a 'horror' and nothing more. It is gory and freaky in places, but it has a phenomenal mind-bending story to tell, with two of the best and most unique performances to ever appear on celluloid. Nothing of recognisable mainstream familiarity totally overcomes the piece: it is its own genre.

And that is why the Academy did not give it the time of day; it didn't know what to make of 'The Lighthouse', let alone what to do with it. Nevertheless, the lack of official recognition Dafoe and Pattinson - and in turn, Eggers - received for the film is a horrendous mistake. If you watch the movie - which I implore you to do so - you'll realise this, too.