The Lighthouse (Review)

There are moments of undeniable brilliance in Dave Eggers’ second feature. The atmosphere is consistently superb and the performances are outstanding. In addition to this, it’s a film of obvious technical brilliance – a brilliance that is complemented by a clear sense of style. However, the Lighthouse does also feel like a purely stylistic exercise. This style does evoke substance – and the film is certainly thought provoking – but it’s theatrical in a way that creates a pervasive unreality, instead of the surreality it is going for.

This isn’t to say the Lighthouse isn’t a strange film, it is. This story of two men stuck together in a remote lighthouse that descends completely into madness is a beguiling experience. The narrative is simple but the execution is anything but. The Lighthouse touches on horror, comedy, myth, homo-eroticism and good old fashioned claustrophobia. It is a vague collage of spiralling madness that welcomes interpretation whilst dealing with clear themes around masculinity and isolation. The territory trod by the film is, however, nothing really new; simply put: it goes mad in the ways you expect and goes into the thematic areas you expect. It’s not by-the-numbers but it hardly explores new thematic territory; it definitely gets weird and it definitely goes places but these places – though strange – are not uncharted. The collection itself may be novel but there’s an odd restraint to the film. It’s unsettling and strange but not as transgressive or challenging as it could be, falling back onto pseudo-dreamlike unreality in a way that obfuscates or disguises its stranger moments. At points, it feels more like a collage of strange things than a challenging expression madness. However, while the content – divorced from context – may be expected, the execution is certainly unique. I wanted the film to go further but I was consistently impressed by the ways it presented the areas it did go into.

This links back to the strange feeling of restraint, which is an odd term to attach to a film like this but is weirdly fitting. To me, the Lighthouse never felt truly surreal. It didn’t have the truly dreamlike quality or fluid logic that I expect but instead had a theatrical feeling of unreality. The film is full of excellent dialogue and wonderful moments but it all feels very constructed. The words that cascade from the mouths of the actors feel very written, overtly composed and crafted – once again linking back to the film as a stylistic exercise. If anything, the film feels like a poem. It’s open and evocative but it is clearly constructed and exists more as art-piece than immersive experience. For me, this sense of artifice kept me at a distance and therefore made the experience less impactful. I remained impressed by it, and really rather taken by it, but I was never swept up in it. There are films that I absolutely adore that use artifice to great effect but the unreality of the Lighthouse didn’t feel intentional and didn’t enhance the experience. It’s a fever dream of a film which relies on you being mesmerised by it. I was not mesmerised but I was impressed.

The two most obviously impressive facets of the Lighthouse are the performances and the visual design. The cinematography is just perfect. This is a beautiful film presented in an obscure, old-fashioned aspect ratio (1.19:1) that evokes impressionistic, silent film and feels as claustrophobic as the film itself. It’s a lovely marriage of form and function and the film is clearly shot to get the most out of the ratio. The black and white photography is also beautiful, exhibiting brilliant work with shadows that really bring faces to life – especially in the more theatrical moments of the film (which are many). The set design is also sublime. The location is perfect and the constructed lighthouse is amazing. Every inch of the island seems purposeful and is used well, be it for aesthetic reasons or to allow for a narrative moment. As already alluded to, Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattison are excellent. The material is dense and wordy – in places a little bit too much so – but it is performed with perfection. There is a terrific juxtaposition between characters and each actor sells their role completely and utterly commits. The result of this is a whole host of truly memorable moments that rise higher than the film itself. I will always fondly remember snatches of monologues and desperate pleas about lobsters but the brilliance of these moments is part of the overall collage effect of the film.

The Lighthouse feels like a brilliantly pieced together collection of weird horror comedy sketches – both to its benefit and its detriment. The comedy is not overly relied on, and is often a by-product of the bizarre horror (or straight up weirdness); however, it’s a film that never got under my skin and never quite came together. It is theoretically unsettling and strange but the clear unreality – evoked by theatrical writing and its overtly stylistic feel – kept me at a respectful distance. It is still a film I really like, and one I hugely champion as a fan of bizarre cinema; it’s just that I wanted to be blown away by it and infatuated by it and, quite simply, I just wasn’t. The Lighthouse is a great film marked by top tier performances and top tier craft; it’s full of memorable and quotable moments and it’s visually stunning. It may not fully cohere and it may not be as daring as it could have been but it’s still very impressive and well worth a watch.