The Lighthouse

Every time I see someone with a mustache like the one Robert Pattinson has in this movie, I get really jealous cause I just can’t grow facial hair, and I really want a mustache like that.  My favorite movie is The Prestige, and I think that movie and The Lighthouse are instances where everything would have been better if they had just kissed at the end. This being a retelling of the story of Prometheus kinda serves as an excuse for “butts in seats,” i.e., a way to get people to engage with this initially. Then you get this slowly-unfolding mystery-comedy where you’re both intrigued to see if Winslow can get up to the lighthouse and how long these guys can gaslight themselves into thinking there’s no homoerotic tension going on here. Which I think makes this a perfect transition to quickly talk about the performances. Somehow Pattinson and Defoe are stripped to their intrinsic feelings of anger and desire attached to their isolation, sexual frustration (and suppression), and especially for Winslow, his need to get into the lighthouse, and yet these performances don’t feel overdone. They both deliver this perfect blend of paranoia, anger, and comedic timing, all of which can be easy to overact, but these are just two really subtle geniuses in the way they slip in and out of each “personality.” Would also be a fool to skip over the aesthetic that Eggers creates, with the black and white film used as an emphasis for some really good lighting. Beyond being fitting for a movie called The Lighthouse, Eggers’ lack of color establishes a feeling of eternal dreariness. Ultimately, again, the black and white serves to speak to both stories, both a literal inability to gain any light as Winslow is barred from the lighthouse, and these dudes’ inability to accept their lives would be much better if they realized they’re gay. So long story short, they should’ve kissed