The Lighthouse
A storm keeps the duo stranded alone on the island, and that’s exactly what we watch for the film’s 109-minute runtime: Two guys trapped together, growing more delirious and spiteful with every passing moment. In other words, it’s the perfect movie for our time of self-isolation. Winslow and Wake while away the hours by carrying out chores, getting stupid-drunk together, bickering and sharing a few intimate details about themselves. (A warning: You will never be able to un-hear Dafoe taunting, “Why’d ya spill yer beans?”) The winds rarely let up, the seagulls are always watching, the chamber pots keep threatening to overflow and the picture’s hemmed-in aspect ratio is as cramped as the living space. The whole thing’s shot in gloomy black and white and dripping with bodily fluids.
If all that sounds deeply unnerving, you’re right, it is. The Lighthouse is a grimly funny story of two people getting caught up in seemingly supernatural circumstances and succumbing to madness. But at least now you’re better prepared for it than Winslow.
