To all my friends and family who have dealt with me stanning for Robert Egger’s The Lighthouse this past month… well… you’re going to have to deal with it a bit longer.
When I’m asked about my thoughts I immediately skew my attention right past the technical excellence (SD, 35mm, b&w looks amazing!), and right toward the incredible performances of Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe.
The superlatives I often use mirror that of my tweet when I saw it at #FantasticFest last month: physically and emotionally demanding.
Pattinson and Stewart are holding on to an upward trajectory ever since they cashed their checks for the Twilight franchise. I don’t mind artists attaching themselves to cash grab projects, I get it, I’d start in Fast and the Furious at the drop of a dime. But I feel an overwhelming warmth when I see an artist pushing themselves to the edge of their craft.
Pattinson has been doing that ever since Twilight; Dafoe has been doing this his whole life. There is no logistical reason for them to have dirt and muck being thrown in their faces, to be naked in compromising positions, and to throw themselves into psychotic angry, sad, anxious mindsets – but they did.
As the film opens in more theaters I can’t help but highly recommend it. It’s heavy, from a psychological perspective, so proceed with caution.