At present, I really have no coherent thoughts on this film. It is a slow-simmering slew of images and icons, parsed out amidst confusing dialogue sessions between our main characters. I am unsure on how to approach this piece. Hopefully, through writing, I can digest this strange beast.

On ‘The VVitch’

The VVitch is one of my favorite films of the past several years. It is movie that clung to me after my viewing. The horror elements are masterful - the visuals are eerie and memorable, the music haunting. The film grabs you from the very beginning with an immediate and visceral fear, and it does not release you from its grip until the very end, despite its deliberate pacing. The historical setting works for the plot and provides an appropriately folkloric setting for this tale, but the themes are still evident and resonant to a contemporary audience. Through the destruction of a Puritan family, the film condemns their misplaced values and ultimately transforms into a story of liberation for the young daughter at the center of this story.

The Lighthouse is very similar in style and overall structure to The VVitch. A small cast of characters in a historical setting are isolated for the entirety of the story in a remote location. Fantastical and supernatural elements present themselves, but much of the tension appears from interpersonal conflicts within our human cast. Folklore is pulled upon heavily; 1600s tales of witchcraft for one, and turn-of-the-century sailor superstitions for the other. Animals appear in both as manifestations and vessels of large and dark forces beyond the control or understanding of the human cast.

The two movies share many stylistic similarities, but their methods of storytelling differ greatly. While many of the specifics of the imagery and plot developments in The VVitch allow for interpretation, the broad strokes are clear. The story follows a straight-forward progression and descent, in which the character dynamics are foregrounded and well-defined. The Lighthouse, however, defies any easy interpretation. The storytelling is complicated by numerous hallucinogenic sequences, the legitimacy of which the film deliberately makes unclear. The nature of the relationship between the two leads is complicated, and changes and reverses frequently. In fact, the whole movie is intentionally very repetitive, cycling and repeating a series of events, in a way that seems designed to confound the audience.

A couple interpretations come to mind as starting points. Let us take the role of a sailor, and use each of these hypotheses as outset points to navigate the murky waters of this movie, and see where they lead.

Note: Though we eventually learn both of their true names, for much of the story the characters go unnamed. So, for simplicity, I will refer to Willem Dafoe’s character as Old, and Robert Pattinson’s character as Young, as I heard was done for the English subtitle track of the film.

X - As an exploration of power

Hypothesis: Old clings to power, abusing Young with his senior position and plays with the rules as well as Young’s sense of reality to fit his liking and reinforce his authority.

For this interpretation, we assume that Young is mostly clearheaded and thus, most that we are shown from his perspective is true. Some of Young’s perceptions of supernatural entities may not be literally happening, but supernatural forces are preying upon him and his mind, amplifying his loneliness and fear which he suffers from directly because of Old’s manipulations.

Young is largely the victim here, and from the beginning, Old is firmly in a position of power. During their first meal, Old bends the rules to suit himself, first by the innocently offering alcohol. Young is immediately aware that this is against the rules, since he diligently read the rules of the position before arriving. Old is taken aback that Young is a reader, as it indicates intelligence and will make it harder to manipulate him. But while the alcohol could at first be interpreted as a friendly gesture to initiate a camaraderie, Old insists upon the drink, perhaps because it will make Young more easy to control in the future. Young maintains his stance, resolutely drinking water instead. In that same meal, Old insists that he and he alone will man the light, despite Young noting that the rules demand switching off of duties. Old again disregards the written rules, employing his seniority and experience to keep Young in a position of subordination, having him instead do the hard manual labor alone.

In this view, the central lighthouse itself plays the role of the panopticon. Old occupies the highest point on the island, farthest from the grime of the earth and dangerous waters of the sea. He has the privilege of sight, looking down and judging Young as he toils upon the ground, while the light obscures any attempts by Young to look up and observe him. The power of the lighthouse is also linked with sexual pleasure and fulfillment - while Young masturbates in the cold of the dank shed to a small carved mermaid figure, Old is implied to pleasure himself luxuriously in the lighthouse, fully undressing and receiving some sort of supernatural rapture through the light mechanism.

Young endures dangerous and backbreaking work, nearly literally. Climbing rickety ladders, lugging jars of oil and wheelbarrows of coal around the island, even dangling off the edge of the lighthouse to administer an unnecessary reapplication of paint at Old’s insistence.

Under these difficult and lonely work conditions, Young understandably begins to go a bit mad. The main inciting incident is Young’s killing of the one-eyed seagull, despite Old’s warnings. While the killing may not be right or fully justified, it is understandable. Young is stressed, and the seemingly intentional poisoning of the cistern, his only clean water source, pushes him over the edge into that act of violence. In this interpretation, the one-eyed seagull is in fact the reincarnation of Old’s previous subordinate, who he must have directly or indirectly killed. The gull, a legacy of Old’s past abuses, haunts the island and continues a cycle of abuse, manifesting in a campaign of terror against an accessible target, Young. Again, the lighthouse itself describes the power discrepancy - Old is safe from the gulls within the enclosed space of the lighthouse, while Young works outdoors and is subject to their abuses.

Upon the killing of the gull, the mystical forces of the sea turn upon the two men and their small island. The storm rages, trapping the men with each other. Young experiences hallucinations, of creatures and mermaids and trauma from his past. But rather than offering any real comfort for the young man in this difficult time, Old gaslights Young. Old intentionally messes with Young’s sense of reality and time, lying about how long they have been isolated and how events, both recent and in the past, have unfolded. He does this to position himself as a kindly ally, a stern but fair boss who is looking out for young, when in actuality he is manipulating him to continue working under unfair and dangerous conditions. We saw this early on, with Old chiding Young for not performing his cleaning duties. This deception, along with Old’s plying of Young with alcohol, keeps Young in a state of disorientation. Additionally, the doling out of affection by Old to Young during their drinking sessions helps to disguise the obvious power imbalances. Old at times plays the role of close friend, but only superficially. He helps in the physical labor, but only when the storm is coming and he is in danger. He shows friendliness to Young, but only in the context of mindless drinking sessions. That facade of friendliness can vanish easily though, like when Old launches into an impassioned curse of Young for a slight offense at his cooking.

Any moves to create a deeper bond are rebuffed. Indeed, when Young finally begins to open up to Old by telling him of his past trauma and guilt related to the death of a friend or coworker during his days as a lumberjack, Old scolds him for “spilling his beans.” Young finishes his story and finds himself alone, before launching into a phantasmagorical sequence that culminates in a shocking image of Old standing over him, naked, with his eyes shining like the lighthouse, looking down upon Young and judging his actions. The image conveys it all - Old and Young’s relationship is not one of friends or allies, but inherently hierarchical, like that of a boss and a worker or a prison warden and a prisoner, and all other elements of their relationship serve only to facilitate that power dynamic.

So, Young’s violent reversal of the power dynamics is expected. Young’s violent outburst is precipitated by the discovery of Old’s log. In it, Old documented falsities regarding Young’s work ethic, claiming he failed in his duties and should be severed without pay. The ultimate offense, that he would have endured all this work for no benefit, pushes Young over the edge. His pain and frustration reaches a feverish high, as he sees flashing images of the mermaid, his dead lumberjack acquaintance, and Old himself as a terrible sea god, a true representation of how Young views his domineering superior. Lashing out, Young humiliates Old and ultimately kills him, before finally ascending to the top of the lighthouse. There, he encounters the unknown, sublime glory of the lighthouse. In a cruel twist of fate, before he can even fully enter, Young slips and falls back to the bottom and dies as seagulls peck away him.

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This interpretation mostly works, but there are holes. Old and Young’s dynamic is imbalanced, but neither character fits their respective archetype neatly. Old is strict, but at points he is also mentoring and nearly affectionate. He comes across more as kooky and eccentric, more so than a willfully manipulative authority. Like, his many stories of his past, some of which are contradictory - is the audience truly meant to understand these airy tall tales by an old man as insidious gaslighting?

Young does not neatly fit the role of a victim either. His dark past is haunting him from his arrival on the island, with his visions of logs in the water. It is tied to his guilt in the death of the original Ephraim Winslow, which suggests that perhaps Young is deserving in some way of his fate. Indeed, the near comical death of Young by tumbling down the stairs of the lighthouse is in stark contrast to the ascendant and liberating moment that this theory would suggest the moment ought to be.

Let’s try another approach.

X - As an exploration of guilt and denial

Hypothesis: Young is a rotted soul from the outset, burdened by his past experiences and yet in denial about how his own flaws caused them. Old’s efforts to build camaraderie and enforce discipline in the wild Young backfire terribly.

For this interpretation, we assume that Young’s perspective, which we as the audience view most of the film through, is biased and unreliable. He perceives Old and the forces on the island as evil and unjustly set out to destroy him, since it is a more comfortable narrative than facing his own faults.

As Young says of himself, he came to this lighthouse position because he heard it paid good money relative to the time invested. The farther away from shore, the more money a wickie earns per shift. He arrives closed off and asocial, hoping to get through the coming weeks quietly and quickly. He immediately rebuffs Old’s friendly welcome. He denies the alcohol to maintain emotional distance, but also to gain a position of moral superiority. Upon sensing the kind of man Young is, Old takes a firm stance with him. Naturally, being older and more experienced, Old delegates the more labor intensive work to Young. He also retains exclusive access to the lighthouse. It is in part an eccentricity of Old, that he enjoys the freedom and privacy of this space, but also because it is the most important part of their jobs. Maintaining the life-saving light is of central importance, and until Young proves himself capable and diligent, Old keeps that job to himself.

In this interpretation, the lighthouse is perceived by Young as a seat of power. He views his position as a subordinate to Old as oppressive and unfair, despite the fact that there is no real alternative. Old is simply more experienced, and Young has much to learn from him. In actuality, the lighthouse and Old’s place atop it is representative of moral correctness. Young could ascend to the top of the lighthouse, given time and patience. Old says as much, the night before they are supposed to leave the island, stating that Young will make a fine wickie one day. Young has all the potential to succeed in his position, but his delusional ambition lead to his ruin.

Young frequently looks up in contempt at Old in the lighthouse as he toils on the ground, feeling his eyes judging him. And Old is watching him, but not with the cruel eyes of a taskmaster, but of a mentor who wants to guide his student. Young wants to invert their positions, seize the moral high ground to be able to look down upon Old. He tries it on their first meal by refusing alcohol, and he gets a taste for it early on when replacing the shingles above their bedroom. Peering in from the roof down onto Old, lying butt up and farting, Young feels indignant at having to be ordered about by a small old man, despite the fact that he obviously needs direction, both in his job and in his morals.

Indeed, it doesn’t take long for Young to show his deficiencies as a worker. He fails to clean the cottage effectively, even lying about it when confronted, and Old reprimands him accordingly. Young is also terribly stubborn. When Old asks that he bring him oil up to the top of the lighthouse, Young lugs a whole tank up the stairs. Had he simply asked the more experienced Old for advice or clarification, he would have learned he could use a smaller canister. While this moment solidifies Young’s perception of Old as a cruel taskmaster, that is easily disproven. Old handles all of the cooking for the both of them, a fact that Young is dismissive of (his expression of disgust for Old’s cooking later on resulting in a powerful and comical display of anger by Old). And when Young actually bothers to ask for help, when they must board up the cottage before the storm, Old gives it readily. They are seen nailing in boards collaboratively, a vision of what could be if Young let go of his ego.

Young nearly makes it through their time together, but on the eve of their return, he breaks one of Old’s most important rules and kills a seagull. Perhaps this seagull is truly a soul of a seaman, maybe even Old’s former partner, now antagonizing Young. Or perhaps this too is an imagined slight against him, a further delusion of Young who has no framework to view the world other than as a series of personal attack against him. Ultimately, the gull did little to Young. Blocked his way, tapped on his window, maybe at worst intentionally polluted his water source, but Young was going to leave soon regardless. The outburst of violence, beating the bird well past its death, demonstrates the fragility of Young’s ego. A couple inconveniences by a small bird and he loses his mind. And for his arrogance, he brings on the sea’s wrath.

As the storm rages, Young increasingly loses his grip on reality. First, his sense of time breaks, to Old’s concern, and his hallucinations and dreams become more frequent and intense. He and Old take to drinking themselves silly to get through the arduous experience, and at points, they share a level of camaraderie. Young’s wall of self-isolation is broken down somewhat by being forced into extended, close proximity to Old. They sing and dance and laugh in giddy, alcohol induced hazes, but Young can never fully commit himself to a friendship with Old. In a telling scene, after a night of drinking, the two are embracing, almost romantically, before Young pushes Old off of him and initiates a fistfight. Playful, perhaps, but also protective. Young takes precautions to maintain emotional distance. Throughout all of this, Young still seeks to ascend to the lighthouse, even contemplating killing Old to get the key.

We get a peek into the depths of who Young is when in drunk and emotionally unsteady state, he reveals the meaning behind some of the hallucinations he has been experiencing. During his time as a lumberjack, Young says he watched a fellow worker named Ephraim Winslow fall into the waters and get crushed amidst the floating logs. Young subsequently assumed his name after fleeing his job as a lumberjack. Young claims he didn’t kill Winslow, but he also notes that he considered how easy it would have been to push Winslow into the waters. Young, in all likelihood, did kill Winslow intentionally to take his identity, but refuses to take responsibility for it. This is a recurring behavior pattern with Young - seeking to elevate himself in life, but either seeking to find a shortcut, or refusing to accept the responsibly of the work needed to get himself there. He fled lumberjacking for being too physically taxing, hoping to make quicker money by serving at a lighthouse. He neglects his duties on the island, lying to both Old and himself about the quality of the work he has done. And to justify his lack of progress, he imagines a grand, supernatural conspiracy of forces beset against him, lead by Old.

Young has built up Old in his mind as a terrible, nearly demonic figure. Old is eccentric, to be sure, but most of what Young imagines is projection of his own faults. While stealthily observing him in the lighthouse, Young imagines Old either transforming into, or entwined with a tentacled sea creature, in some sort of arcane pleasure ritual. It is all imagined though, as Old was simply pleasuring himself in the privacy of the lighthouse. Somewhat odd perhaps, but Young too pleasures himself in privacy, in the shed to a carving of a mermaid. He projects his own sexual fantasies, which he may be frustrated and embarrassed of, onto Old. Similarly, after attempting to recklessly flee the island, he confronts Old with a wild conspiracy theory. He claims that Old killed his former wickie and is using the mermaid statue to bind him in perpetuity to the island. The notion of having killed a colleague is pulled straight from Young’s own experience of having killed, or at least been complicit in, the death of Winslow. In order to avoid confronting his guilt, Young deludes himself into thinking that Old is as bad as he wishes he wasn’t.

Throughout all of this, Old is accommodating. He placates Young with drink and merriment, hoping to get through the storm safely. But Young finally cracks just as the storm breaks, upon discovering Old’s log book. In it, he finds the most terrifying thing imaginable - definitive proof of his failings. Old has documented Young’s lackluster performance in the role of a wickie, noting his many infractions and recommending severance without pay. It is like the ominous dream he had earlier in the film, of Old with glowing lighthouse eyes standing over him and the dead body of himself - Young has killed his own chances of success, and Old has been witness to it, seeing with illuminating eyes. Young is at last forced to confront his personal failings, no longer able to deny responsibility for his own actions, no longer able to hide behind the comfortable tale of an unfair world set out to destroy him, no longer able to blame Old for his misery. Young cannot handle it, and he lashes out, just as he likely did before to Winslow. His visions flash before his eyes as he unleashes his frustrations on Old, of the mermaid he wishes to hold, of the man he killed and wishes to be, of a sea-god version of Old who he wishes he could blame for his troubles.

Young humiliates Old by reenacting his immature perception of their relationship, in which a superior treats his subordinate like a dog. Old, nearly dead and finally able to give up on helping Young, attempts to kill Young, but Young easily disarms and kills him. Young ascends to the lighthouse, and laughs ecstatically upon viewing the light, only to slip and tumble to the bottom, where he is last seen being picked at by gulls. It’s fitting. The lighthouse is a place of moral clarity, for those self-assured in their right to be there. The lighthouse rejects Young since he cheated his way to the top.

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This interpretation largely works as well, but it too has holes. Mainly, Old does not easily fit the role of mentor or moral center to the story. His changing stories of his life could simply be the innocent confusions of an elderly man, but their contradictions suggest a level of condescension. Old is also a poor leader and is, if not actively cruel, at least negligent. Forcing Young to paint the lighthouse is dangerous, and his lack of assistance in the various maintenance tasks is questionable. And while Young is obviously troubled, Old’s only responses are either drinking or trying to enforce strict discipline.

Perhaps the answer is elsewhere.

X - As somewhere in between

Hypothesis: Both Old and Young are flawed from the outset. Old is manipulative and condescending, and Young is fragile man who is in denial of his violent and jealous impulses.

The inherent ambiguity of the storytelling suggests that the answer may lie in between the two extremes I have presented. The legitimacy of Young’s perception of the world invites the audience to question what they see, consider the faults and virtues of both of the characters. The ultimate deaths of the two of them is not simply the result of one antagonizing the other, but the unfortunate result of two flawed men being pushed together and bouncing off one another. If even one of them had played things differently, been more understanding or accommodating, perhaps things would have gone differently.

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I don’t really like this as a conclusion to my analysis though. It puts the film in a wishy-washy position of ‘both sides are wrong,’ or even worse, ‘take what you want from this story.’ The ambiguity of the story’s reality seems to relieve it of any need to make an actual point. It puts out a lot of interesting imagery, and a variety of curious character interactions, and leaves it up to the audience to string together any message they wish to find.

It could be a story about unjust power structures, or a story about the need for order and discipline.

It could be a story about the cruelty of a capitalistic system that exploits the young and able-bodied for their labor, or it could a story about how hard work and patience are the best virtues.

It could be a story about the hell of living around other people in the vein of Jean-Paul Sartre, or it could be about how the only way to survive the extreme isolation of the world is to find comfort in those around you.

The movie can readily present any of these diametrically opposed messages. I find it difficult to care when the movie is as slippery as this. Its very structure seems to resent the notion of being pinned down on any of the ideas that it raises. The movie wants you take it seriously, with it’s oppressive soundscape, and deliberate visuals, and precisely acted dialogue that tries to capture the speech patterns of the time. But for all that technical achievement, its content amounts to little more than, “Hey, this is pretty weird, huh?”