The Lighthouse (2019) Review
The first thing that came into my mind was obviously going to be every black and white horror movie I've ever reviewed (or at least the ones that truly stuck with me). The benefit of black and white horror is that it taps into the very essence of the genre's cinematic roots. Even if the oldest horror movie I've seen thus far is Nosferatu I can still understand the feel of capturing that base monochromatic grayscale which would go on to evolve into stuff like Eraserhead, Begotten, or Tetsuo. It's not so much a case of less is more as it is of working with one's limits. Something which The Lighthouse really excells at as it recalls as much the formers as Hitchcock's most psychologically morose works and Kubrick's most disturbing yet poetic 80s films. The best way to see this movie is very much as a psychological horror that happens to use that as a repository for a teeter tottering between melodramatic build-up and slight yet effective visuals that recall The Last Winter minus the color. You almost even feel as though Eggers collaborated in secret with Elias Merhige to age the film into a 30s aesthetic that is all the more atmospheric, be it due to that same dozens of mise-en-scenes or DaFoe and Pattinson's masterful monologues that recall the early yet striking years of method acting. It's mostly a slow burn, though even as you see the ending coming it still makes sure to leave an impression by the end of each act.