“Should pale death with treble dread
make the ocean caves our bed.
God who hear’st the surges roll,
deign to save the suppliant soul.”
This maritimely toast is said three times throughout the entirety of Robert Eggers’ 2019 film The Lighthouse; twice by Thomas Wake (DaFoe) and once by Ephriam Winslow (Pattinson). Such emphasis begs the question of what the proverb truly means and why the filmmakers wanted the audience to notice its usage in the script. While subtitles may evoke an answer from prospective Jeopardy contestants, chances are that few would ever know it is an abridged excerpt from an 1845 poem by American poet Lydia Sigourney.
The last stanza of Sailor’s Hymn, at Parting goes as follows:
“Should pale death with arrow dread
Make the ocean caves our bed,
Though no eye of love might see
Where that shrouded grave shall be,
Thou! who hear’st the surges roll,
Deign to save the suppliant soul.”
The whole poem is essentially a collection of pleas to be made to God in a common variety of daunting scenarios for sailors in the 1800s. The final scenario is unquestionable death … a cry for help and salvation from God for when the ship is sinking and all hope is lost to the murky depths.
Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse was my personal favorite movie of the year … its hauntingly symbolistic visuals and masterfully-written, allegorical storytelling is a rare gem in today’s market. Yet, I lament the fact that despite 2019 being a marked year for independent filmmaking, The Lighthouse failed to achieve wider acclaim in the same year as the notorious Gillette commercial.
Pulling apart the many layers of the Lighthouse isn’t a walk in the park; there’s a lot of both visual and literary symbolism at play. After my first viewing, it suddenly came as less of a shock to see that the film did not receive the reception it most-certainly deserved, because the themes of the film do not make themselves obvious to the naked eye. It is a film that absolutely does not allow you to walk away after seeing it for the first time without asking “huh?!” … in other words, it’s a complicated movie.
But, Eggers’ recent black-and-white, Nosferatu-esque nostalgia-rush attempts to prove that we stand to gain from discussing the deluded, inhuman and oftentimes disturbing causes and effects of fragile masculinity in relation to one’s character and self-identity. However, the audience and box office reception of The Lighthouse proves to me that we are still too afraid to deeply explore the dimly-lit prison of masculinity in an age where we as a society are hyper aware of its threat to great progress.
In case the phallic imagery of two men trapped in a lighthouse during a near-apocalyptic squall isn’t enough to drive home the point, the aforementioned poem eclipses the idea perfectly. As far as the audience knows, the very first words either Wake or Winslow have said to one another is DaFoe’s character toasting over dinner in the name of salvation by his Lord. Much like the sailors in the final stanza of Sigourney’s poem, this first line reveals that DaFoe and Pattinson are both stuck on the sinking ship of their own identities.
At surface level, the Lighthouse is nothing more than an allegorical portrayal of the greek mythological characters of Prometheus and Proteus. But at a deeper level, the movie is a metaphor for fragile masculinity and the way it aggressively pits males against one another to achieve dominance, which can only be broken through synthetic and forceful means. It also stands to reason that the film addresses the generational aspect of fragile masculinity, made evident by the naming of Wake and Winslow as “Old” and “Young” in the official screenplay.
Wake — Old — is a grumpy, gross and garrulous “expert” in his field as a lighthouse keeper, who alleges to have been a sea captain before breaking his leg many years before. Of course, this backstory is later revealed to be one that Wake made up in a fashion similar to Don Quixote, subsequently portraying Wake as nothing more than a manipulative, sad husk of a man in deplore of his own life story. Meanwhile, Winslow — Young — is also not who he claims to be. Having actually assumed the identity of a man he allowed to die during a workplace accident as a timberman, Thomas Howell (Pattinson’s character’s actual name) gave up his old life at the drop of a hat and human life so that he could reassume the dignity he believed he had lost when he cowardly let the real Ephriam Winslow die.
The symbolism of the lighthouse lamp and the attraction both men have to it represents an arbitrary and meaningless goal of success. DaFoe already has what Pattinson wants and knows this, so he puts off an exterior of being wise and fortunate. But, what he truly possesses is as phony as his claims of success as a sea captain, so he reacts with malicious manipulation and criticism of Winslow. Wake constantly gaslights Winslow whenever he is accused of misconduct, similar to how insecure males often belittle those they see as underneath them when called out.
I believe Eggers’ goal in this effort was to create echoes of corporate America through the eyes of males; the observation that we are all killing each other to reach an arbitrary point of success, thinking there is something to be gained from reaching the golden light at the top. The truth, however, is that there is nothing but a shiny, reflective object up there, and fighting like savages to reach it only brings about the effect of masochistic men emotionally isolating themselves to the furthest confines of their closed-off minds.
That aversion is not lost on Wake and Winslow though, at least not to their subconscious minds, which is why the two rely so much on alcohol to even survive that long in the script. By the point in the film that the island runs dry of booze, the two men resort to making a putrid concoction of turpentine and honey in a desperate act to remove the veils of their fragile identities despite having reached a point of near-murderous disgust for one another. Their self-images are so fragile that they need literal poison to bring down that veil of toughness in order to cling-to the only other person they have for support in a life-threatening scenario.
Doesn’t everybody know some dude who absolutely cannot express his love and appreciation for his friends until he’s shit house drunk? The same unfortunate character trait applies to Wake and Winslow; the two men are so fixed in their self-constructed prisons that they require synthetic needs to reduce aversion to the idea of opening up one’s heart to and placing trust in another person. Yet, even when the desire to connect with the other is so beyond control within Wake and Winslow that the two men almost share a tender kiss, they ferociously withdraw.
And this brings me back to the poem I mentioned at the very beginning of this review:
“Should pale death with treble dread
make the ocean caves our bed.
God who hear’st the surges roll,
deign to save the suppliant soul.”
Wake follows this up by raising his tin mug filled with drink to toast with Winslow’s, “to four weeks!” he says, but Winslow takes much convincing to raise his cup. His aversion has already settled in.
It may seem like the line “to four weeks!” is trying to foreshadow the dark clouds that lay just over the horizon for the two men, which is true, but that line is meaningless without the antecedent sea shanty. Wake isn’t saying “here’s to four jolly, stress-free weeks my friend!”, he’s actually saying “God save our souls from our own selves over these next four weeks!”
I’m not trying to throw a pity party for white males or anything, we’ve had our fun but now it’s time to let everyone else catch up. Toxic masculinity is a serious issue and as a white male myself I feel obligated to provide real help to the problem by condemning those who think the very idea of it’s existence is absurd.
It has ruinous effects on society that are currently taking place and will continue to worsen if not acknowledged. The mindset that fuels violent events like the Christchurch attack in New Zealand or the El Paso Walmart shooting is indicitive of a fragile, internalized perception in the identity of white males. In the discussion of mental health, alcoholism uniquely tends to affect males more than females; 58% to 46%, and when it comes to binge drinking, 23% to 12%, according to the CDC.
If we as males do not have the balls to stand up against the antiquated social standard of putting off a constantly-hardened exterior, then we are doomed to the same fate as Winslow.
