“The new wickies stand utterly still, next to each other,
their gazes fixed on the same distant spot.
One man is YOUNG (early 30s). Tall, athletic –- but starved.
His deep set eyes are haunted, and his left eye is healing
from a week-old shiner. His crooked expression is severe.
There’s an eerie disquiet about him. He’s like a dog that’s
been beaten and caged too many times. A small mustache shows
his vanity.
The other is OLD (Haggard 60? Spry 70?). He’s weathered,
feral bearded, and hunched, with hands like vises. His lack
of visible lips suggests some missing teeth. He tremors a
bit, but he’s lean and sturdy as a lead pipe. His high
cheekbones smile even when he grimaces. His wild eyes shine
like jewels. He’s an old Pan. A Satyr.
Both of them seem like the kind of man you might find
muttering to himself in the corner of an empty bar room with
a distant look in his eye.
They watch THE TENDER depart the island, ever-so-slowly
disappearing — swallowed up again by the fog.”
Quotation from The Lighthouse by Robert & Max Eggers.
I watched this for a third time yesterday evening. A hell of a lot more came at me than those earlier visits. This is a favourite. Great acting, script and direction. A uniquely curious bit of art! I cannot wait for Nosferatu.
trumanitarianmission 
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