The Lighthouse Review: Are We Not Mad?

When The Lighthouse finished, I was left bewildered. What had I just witnessed? Certainly, something momentous had occurred, but for the life of me, I couldn’t put my finger on it. The film is replete with innuendo. Its suggestions so cryptic, its barrelchested exterior so bald-faced. On its surface, Robert Eggers’ newest opus can be likened to his debut film The Witch. Both peddle in isolation, superstition, and…