Cold European Thriller

Kade 2022-04-20 09:01:41

A very interesting thriller. The use of European-style black and white cool tones is very suitable for the film. Many short clips create wonderful images. The use of the soundtrack is also quite good, but the overall expression is not so infiltrated into the bone marrow, which is quite regrettable. . All horror sources need to have a concrete idea, but I think this one is too shallow. The expression of the film overemphasizes a kind of spiritual horror shock, which weakens the deepening of the content. I think it seems to have thinking and blank space. Under the surface of the space, there is no in-depth establishment of what the director wants to highlight! It's a pity that the image has a score of 75. I think the overall use of the image is a kind of photographic construction, and I can't touch the style of the image! In short, there is no systematic style. The script is 70 points and the performance is 75 points. Both characters are very exciting, but under the horror, all you can see is the confrontation between fear and desire. Where is the fulcrum of the two characters? Robert Pattinson's transformation into an actor is still relatively successful, but the two roles themselves are not full enough! Director 75 points Innovation 70 points Score 73 points Content coefficient 0.75

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Extended Reading

The Lighthouse quotes

  • Thomas Wake: Keepin secrets eh?

    Ephraim Winslow: No sir

  • Thomas Wake: Yer fond of me lobster aint' ye? I seen it - yer fond of me lobster! Say it! Say it. Say it!

    Ephraim Winslow: I don't have to say nothin'.

    Thomas Wake: Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK!

    Thomas Wake: Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea!

    Ephraim Winslow: Alright, have it your way. I like your cookin'.