Whispers of the Old God

Connor 2022-03-20 09:01:44

Very stylized film, a suspenseful thriller in the context of Greek mythology, which can be interpreted in many ways from the audience's point of view; the forbidden lighthouse symbolizes patriarchy, the quarrel between two toms, like a son The struggle with his father; the little tom that was pecked by the seagulls was actually Prometheus who stole fire, and the lighthouse at this time seemed to symbolize the fire of wisdom; and if it is in the background of Kesulo, the story becomes, The little Tom who was seduced by Mr. Ke killed the old man and came into contact with the ancient gods, but the human brain could not bear the impact, and finally died of madness; while the images of other mermaids and sea kings and other various metaphors were added, the The film is closer to the mythological system, but from the director's interview, he does not seem to consider relying on the Cthulhu mythological system in the past. Anyway, there is one thing in common, that is, human beings fear the unknown. . .

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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'.