visual

Onie 2022-03-21 09:01:53

Sometimes it's really hard for me to judge whether some already disgusting things become more disgusting and terrifying when they become black and white, or whether the visual impact is weakened. You may think that the original blood-splashed image would be easier to accept if it were turned into black and white? In fact, this is not the case when watching this film. The sense of horror has not weakened at all, but it has become darker and colder. While visually grueling, it's nothing compared to what the two protagonists suffer. When watching it, I only feel that the two actors really paid a lot for the film, and it is hard to imagine what they experienced in some scenes. He threw himself into a shit hole and was driven into a madman. I feel that Rob Pattinson is very involved in the performance, and he put away his shy smile, regardless of appearance and voice, he is out of himself, and it is guaranteed that you will feel his sadness and pain from beginning to end. I do agree that both male leads deserve the Oscars for their acting, but I definitely don't want to see this movie a second time. Even I don't think it's for everyone, it's very experimental, it seems too convulsive, and you keep asking yourself while watching: "Why am I torturing myself with such a crazy and nauseating movie?! "

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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'.