Labor As The Mechanism Of Conflict In Robert Eggers’ THE LIGHTHOUSE

Warning! Somewhat significant spoilers for Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse follow!

The Lighthouse, Robert Eggers’ latest New-England soul squeezer has garnered a lot of attention for the frequently incredible sense of surrealism it manages to conjure. By the film’s end the audience has reason to doubt the reality of any of the elements, if not the entire film. Consider, for instance, Ephraim Winslow’s (Robert Pattinson) relationship with a particularly galling seagull, or his sexual tryst with a mermaid who may figuratively or literally represent Willem Dafoe’s character Thomas Wake, or Thomas’ religious obsession with the light, the film’s bonkers ending, or even something as simple as the chronology of events. It all provides plenty of meat for a Jungian interpretation.

Poor, Poor Exploited Winslow.

Underneath the surreal sheen is a character relationship irrevocably connected to labor. Consider when Winslow discovers that Wake’s accounts of the quality of his work is a gross misrepresentation and Thomas’ recommendation that he not get paid is the ultimate betrayal. This revelation partly catalyzes the final confrontation but it also reveals how labor, more than myth and legend and old sea tales, really functions as the engine for the film’s conflict.

The Lighthouse contains horrifying mermaids and brutal imagery  and an impossible chronology yet what sends these characters off the rails is an oddly specific scene where a worker takes issue with his manager’s behavior. Its remarkable in  its simplicity. The tactile reality of that moment is striking– in a film where losing ones grip on reality is a constant threat, spending time worrying whether Winslow will get paid is almost ridiculous in it’s practicality. The Lighthouse is a film that denies easy interpretations– but this moment is what sets off the final bout of the film’s nightmarish conflict, catapulting it to it’s conclusion. Placing it there suggests an intersection of labor exploitation and the film’s larger nightmare. It’s not that the real horror is unpaid labor– it’s more that labor exploitation breaks social bonds, creating a nightmarish landscape wherein monsters lay.

This isn’t the only moment where labor incites conflict either. Earlier when I called Thomas a manager, I wasn’t just using a figure of speech– he quite literally manages Winslow, frequently commanding him do one thing or another. His power over Winslow seems rather arbitrary, as at the film’s start Winslow seems to have the understanding that they’ll split the work 50/50, but is shocked to find out that Thomas expects him to do everything except babysit the light, a task which Thomas reveres, and therefore greedily keeps for himself. Thomas also does the cooking. While it’s never invoked within the film, it’s easy to see how managing both of their food consumption gives Thomas power over Winslow, quite literally.

What Power Does That Light Hold?

The significance of the light in the film is also worth investigating– it takes on many meanings throughout. There’s a definite religiosity to Thomas’ reverence, giving the light this sense that it holds enlightenment, some higher truth that we cannot fathom. Then, of course, there’s the Promethean sense, wherein the light represents something that everyone deserves to have.

But there’s also has a very real, tactile way to understand it: the light is quite literally what gives the lighthouse its value. It’s why they’re there. If it weren’t, neither man would be paid to mind that island. It serves as the capital, the mechanism that produces value. By hoarding it, Thomas effectively establishes himself as it’s owner, or the capitalist. This is reinforced both by Thomas’ monopoly over cooking, if Winslow fights back Thomas may just refuse to feed him, and by Thomas’ co opting of the  log book. Thomas effectively owns Winslow’s labor, and therefore his livelihood, and can terminate it at a whim.

This wouldn’t be a huge problem if Thomas respected Winslow, but it’s frequently made clear that Thomas has nothing but contempt for the younger man. He demands Winslow live up to his ever shifting standards, he lashes out if Winslow so much as asks about the light, he doesn’t give him any sort of training, he forces him to just figure it out as he goes, gets defensive when his cooking is questioned, and finally violates Winslow’s personal boundaries by forcing him to drink.

The film comes to suggest a connection between the nightmares that Winslow experiences on the island and Thomas’ toxic behavior. Its worth noting that not everything Thomas does is nasty. The Lighthouse gets a lot of mileage out of the level of closeness these men are forced to share; whether its the frequent farting, the sharing of meals, sleeping across from each other, or when Winslow silently watches Thomas sleep (and touch himself), these men’s existence is far more intimate than any normal pair of coworkers. But none of these instances push Winslow over the edge the way laborious work does.

It’s unclear whether or not this familial dynamic could’ve endured if Thomas hadn’t been trying to deprive Winslow of his wages. What is clear is that the exposure of Thomas’ misdeeds is what threw them off the edge. What then, does all this tell us? That in previously incendiary social systems, labor disagreements will be the final match to gasoline? That the world will burn, and it’ll be capitalism fault?

I doubt it.

So, what does it all mean?

Considering this analysis is far from comprehensive, it’s really unclear; little has been said about the mermaid, the seagull, or the story’s mythic resonances. The thematic territory covered in the film’s is truly staggering, it seems to claim the entirety of human history as its playground, having one, all encompassing understanding of the film is as impossible as understanding the entirety of human history.

But what is interesting, is that in a film that so clearly operates on such abstract, metaphorical levels, the base conflict is about wages and labor. They don’t fight because Winslow wanted to keep the mermaid for himself, or because The Light told Thomas to kill Winslow, or because they don’t know what day it is. They fight because Thomas is a lazy manager, who gives himself the easiest tasks while putting everything else onto Winslow. The Lighthouse seems to think that in the totality of human experience, labor relations are the foundation to the fabric of our society. If that’s true, I can only hope we compromise better than these salty sea men. After all, if you were trapped on an island for longer than expected with the worst manager ever, wouldn’t you go a bit stir-crazy?

The Lighthouse released October 18th in the U.S., and drops January 31st in the U.K.