The Light Between Oceans
(B or 3/4 stars)
If you're in the mood for an old-fashioned tear-jerker, 'The Light Between Oceans' (directed & co-adapted from a novel by Derek Cianfrance, Blue Valentine, The Place Beyond the Pines) would be a fine choice. The year is 1919 when this film introduces us to taciturn WWI vet, Tom Sherbourne (Michael Fassbender), who - wanting some much needed solitude - takes a job as a lighthouse keeper on the remote, windswept Janus Rock, an isle off Australia's western coast. During a brief stay on the mainland, he meets & falls for villager, Isabel Graysmark (Alicia Vikander), who excitedly agrees to be his wife. She travels to said lighthouse, settles down, & they create their own little idyllic world on the barren island, set apart from the rest of humanity except when a supply ship comes rolling in. Attempts to have children, however, are painfully unsuccessful. Isabel gets pregnant twice and, on both occasions, loses the baby in horrifying fashion {get the Kleenex out}.
But the winds of fate would come blasting their way. One day - on lookout - Tom spots a tiny boat being thrashed by the rough seas off the coastline. He swims out, hauls it ashore and, what he finds inside are a dead man & a crying infant. Dutiful Tom's instinct is to report this incident, but bereft Isabel insists, pleas, & ultimately convinces him to pretend that this baby is theirs (adoption isn't possible. No agency would allow a baby being raised there). Overcoming some remorse at falsifying his daily log/records, Tom acquiesces to Isabel's request. For a time, they're a happy family of 3 but, during a visit to the mainland for baby Lucy's christening, Tom discovers that the lost-at-sea babe was presumed dead and is being mourned by her real mother, Hannah Roennfeldt (Rachel Weisz). Unable to cope with Hannah's grief, he makes an impulsive decision that threatens his marriage, his daughter's livelihood and, possibly ... his life.
Aside from a slow-going opening act - which, while it may feel tedious at the time, reaps fruitful rewards later on when the story's moral twists & turns take hold - I really admired this simultaneously gloomy, yet emotionally intense "weeper". Characters make devastatingly bad decisions for love; love for a spouse, love for a child. Understandable, but then they must cope with the ramifications of those ill-advised decisions. Before I tackle the strong themes & performances present in this story, I must mention the craftwork on display. Adam Arkapaw's cinematography is exquisite; with Australia's gorgeous (and varied) landscapes matching the epic tale of beauty, pain, & heartache that the story tells. I also think the sound design is awards-worthy. The wind, the battering sea, some hushed dialogue, screams being drowned out by a violent storm, a lush musical score by Alexandre Desplat ... the sonic mix & editing in this film is superb.
Contrivances & wrenching melodrama aside, the wonderful performances go a long way in making it all feel as authentic as possible. Fassbender is excellent as the initially-withdrawn Tom, whose brutal war experiences have tortured his psyche. We understand why he'd take this lighthouse gig to escape the carnage of civilization. It's nice to see him open-up around Isabel & his baby, but then to see him wallow in misery during the last act is gut-wrenching to watch; we feel for him. Alicia Vikander's Isabel is Tom's opposite - open, alive, & outwardly expressive - but that's why their chemistry works so well {that they're a real-life couple doesn't hurt}. Her Isabel is a complex character because: while we find her likeable & lovely, and we hurt for her in those gut-wrenching miscarriage scenes, we also contemplate her questionable decisions & complicity in late goings-on. Lastly, Rachel Weisz rivets as the grief-stricken mother with an interesting back story and a plethora of reasons to question her own definition of what it means to be a mother.
Although the 2nd half of this film is more plot-driven & emotionally rich than the 1st, I kinda dug the slow burn early scenes. There's something evocative about the notion of a man being willingly isolated to care for a lighthouse. The scenes with Tom alone and then later with him & Isabel in their joint isolation are hypnotic. The lighthouse is simultaneously unwelcoming, yet comforting. The isle is lonesome, but at the same time ... it's their home. As 'Light ...' drew to its bittersweet conclusion, I heard plenty of sniffles all around me. It is manipulative, sorrowful; brutal in its depiction of people torn apart. And yet, the narrative explores interesting themes of grief, death, guilt, motherhood, marriage ... even forgiveness & redemption.
It also brings up interesting philosophical questions. Is what Isabel & Tom did "kidnapping"? When a child's well-being is at stake, should there be leniency for criminals? And what constitutes being a parent? I didn't know who to blame, which of the 3 main characters to pull for in the end and, don't even know what I'd do if in their shoes. Although, 'The Light between Oceans' doesn't shy from misery & tragedy, there's something life-affirming at its center. And for me, I appreciate that this well-made, serious melodrama has arrived, because we're living in a movie-going era when those specific genre qualities are - unfortunately - a dying breed.
But the winds of fate would come blasting their way. One day - on lookout - Tom spots a tiny boat being thrashed by the rough seas off the coastline. He swims out, hauls it ashore and, what he finds inside are a dead man & a crying infant. Dutiful Tom's instinct is to report this incident, but bereft Isabel insists, pleas, & ultimately convinces him to pretend that this baby is theirs (adoption isn't possible. No agency would allow a baby being raised there). Overcoming some remorse at falsifying his daily log/records, Tom acquiesces to Isabel's request. For a time, they're a happy family of 3 but, during a visit to the mainland for baby Lucy's christening, Tom discovers that the lost-at-sea babe was presumed dead and is being mourned by her real mother, Hannah Roennfeldt (Rachel Weisz). Unable to cope with Hannah's grief, he makes an impulsive decision that threatens his marriage, his daughter's livelihood and, possibly ... his life.
Aside from a slow-going opening act - which, while it may feel tedious at the time, reaps fruitful rewards later on when the story's moral twists & turns take hold - I really admired this simultaneously gloomy, yet emotionally intense "weeper". Characters make devastatingly bad decisions for love; love for a spouse, love for a child. Understandable, but then they must cope with the ramifications of those ill-advised decisions. Before I tackle the strong themes & performances present in this story, I must mention the craftwork on display. Adam Arkapaw's cinematography is exquisite; with Australia's gorgeous (and varied) landscapes matching the epic tale of beauty, pain, & heartache that the story tells. I also think the sound design is awards-worthy. The wind, the battering sea, some hushed dialogue, screams being drowned out by a violent storm, a lush musical score by Alexandre Desplat ... the sonic mix & editing in this film is superb.
Contrivances & wrenching melodrama aside, the wonderful performances go a long way in making it all feel as authentic as possible. Fassbender is excellent as the initially-withdrawn Tom, whose brutal war experiences have tortured his psyche. We understand why he'd take this lighthouse gig to escape the carnage of civilization. It's nice to see him open-up around Isabel & his baby, but then to see him wallow in misery during the last act is gut-wrenching to watch; we feel for him. Alicia Vikander's Isabel is Tom's opposite - open, alive, & outwardly expressive - but that's why their chemistry works so well {that they're a real-life couple doesn't hurt}. Her Isabel is a complex character because: while we find her likeable & lovely, and we hurt for her in those gut-wrenching miscarriage scenes, we also contemplate her questionable decisions & complicity in late goings-on. Lastly, Rachel Weisz rivets as the grief-stricken mother with an interesting back story and a plethora of reasons to question her own definition of what it means to be a mother.
Although the 2nd half of this film is more plot-driven & emotionally rich than the 1st, I kinda dug the slow burn early scenes. There's something evocative about the notion of a man being willingly isolated to care for a lighthouse. The scenes with Tom alone and then later with him & Isabel in their joint isolation are hypnotic. The lighthouse is simultaneously unwelcoming, yet comforting. The isle is lonesome, but at the same time ... it's their home. As 'Light ...' drew to its bittersweet conclusion, I heard plenty of sniffles all around me. It is manipulative, sorrowful; brutal in its depiction of people torn apart. And yet, the narrative explores interesting themes of grief, death, guilt, motherhood, marriage ... even forgiveness & redemption.
It also brings up interesting philosophical questions. Is what Isabel & Tom did "kidnapping"? When a child's well-being is at stake, should there be leniency for criminals? And what constitutes being a parent? I didn't know who to blame, which of the 3 main characters to pull for in the end and, don't even know what I'd do if in their shoes. Although, 'The Light between Oceans' doesn't shy from misery & tragedy, there's something life-affirming at its center. And for me, I appreciate that this well-made, serious melodrama has arrived, because we're living in a movie-going era when those specific genre qualities are - unfortunately - a dying breed.