Legend has it that it’s bad luck to kill a seabird, as they are thought to carry the souls of dead sailors. Robert Eggers’s second feature, The Lighthouse, uses this and other bits of maritime lore as inspiration for an enchanting and grueling tale of men, companionship, and the mighty sea. An old lighthouse keeper (Willam Dafoe) and his new apprentice (Robert Pattinson) work a daily routine off a New England shore—that is, until secrets, isolation, and mythical visions begin to fester, eventually leaving their minds undone. Dafoe and Pattinson each give the performance of a lifetime, singing sea shanties piss-drunk until their lungs give out and making mumbles feel like Shakespeare, all while covered in shit, mud, and anything vile you can conjure. The visceral, disgusting, and irrefutably maddening theatrics of The Lighthouse are entrancing enough to have viewers happily giving themselves over to a beckoning siren by film’s end.