Tribeca 2024 - Film Review

Seafaring superstition feeds delusory paranoia in this horror-tinged psychothriller that both fascinates and frustrates.

Intrepid sailor Emily is following the family tradition of solo navigating the globe. Contrary to her grandfather’s mantra, “There are no dangerous seas, just dangerous sailors”, she is swallowed by a humungous wave.

Battered and badly scarred she wakes up on a wind-lashed lighthouse rock in the South Pacific. The only other inhabitant is the keeper, an ex-marine eccentric named Ismael. Confused and isolated Emily forges a bond of trust with her saviour as she waits to be airlifted to civilisation. However, the instructions to lock her door at night and NEVER brush her hair are preludes to a deeply uncertain destiny.

The intimate chamber-piece nature of Beacon frees up the budget for a pretty spectacular opening. Yet, it is the riveting cycle of suspicion, revelation and confounding counter-evidence that follows where the real thrills lie.

This portion of the film is a joy as we become privy to the peaks and troughs of reliance and resentment in tandem with the stranded Emily. She has no sounding board for her blossoming paranoia save for the howling wind and our viewership. Subsequently, the film drags us into the escalating madness by questioning our appetite for trust and preference for cynicism.

Much depends on the developing dynamic between Emily and Ismael and Julia Goldani Telles and Demián Bichir respectively enhance this by giving them layers of salty authenticity. Their ability to convey the surliness of scepticism, the gratitude of safety, and the nervy idiosyncrasies of humans under psychological pressure constantly shifts our sympathies.

It is when the superstitious elements of the story rise to the surface that the movie hits choppy waters. In horror , we have seen similar setups before. The most natural touchstone is Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse. In truth, Beacon has much closer comparisons with Xavier Gens’ siren flick Cold Skin, though it is less bombastic and much more ambiguous.

This ambiguity is problematic because Beacon is most rewarding when it retains focus and narrative clarity. Yes, the final reveal is relatively clever and edgy, however, after torturing the viewer with a deliciously sneaky storyline Beacon would have benefited from a less interpretable finale.

Director Roxy Shih‘s intimate power struggle picture draws on familiar genre tropes, infusing them with nuanced undercurrents of gender politics. She is a credible craftswoman who clearly understands the cinematic milage garnered by the camaraderie and humanism that emerge during physical and mental hardships.

Talented writer Julio Rojas has heavy science fiction leanings and one wonders if compromises struck between himself and Shih led to the tonal unevenness. His script has strong dialogue and believable interactions but stabs wildly in the direction of mythological mania, and prods unconvincingly when it reaches monster movie territory.

Beacon often finds itself floundering between genres but it is a beautifully constructed film that asks difficult questions about survival instincts and even harder ones about the mechanics of trust. Horror fans who relish misdirection and enjoy mystery-solving will find Shih’s tricksy picture rewarding.