7 | / 10 |
| Users | 0.0 | |
| Reviewer | 2.0 | |
| Overall | 2.0 |
A decrepit lighthouse is manned solely by former sailors Hank Armitage and Sam Wells. Hank, crippled during the war, resents his young partner's visits to the shore, where he beds numerous girls working the docks. One down-on-her-luck blonde, Connie, thinks Sam could be her salvation from a life of poverty. Unknown to her, he already has a wife on the mainland. Discovering this, the enraged Connie marries hapless old Hank in a scheme to make the younger man jealous. The girl's plan works too well, and Sam attempts to murder his former friend. Seeing the old man close to death, Connie realizes it's Hank she really loves after all. But her understanding may come too late, as Sam vows that if he can't have the beautiful woman for his own, no one can.
Starring: Don Castle, June Lang, John Litel, Marion Martin| Romance | 100% |
| Drama | Insignificant |
Video codec: MPEG-4 AVC
Video resolution: 1080p
Aspect ratio: 1.37:1
Original aspect ratio: 1.37:1
English: DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono
English
Blu-ray Disc
Single disc (1 BD)
Region A (B, C untested)
| Movie | 2.0 | |
| Video | 2.0 | |
| Audio | 2.5 | |
| Extras | 0.0 | |
| Overall | 2.0 |
PRC may have officially stood for Producers Releasing Corporation, but some curmudgeons may have argued pretty effectively that the first two letters in the acronym could have just as easily been an abbreviation for Poverty Row. This tawdry 1947 drama from PRC would seem to be a noir on the face of things, but it really turns out to be more of a squalid romantic triangle, with some generally unlikable types, at least in terms of one of the men involved and perhaps even the central female. The film doesn't offer much excitement or suspense, and its limited budget means any thrilling location work is most definitely limited, but there are a few "meta" elements that may be deserving of further research on the part of some armchair enthusiasts, including the kind of sad trajectory of star June Lang's career, and a rather early example of Ernest Gold's scoring techniques, over a decade before his work on Exodus became a sensation and won him an Academy Award. The back cover also gives quick mention to German émigré director Frank Wisbar, who is probably generally unknown by most.


Lighthouse is presented on Blu-ray (BD-R, per Film Masters Archive Collection standard operating procedure) with an AVC encoded 1080p transfer in 1.37:1. Some of Film Masters' releases, whether on BD-R or actual pressed Blu-rays, can look pretty darned good, but this is not one of them. The element here is in rather shoddy condition, and it certainly seems far removed from any sort of primary source, and maybe even a secondary source. As can be seen in some of the screenshots I've uploaded to accompany this review, grain can resemble pock marks or swarms of small insects covering the frame, but probably more debilitating is both wonky contrast and some really blooming whites that can at least intermittently pretty much erase all detail, let alone fine detail. There is the expected retinue of scratches, nicks and warped frames throughout.

Things perhaps fare slightly better with this disc's DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono track. Unfortunately, some of Gold's cues are marred by distortion, pops, cracks and actually brief missing dropouts, but the good news is dialogue and some of the sound effects actually are rendered with decent clarity. Optional English subtitles are available.

There are no supplements of any kind on this disc.

To paraphrase the late, great Johnny Mercer, I'll "accentuate the positive" by saying at least this Lighthouse didn't force me to review The Lighthouse for the sixth time (I comically and/or horrifically got that film repeatedly in my review queue due to different specialty releases in different regions). I think Lighthouse might have resonated better had it had the courage of its seeming noir ambitions, but instead it just kind of comes off as an all wet (sorry) melodrama. Technical merits are about as underwhelming as the film.