Skip to main content

The Pale Blue Eye review: an unpredictable gothic thriller

Christian Bale stands near a river in The Pale Blue Eye.
The Pale Blue Eye
“Director Scott Cooper's The Pale Blue Eye is a fun, atmospheric gothic thriller that falls well short of greatness but still features two standout lead performances from Harry Melling and Christian Bale.”
Pros
  • Harry Melling's scene-stealing performance as Edgar Allan Poe
  • Christian Bale's layered lead performance
  • Masanobu Takayanagi's rich, gothic cinematography
Cons
  • A meandering second act
  • A disappointingly absurd third-act climax
  • An uneven tone throughout

The Pale Blue Eye is a visually rich, intentionally tricky gothic thriller. It’s the closest director Scott Cooper has ever come to making a purely straightforward piece of genre entertainment, though the film does occasionally veer into the same overwrought, melodramatic territory that so many of Cooper’s previous films have inhabited. While it doesn’t linger quite as long on its brutality or violence as 2017’s Hostiles or 2013’s Out of the Furnace, either, The Pale Blue Eye is still weighed down by the ideas about masculinity that have been at the heart of every single one of Cooper’s directorial efforts.

That said, there’s a sense of playfulness present in The Pale Blue Eye that helps separate it from Cooper’s prior explorations of American tragedy. Most of that lightheartedness comes from Harry Melling’s big, go-for-broke central performance, which only further cements him as one of Hollywood’s more versatile working actors. Although Cooper frequently struggles to marry the jovial, irreverent nature of The Pale Blue Eye’s story with his own filmmaking sensibilities, the resulting film still emerges as a curiously endearing gothic adventure.

Christian Bale holds a lantern in The Pale Blue Eye.
Scott Garfield/Netflix / Netflix

The Pale Blue Eye’s winking love for the macabre is evident in its opening shot, which slowly peels away several layers of fog to reveal the crooked silhouette of a dead man hanging from the branches of a bare tree. From there, the film, which is based on Louis Bayard’s 2003 novel of the same name, follows Augustus Landor (Christian Bale), a prickly private detective, as he is hired by a pair of West Point officials to look into said hanged man’s suspected murder. Along the way, Landor recruits the help of none other than Edgar Allan Poe (Melling), introduced as a young West Point cadet in The Pale Blue Eye, to help him unearth the truth of the film’s inciting death.

Before long, Landor and Poe find themselves investigating not just one death, but several, all of which quickly cause fear to spread throughout The Pale Blue Eye’s central, secluded version of 1830s New York. In true Edgar Allan Poe fashion, The Pale Blue Eye also combines its macabre detective story with a gothic love story that brings Melling’s Poe face to face with the beautiful but sickly Lea Marquis (Lucy Boynton). Poe’s relationship with Lea, along with Landor’s lingering grief over the public disappearance of his daughter, Mattie (Hadley Robinson), inevitably end up impacting both men in ways neither truly see coming.

What emerges as the real emotional core of The Pale Blue Eye isn’t Poe’s romance with Lea, but the father-son bond that slowly but surely develops between Melling’s boisterous poet and Bale’s mournful detective. Together, Bale and Melling make for a compelling, watchable pair. Bale, for his part, brings the same kind of gruffness and cynicism to his performance as Landor that he has in both of his previous films with Cooper. Fortunately, those qualities work well within the private eye mold that Augustus Landor is carved from. The Pale Blue Eye’s twisty final third also reveals layers to Bale’s performance that have the potential to make revisiting the film an even more rewarding experience than a first-time viewing provides.

Christian Bale and Harry Melling clink their glasses together in The Pale Blue Eye.
Scott Garfield/Netflix

Harry Melling, meanwhile, steals the show in The Pale Blue Eye as the film’s young, rebellious Edgar Allan Poe. Here, Melling is allowed to reenvision one of America’s most influential writers not just as a young man obsessed with death and the macabre, but also as a hopeless romantic who is just as eager to read aloud one of his original poems as he is to decode incomplete notes and hidden codes. Cooper, to his credit, effectively uses the juxtaposition of Melling’s lively energy and Bale’s somber performance to further highlight the subtleties of both stars’ performances.

Unfortunately, none of the other performances in The Pale Blue Eye work as well as Melling’s and Bale’s do. Despite featuring a murderers’ row of Hollywood character actors, including Timothy Spall, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Toby Jones, and Simon McBurney, many of The Pale Blue Eye’s supporting players either fail to match the tone and energy of Cooper’s script or are left stranded playing underwritten characters. The latter criticism is particularly true of Boynton’s Lea and Robert Duvall’s Jean-Pepe, both of whom aren’t explored deeply enough to become the interesting figures they could have been.

Cooper also struggles at times to nail down The Pale Blue Eye’s unwieldy tone. Outside of a few scenes featuring a ridiculously over-the-top performance from Gillian Anderson, the first two-thirds of The Pale Blue Eye cruise by fairly evenly. It’s in the film’s fiery third act, however, that Cooper seems to lose total tonal control over it. During one specific climactic set piece, Cooper attempts to ride the line between serious terror and gothic camp but fails to bring enough of either to the scene, which strands the sequence in an awkward tonal gray zone that never totally works.

The Pale Blue Eye | Official Trailer | Netflix

Cooper does manage to partially recover from his third-act mistakes in The Pale Blue Eye’s game-changing final scenes, which paint the events of the film in an interesting new light. Bale and Melling’s lead performances similarly provide The Pale Blue Eye with a cohesive quality that helps smooth over some of the ripples caused by its tonal inconsistencies. Cinematographer Masanobu Takayanagi also creates an invitingly moody aesthetic that emphasizes every bank of snow and dark shadowy corner that appears throughout the film — imbuing it with a richness and visual density that its script may not match, but which nonetheless helps reinforce The Pale Blue Eye’s status as a satisfying, lightweight gothic thriller.

The Pale Blue Eye premieres Friday, January 6 on Netflix.

Editors' Recommendations

Alex Welch
Alex is a TV and movies writer based out of Los Angeles. In addition to Digital Trends, his work has been published by…
Vesper review: an imaginative sci-fi adventure
Raffiella Chapman walks through a dystopian swamp alongside a flying drone in Vesper.

Vesper does a lot with a little. Despite being made on an obviously lower budget than most other modern sci-fi movies, the new film from directors Kristina Buozyte and Bruno Samper takes place in a futuristic, post-apocalyptic world that feels more well-realized, vivid, and imaginative than any of Hollywood’s current cinematic universes do. While its premise doesn’t do much to sell Vesper as a unique entry into the dystopian sci-fi genre, either, it doesn’t take long for its fictional alternate reality to emerge as a striking new vision of the future.

The film's opening shot throws viewers headfirst into a swampy, gray world that seems, at first, to be perpetually covered in fog. It's an image that makes Vesper’s connections to other industrialized sci-fi films like Stalker undeniably, palpably clear. However, once Vesper escapes the foggy wasteland of its opening scene, it begins to flesh out its futuristic reality with rich shades of greens and colorful plants that breathe and reach out toward any living thing that comes close to them. While watching the film does, therefore, often feel like you’re being led on a tour through an industrial hellscape, it also feels, at times, like a trip down the rabbit hole and straight into Wonderland.

Read more
Entergalactic review: a simple but charming animated romance
Three dudes cheer on a rooftop in Entergalactic.

Entergalactic isn’t like most other animated movies that you’ll see this year — or any year, for that matter. The film, which was created by Scott Mescudi a.k.a. Kid Cudi and executive producer Kenya Barris, was originally intended to be a TV series. Now, it’s set to serve as a 92-minute companion to Cudi’s new album of the same name. That means Entergalactic not only attempts to tell its own story, one that could have easily passed as the plot of a Netflix original rom-com, but it does so while also featuring several sequences that are set to specific Cudi tracks.

Beyond the film’s musical elements, Entergalactic is also far more adult than viewers might expect it to be. The film features several explicit sex scenes and is as preoccupied with the sexual politics of modern-day relationships as it is in, say, street art or hip-hop. While Entergalactic doesn’t totally succeed in blending all of its disparate elements together, the film’s vibrantly colorful aesthetic and infectiously romantic mood make it a surprisingly sweet, imaginative tour through a fairytale version of New York City.

Read more
God’s Creatures review: an overly restrained Irish drama
Paul Mescal stands outside a house with Emily Watson in God's Creatures.

From its chaotic, underwater first frame all way to its liberating, sun-soaked final shot, God’s Creatures is full of carefully composed images. There’s never a moment across the film’s modest 94-minute runtime in which it feels like co-directors Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer aren’t in full control of what’s happening on-screen. Throughout much of God’s Creatures’ quietly stomach-churning second act, that sense of directorial control just further heightens the tension that lurks beneath the surface of the film’s story.

In God's Creatures' third act, however, Holmer and Davis’ steady grip becomes a stranglehold, one that threatens to choke all the drama and suspense out of the story they’re attempting to tell. Moments that should come across as either powerful punches to the gut or overwhelming instances of emotional relief are so underplayed that they are robbed of much of their weight. God's Creatures, therefore, ultimately becomes an interesting case study on artistic restraint, and, specifically, how too calculated a style can, if executed incorrectly, leave a film feeling unsuitably cold.

Read more