In the literary world, Edgar Allan Poe is renowned as the creator of some of history’s most terrifying stories. From “The Pit and the Pendulum” through “The Raven,” Poe’s status as a renowned American poet and horror fiction novelist is well established. However, Poe takes center stage in Scott Cooper’s Netflix adaptation of Louis Bayard’s historical book The Pale Blue Eye.
Bayard’s story, set in 1830, during Poe’s brief stint as a student at West Point, follows retired investigator Gus Landor (Christian Bale) as he attempts to identify a killer prowling the cold academy grounds. He enlists the help of a young cadet called Edgar Allen Poe (Harry Melling) to serve as his eyes and ears among the soldiers.
As the story unfolds and Poe and Landor get closer to their main suspects, the Marquis family, we discover that no one is exactly who they appear to be.
Cooper expertly evokes the frigid topography of the Hudson Highlands and infuses the winding plot with a gothic ambiance appropriate for the poet who wanders within the pages. Cooper’s adaption, unfortunately, fails to fully absorb the heart of Bayard’s black tail due to a restricted run time and a few withheld punches.
With his lovely southern drawl and enthusiastic love of literature, Melling is the film’s standout performance as the young Poe. The British actor does an excellent job of bringing Bayard’s eloquent words to life, but the film’s two-hour running time cannot expect to capture all of the delightful contacts with Poe that Bayard packs into his narrative. The novel’s changing first-person narrative provides descriptions from both Landor’s and Poe’s perspectives, revealing the young man’s amazing psychology.
Poe, who has fallen in love with the young virgin Lea Marquis (Lucy Boynton), continuously rhapsodizes over her and prepares to flee with her to a strange continent. In addition to a romantic nighttime meeting in an elegant sleigh, Bayard’s tale has a charming scene in which Poe slips out of the academy barracks to follow Lea to a neighboring dinner party. Poe indulges his dramatic impulses with a french accent and tales of battlefield bravado, even daring to ask the visitors if they’ve heard of a young poet named Poe while wearing her uncle’s old uniform and a false mustache. When his mustache begins to fall out, he refuses to leave Lea’s side and swears to keep the charade going even if it means certain detection.
Another more fully developed character in Bayard’s story is Poe’s lady love (a reference to Poe’s famous muse Lenore). Lea is plagued by a terrible ailment known as epilepsy, and she lives with the constant fear of her own death. In all versions of the narrative, she is lured to Poe’s morbid fascinations, and the two forge a strong friendship. Because of the film’s short exchanges, it’s easy to conclude that Lea is pretending fondness for Poe in preparation for a horrible sacrifice, but their lengthy romance in Bayard’s novel suggests a deeper relationship.
As a reflection of Landor’s late daughter Mattie (Hadley Robinson), Bayard fosters the bond between the elderly investigator and Lea, giving him a fatherly fondness for the young lady even if he accuses her of stealing the missing heart. In Bayard’s tale, Lea begs Landor to quit pursuing her brother Artemus (Harry Lawtey) before falling off a cliff in the middle of a seizure. Landor falls with her, just preventing the young woman from dying. Lea’s insistence that he should not have saved her illustrates the depths of her desperation and the seriousness of her illness, lending empathy to her more sinister deeds.
Both versions of the narrative feature Landor finding the truth about Lea as she prepares to sacrifice Poe. Following the guidance of her ancestor, a witch hunter named Henri le Clerc, Lea is seeking to heal herself through demonic rituals and, according to le Clerc’s old teachings, has stolen the heart of a hung man. While Cooper indicates that she is planning to take out Poe’s heart as well, Bayard’s Lea is hunting for virgin blood and has chosen Poe because of his amorous naiveté. While Cooper’s Lea dies in the last sacrifice, Bayard offers her a far bloodier finish.
The video depicts Lea holding the stolen heart as the ice house’s flaming ceiling descends on her head. Artemus rushes to her side and is crushed as the burning beams drop in a heap on top of the loving siblings. Bayard’s Lea attempts to devour Fry’s heart after being spotted mid-ritual by Landor. Artemus is compelled to perform a battlefield tracheotomy to save her life as the rotting muscle becomes trapped in her throat. Artemus, who is not a qualified surgeon like his father, cuts in the incorrect location and Lea bleeds to death as he, Landor, and Poe look on in horror. The icehouse’s ceiling does indeed collapse on Artemus, who is clutching her body, but only after this horrific scene of a brother’s frantic attempts to save his sister.
The novel opens and closes with Gus Landor’s narrative as he considers the end of his life, and this looping scenario foreshadows the story’s twisting route. The last moments indicate that Lea and Artemus did not murder anyone. They just came across a dead man and took advantage of the chance to use his body in their rituals. Landor has always been the murderer and murdered the two cadets in retaliation for attacking Mattie. The narrative takes up the morning following the first murder in both versions of the story. Landor fears he is being arrested for the crime when he is summoned to West Point.
While Bayard does not explicitly state this, the first-person narrative form allows us to detect Landor’s uneasiness. Internal conversation while he unwittingly interviews for the post, as well as his urge to declare, “Gentlemen, I’m your guy,” after supposedly agreeing to investigate the crime, all point to his culpability. Cooper is forced to rely on the performance of his actor in the absence of a narrator, and while Bale is a master at identifying the subtleties of a character, it’s not immediately evident to the spectator that he may have a darker link to the murder.
This personal perspective also provides insight into Landor’s motive. While Cooper’s Landor avoids discussing his daughter, Bayard’s Landor spends a large amount of time explaining his beloved Mattie to Poe. Cooper portrays Landor’s sorrow for his lost daughter admirably, although his recollections of her are confined to glimpses of the young woman spinning in a gorgeous ball gown and Landor treasuring a ribbon from her hair and seeking to console her in her dying days. Bayard recalls their riverside excursions, her tendency to cry when reading poetry, and the first time he held the squalling infant in his hands. We sense Landor’s affection for his daughter, which makes his grief at her murder and his determination to avenge her all the more terrible.
While Landor and Mattie’s relationship is painful, it is his friendship with Poe that supplies the emotional basis of the narrative. Cooper’s characters get along well, yet the story recounts several evenings spent drinking, laughing, and discussing global events. Landor’s realization that they had both stopped calling one other “Mr.” is like passing a boundary into a close relationship. Landor’s epiphany that he once watched a performance by Poe’s mother, the famous actress Eliza Poe, is particularly moving. The young guy’s willingness to learn every detail about the mother who died when he was a youngster demonstrates both Landor’s fondness for the young man and Poe’s own need for parental love.
Mr. John Allen, Poe’s adopted father, pays the two a visit as well. He is an unpleasant man who is harsh to Poe, which is a true incident from the poet’s life. Landor runs into him after the two buddies argue over the realization that Poe has been lying about his past. We sympathize with Poe as Landor raves against him, recounting the horrors of a terrible existence, and we understand why a sensitive young man would wish to create a more interesting history for himself. Shortly after this dispute, Landor confronts Mr. Allen vehemently, finally presenting the author with the caring father figure we wish he could have had in real life.
Cooper’s Poe realizes Landor is the murderer because his handwriting resembles that of an incriminating message, whereas Bayard’s Poe has a far more complicated awakening. Bayard makes fun of Poe’s literary catalog, referencing “The Tell-Tale Heart” by having his imaginary poet remember the lack of a second heart in Lea’s possession. This sheds new light on her objectives, and Landor is then met with his own pale blue gaze. Poe notes the letters opening each line of a poem supposedly read to him by his mother spell out the words “Mathilde dead.” This leads him to look into the unfortunate girl’s disappearance, and he discovers that she did not flee as Landor says, but rather hurled herself off a cliff in the aftermath of a terrible attack.
While both versions of Poe confront Landor about his lie, the encounter between Bayard’s characters is far sadder. Cooper and Poe’s collaboration comes to an end when Poe burns the incriminating note to protect his friend. Instead, Bayard’s Landor delivers Poe a revolver and urges him to terminate his life. Afraid of a long dead on the gallows, Landor seeks assistance from his buddy, but Poe refuses to kill the investigator he’s grown to regard as a father. Landor observes that if Mattie had discovered him, they may have become a family, which, although touching in the film, is all the more devastating given the novel’s key relationship’s complexities.
Also read: Thai Massage: Mildly relaxing, Moderately racy
Bayard’s narrative ends with Landor following Mattie’s journey to the cliffs, hinting that he jumps into the frigid waters to meet her, but Cooper’s Landor merely releases her ribbon into the breeze. It’s a bittersweet conclusion to a really tragic tale.
Scott Cooper’s adaptation of The Pale Blue Eye touches on this darkness but falls short of delving fully into the depths of misery contained inside Louis Bayard’s pages.
The Pale Blue Eye is now available to watch on Netflix.
