Written and Directed by Izzy Gray

Our fascination with the one thing we cannot control, death, leads to various stories twisting themselves into the gaps history leaves blank.

It’s a powerful thing to craft a tale, to take autonomy over someone’s life and death – for millennia we can’t help but complete an unfinished tale. Few, if any, mysteries within these lands can rival the infamy of the Flannan Isles Lighthouse disappearance in 1900, where its three keepers vanished from their duty, abandoning their post under peculiar circumstances. It wasn’t until the onshore ‘spotter’ who, neglecting his duties, finally noticed that the lamp had gone out at the lighthouse peak.

What happened over those ten days? Between a few log entries, an untouched meal rotting to ash, and the Lighthouse board’s official reasoning behind the disappearance, theories range from a horrific disaster in the ensuing maelstrom to a violent bout of cabin fever.

Now if that’s all it was, there wouldn’t be much of a legend, would there?

Returning to The Studio, Potterrow, Izzy Gray’s Keepers of the Light may initially stoke the embers of a gristly and ghoulish tale but weaves the past with the present in an original take which sees three contemporary technicians visit the lighthouse for routine maintenance. But they soon come to realise that the spirits of this island are in more places than the bottom of a bottle. Gray’s writing (and direction) extends beyond the trivial though, ensuring Keepers of the Light is more than a common tale of spirit and spook: an easy option given the ravenous audience appetites for a ghost story.

What follows is, you’ll be pleased to hear, an atmospheric tale of supernatural and even violent eruption, but admirably garbed in an understanding of the art of storytelling which seeks to further the narrative in less traditional (and expected) manners. The facts of the Isles’ history, beyond the lighthouse, offer a depth which could be further explored if the production makes it to a two-act structure (which it is certainly capable of), sit beautifully with a nudge at our morbid obsession, even reluctances, to see anything other than spectre and myth, rather than the mundane truth.

Reflecting on the past, Gray fleshes out the mortal coil of the story by recognising the myth and toying with the repetition of history: These three technicians find themselves trapped in the lighthouse, and the storm outside ensures their isolation from the mainland just as it did over a century ago. Returning to the roles they played last May, Fraser Sivewright, Rhys Anderson and Garry Stewart invigorate the production and cross the thin barrier of history as they take on dual roles as both contemporary technicians and the three men who vanished.

Finding their sea legs, young whelp Anderson (previously seen in the CATS-nominated The Storm Lantern) takes on the roles of Donald and Mac, often finding himself at the mercy of one of his crewmate’s japes or chuckles. And though in the future Mac has a cannier and more brazen response to these, the weight of it all sits a touch heavier for the sensitive Donald. The island has a more visceral and evident impact on a young boy, Gray manipulating the more supernatural elements to malevolent effect, as Anderson has tremendous fun switching between the genuine terror Donald expresses and the more erratic and animated grievances of Mac being pranked. It’s a balanced performance alongside Stewart’s Jim and Davie, portraying something closer to a mentor-like role for both the young Donald (and Mac) and a go-between with our third character, Sivewright’s Tam, and Alec. Stewart, through most of the production, is heralded and pedestalled as the central authority, but when able to let loose, Stewart brings a mirthful playfulness to the production to offset the aggression and action of the third keeper, Tam.

Though a tree-hander, Sivewright is often the driving force of the tension and narrative – and holds the privilege of book-ending the production. Cast under the ebbing oil-lamp flickers of Danny Main’s claustrophobic set design, Sivewright captures the heart of Gray’s intentions, posing the eternal question of who, or if there even was, a villain of the tale. While ex-navy sailor Alec, Sivewright is authentic and holds a firm position on-stage, as the more brutish and belligerent Tam, our curiosity is piqued, but also our suspicions. Alec and Tam bring a necessary gallows humour to the affair, casting out the more ghostly elements of the tale, and sinking their teeth into the physicality of it all as their final monologue leaves the audience with no answers, plenty of questions, and a thirst for more.

This physicality, with movement direction Ana Norrie-Toch, is beautifully incorporated into the strictness of Main’s set. The men are confined to an enclosed space, isolated, and the building aggressions and momentum ferments until it cannot be contained. Norrie-Toch’s choreography of the three explodes as they wrestle with the physical manifestation of their hyper-masculinities and the embodiment of the ocean’s torrential waves. It’s also well-utilised in the pacing of the show, the changes between time-frames happening with such quickness it’s occasionally hard to adjust to the transition without the speedy costume changes and lighting shifts from Tom Sulat.

As the explosive roars of the men echo through The Studio space, it is the original composition from Ewan Watson and Kit Willmott’s sound design that conjures the ghosts on the water. Rippling, the supernatural nature of it all bows to the tremendous impact of the mental toll this isolation takes on the men, the reverberating and repetitive turning of the lighthouse more distressing than any wraith which may be hiding in the island’s abandoned chapel.

There are no answers here. But what Gray does capture, with a talented team, enables them to project the ethereal elements of the tale to audiences, while imparting a more crucial tale of isolation, masculinity, and the layered nature of storytelling which transcends well beyond a simple ghost story. Capturing its namesake and history, Keepers of the Light penetrates the darkness with a shafting light of hope, one clearly deserving of its widening horizons ahead of its Scottish tour, channelling its intricate storytelling and brine across Scotland and offer an original dimension to a century-old tale.