The Lighthouse

The disappearance of the three keepers of the Flannan Isles lighthouse in December 1900 powerfully affected the public imagination…

The disappearance of the three keepers of the Flannan Isles lighthouse in December 1900 powerfully affected the public imagination at the time and inspired several poems. The lack of any decisive clue to the mystery left the way open for Peter Maxwell Davies to turn the documentary reports on the incident into a short chamber opera, first performed in 1980.

By using the same three singers for the keepers and the men who came to relieve them, he has contrived to suggest that some strange force emanating from the sea will give a malevolent turn to the destiny of anyone marooned on that remote and often inaccessible island, 20 miles to the west of the Outer Hebrides. The blurring of identities implies that history will repeat itself.

In Opera Theatre Company's revival of its 1998 production, the director, Brian Brady, emphasises the spookiness of the plot, which is heightened by Paul McCauley's claustrophobic set and Paul Keogan's sinister lighting effects. The keepers' minds are shown disintegrating under the strain of their confinement and they, and possibly the reliefs as well, become the victims of hallucinations. The three personalities are so strongly differentiated that they inevitably come into conflict, but they are closer to stereotypes than to credible human beings.

At the heart of the opera is an episode in which each keeper sings a song. As if to underline the unreality of the situation, each song is written in parodic style: the baritone, Sam Mc Elroy, boastfully discloses the characters' criminal past in country and western style; the tenor, Eugene Ginty, sorrowfully recalls a lost sweetheart in a Victorian ballad; the bass, John Milne, is revealed as a religious maniac in a Salvation Army hymn. The three sing with conviction and fervour and as the music returns to its jangling dissonances, the horror of their past returns to haunt them into madness.

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Fergus Sheil, conducting the 12-piece Opera Theatre Ensemble, rose to the composer's demands which ranged from evocations of sea-birds and of other natural sounds to a sort of musical grand guignol as clashing tones were extravagantly superimposed. The total effect was over the top; presumably, this was the composer's intention.