Alys Williams’ storytelling takes the lead to consume with hope amidst despair

This is not a typical play. First of all, because the scenery, consisting of wooden boxes and stairs, orange lightbulbs and fishing nets, and the name of the production, can easily mislead you. Secondly, because you may be walking alongside the protagonist to help her tell the tale, if she calls for your assistance. And last but not least, this isn’t your standard stage experience because there are few times where such a powerful metaphor can convey the terror of what it’s like to lose someone in the dark, while getting consumed in that same shadow of despair. 

The Light House follows the story of a woman (played by Alys Williams) who’s retelling in 60 minutes what happened to her and Nathan, her paramour who slowly got immersed in a depressive cycle. However, make no mistake: this is her story, because the grief that she goes through because of this diagnosis is equally if not more powerful than the ghastly presence of both the mentioned but (almost) never seen lover and the horrible, striking and mysterious sickness that consumes her with anxiety, sadness and yet also with a glimmer of hope. It’s a relief that although the play touches on such a sorrowful tale, the script (also by Alys Williams) and the protagonist make us see the joy and beauty of love and life, as well as the constant battle to overcome this, beautifully executed by subtle light changes, wonderful and immersive sound design and an all-encompassing performance by Williams, who can transmit everything with subtle expressions and striking emotional swings. If suddenly getting involved in the story is something that provokes fear in you, beware: she asks the audience simple tasks of them to help her get a complete character portrait of her journey during the otherwise one-woman show.

Beside those intermissions, that make the play more dynamic to be fair, her story command is enough to make us feel everything alongside her, and the hour mostly flies by with ease. There are two particularly harrowing moments: one where she tries to dance the pain away with mixed results and the glowing finale, where she explains the overall significance of lighthouses as a sign of persistence, giving us clever foreshadowing over the course of the story as to why the setting, although at first strange given the mundane imaginary scenarios she conveys in her story, makes for such a powerful metaphor. I couldn’t think of a better ending for this sensible, kind and magnificently acted play, especially important given how in peril mental health currently is at the moment.