THE STORY – In the wake of Suez Canal closures, American-owned Gulf Oil pivots to Ireland, opening a massive new terminal on Whiddy Island. As geopolitical tensions ease, the financial benefits begin to wane, and a disastrous terminal explosion scars the community for years to come.
THE CAST – N/A
THE TEAM – Adrian McCarthy (Director) & Brenda Morrissey (Co-Director)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
There are plenty of documentaries about tragedies, many of which have the primary purpose of either bringing greater awareness to an underdiscussed event or illuminating aspects of well-known happenings. “Whiddy,” the new documentary by Adrian McCarthy and co-director Brenda Morrissey sits somewhere in the middle. Recounting everything that led up to the 1979 Whiddy Island disaster, it tells a story that’s infamous to those who were – and continue to be – directly affected by it, but has been overshadowed internationally by continually and increasingly irresponsible acts by oil companies. But what makes “Whiddy” so effective is the directors’ approach, which frames and depicts the true life story as something of a cautionary nightmare. Thanks to the power of editing and wisely curated archival material, “Whiddy” puts viewers in the overwhelming headspace of the locals of Bantry Bay, making the audience feel just as consumed by the catastrophe and irreversible damage that affects the area to this day.
Whiddy Island sits within Bantry Bay, off the southwest coast of Ireland. As the film’s opening montage shows, the tiny island was once home to a small but industrious collection of fishers and farmers. But as is quickly explained, that changed starting in the late 1960s with the arrival of Gulf Oil, which, trying to find a way to distribute oil to Europe despite the then-closed Suez Canal (history really does repeat itself), aimed to construct a large oil terminal there. This would serve as a stopping point for supertankers departing the Middle East, which would then deposit their product to be disseminated on the European mainland. The filmmakers sow seeds of anxiety immediately, with early quotes from locals and their descendants that foreshadow the disaster that will be discussed later in the film (one interviewee offers the chilling preview, “I’d never seen melted steel before”).
At first, the arrival of Gulf was seen as a blessing – an economic shot in the arm that would potentially bring both prosperity and attention to the area. But even during the well-chosen newsreel footage of smiling, celebratory residents, the filmmakers keep a foreboding tension simmering underneath. This is thanks in large part to the excellent, unsettling score by Paul Hartnoll. Making heavy use of synths, the music gives the entire film a feeling of impending doom and adds a level of tragic irony to any instances of optimism about Gulf’s invasion of the bay. In the edit, the directors also frequently invert their footage to its negative – a simple but effective trick that immediately flips the tone of whatever’s being shown into the ominous or emphasizes the horror of upsetting footage (although at times, the use of this visual flourish feels excessive).
But despite the obvious foreknowledge that comes with telling a story nearly half a century after it occurred, McCarthy and Morrissey (the latter also serves as the film’s editor) smartly unspool the tale of Gulf on Whiddy in chronological order, while still allowing modern day commentary to give context to the impressive collection of historic visual material. Although the 1979 disaster shook the country, as the film shows, it was hardly the first time that something calamitous occurred there. The documentary highlights two major oil spills that happened in the bay, which should’ve served as warning signs as to the danger and negligence that are all too common in the oil industry.
The recounting of the specifics of the most famous disaster to occur at Whiddy is done with reverence for the loss suffered and derisive scorn for all that led to it. In January of 1979, the French oil tanker named Betelgeuse exploded in the bay, near Whiddy Island’s jetty. The ship cracked in half, a massive fire was started, and ultimately, the lives of 50 people were claimed. The film’s directors keep the damage in horrifying perspective, highlighting not only the immediate victims but the ripple effects of the event. Most notably, the human toll of the disaster extended beyond the 50 lives lost, as it led to dozens more broken families and orphans. McCarthy and Morrissey emphasize the complete wastefulness of the incident with the cynical tone that they infuse into the documentary. As they highlight, preventive measures were avoided in favor of cost-saving, ignorant decisions, such as the idea to make the island only accessible by a singular, small boat – although there was once a bridge to the island, it was only used to facilitate the construction of the jetty and was promptly torn down once the build was completed. The film is full of shocking details like this, showing just how dangerous the emphasis on profit over safety and sense truly is. As one interviewee puts it, the island was made “hostage to fortune.”
McCarthy and Morrissey’s camera takes viewers to Whiddy Island in the present day, where the only remains of its once booming oil business are the giant storage drums that sit on the island like ominous, ghostly craters, along with a now-ironic statue donated to the residents by Gulf upon the company’s arrival. It’s truly amazing what just a few years passing can do, putting the oil company’s unfulfilled promise into perspective, as all that the area ultimately gained was a ravaged island, a haunting legacy, and a solemn concrete memorial for their troubles. Thanks to Adrian McCarthy and Brenda Morrissey’s powerfully empathetic filmmaking, “Whiddy” allows viewers to feel a fraction of the pain and sorrow of those affected by the negative impact of unfettered capitalistic practices, which continue to be all-too-common in our profit-driven world.
