Alannah Lewis is a seasoned writer with experience in multiple forms. Her one-woman play ‘BirthdA’ was performed at the Corpus Playroom (January 2019) to wide acclaim, and she was the winner of the Cambridge Shorts ‘New Writing Award’ (February 2018) for her short films ‘The Tortoise’ and ‘The Cyclists’, the former of which was described as ‘a portrayal that balances humour and trauma, approaching an important and pervasive problem with empathy and wit’ (Varsity).
Alannah has also been published in the prestigious Mays Anthology, which features new writing from Oxford and Cambridge. She will begin an MA in Screenwriting at the London Film School next academic year.
West of Frances by Alannah Lewis is at theSpace @ Surgeons Hall 12th – 24th August
West of Frances is coming to theSpace what can you tell us about it?
The low-down: Sister Ina Marsh of Ballymun, Dublin, has died. Frances Shea decides to catch a plane from London Heathrow in order to spit on Ina’s grave. It is an act of revenge long overdue. Sister Ina Marsh, after all, is the woman who left Frances’ then teenaged grandmother high, dry and without so much as a friend in Jesus. And Frances’ then teenaged grandmother, after all, has curious and inconvenient ways of making her presence felt.
‘West of Frances’ is a darkly humorous piece which tracks one woman’s saliva-fuelled odyssey to rectify the wrongs of history, whilst bringing both Franceses– young and old– to life on-stage. It is a play which deals with family, thwarted journeys, and the experience of femininity in the 21st century as it clashes with that of previous generations.
What inspired you to write West of Frances?
My family are good at story-telling. So good, that they feel they must repeat the same stories at every opportunity. I’ve heard stories from parents and grandparents, who went to school in Ireland at a time when education almost exclusively fell within the remit of the Church; stories of leaving home. I don’t think that I could ever have let this material pass me by. I don’t think I had much of a choice.
It was my own curiosity that inspired me to write the play; curiosity about my own standing as a third-generation immigrant. Although I don’t have much of a claim to the latter part of that title (or much of a tether to the country my grandparents left sixty years ago), I’m interested in what it means to come from a place, and what it means to no longer have a need to return.
Why did you want to write about this subject in particular?
The relationship between grandmothers and granddaughters seems to be largely untapped in film and theatre, but I think that it’s fertile ground. I love the idea of characteristics and traits lying dormant in one generation and waking up in the next; how we might feel an intense connection with women beyond our mothers/immediate carers. Through photography and shared memory, we can construct a picture in our heads of the lives of these older women. If, like Frances, you never met your grandmother, then you might nevertheless feel as though you had. The play takes this feeling to the extreme.
‘West of Frances’ asks the question: is it possible to be anything other than the sum of the people (women) who came before us? It’s a question I had at the front of my mind as I was writing the play, and one I kept there for a while after.
What’s the one thing about West of Frances makes it different from all the rest?
Aside from being a one-woman show told by two women, ‘West of Frances’ asks its audience to sympathise with a character whose only hobby is spitting on the graves of people she dislikes.
How does it feel to be at theSpace?
theSpace is a safe pair of hands. The company’s history of working alongside emergent performers and artists is very encouraging. Plus, Surgeon’s Hall is a monument unto itself. I can’t wait to see the show come to life there. That said, I’m mostly looking forward to seeing/supporting the array of student-led performance which theSpace helps to put on.
Why should people come see West of Frances?
‘West of Frances’ features a young woman who, for the play’s 50 minute running time, is partially possessed by the spirit of her dead grandmother. Our actor, Ella, plays two parts: that of young Frances, the protagonist, and that of old Frances, the grandmother. It’s essentially a one-person argument, set in the departure lounge of Heathrow airport. If that doesn’t cut it as an opening gambit, then we can offer saliva, Hovis bread, and a suitcase full of surprises. ‘West of Frances’ combines the silly and the serious, offering a nuanced comment on Irish abortion laws, theocracy, and immigration (without being too heavy handed, ideally). Added to that, it might make you think twice about your relationship to the people you come from. ‘West of Frances’ has one foot in fantasy and another in memory and maybe even a third foot in tragedy. You’ll have to see for yourself.
