A Tribute to Allyson Lee.

Last week, I was devastated to learn that my former Performing Arts tutor, Allyson Lee, had died in Switzerland by assisted suicide. It’s always sad when you hear that people who’ve had an astonishing level of influence in your life have passed on – but perhaps even sadder when you know they’ve left their life tragically early, because they had no possible way back to health.

 

Allyson was an inspirational teacher – a woman who, in the traditional Yorkshire way, took no nonsense from anyone, but was gentle, kind and understanding (though only when completely necessary, mind.) She taught me at Thomas Danby College, Leeds, from 1999 to 2001, and I probably learned more in my two years there than I ever did sitting behind a desk in the various lecture theatres of my university – a place I loathed for its stuffiness and contempt for those of us who wanted to show off on stage more than we wanted to write deathless prose analysing what Ibsen really meant (I didn’t really care). But anyway… One of the key lessons I learned from Allyson was that the superfluous use of props in the theatre can (in certain circumstances) be quite distracting, and one single, carefully selected item can be far more effective than a fancy set with equipment to match.

 

You may think this has no bearing on my subsequent career as a voiceover artist, but that’s not true. We’re all influenced by the people around us, and my time at Thomas Danby (with Allyson Lee and Ken Reid at the helm) gave me more opportunities to hone my performance and observational skills than any educational establishment I’ve been to before or since. So much so, that I can’t help putting pieces of other people in to my work here and there, which I suppose is what gives me versatility as a voice actor. Learning to create a character without an endless supply of props is one legacy of Allyson’s which lives on in my work on a daily basis. Imagine if I couldn’t get into “posh housewife,” “chavvy teenager,” or – heaven forbid – the “tube lady” character without donning a wig, a costume, and goodness knows how much beastly costume jewellery which would jingle and clink right in front of the mic? One of the skills of this job is being able to walk into the studio and immediately BE whoever’s voice is written on the page, without the need for hours of character development. I might imagine the pen I’m holding is a tennis racquet, or the headphones are a hat… OK, so it might look a bit silly as I sit in our padded room all day talking to myself, but it works for me, and our clients seem happy.

 

The use of props (or lack of) is something I know would delight Allyson, and it’s particularly evident in the one-man play “An Instinct For Kindness.” Here, Allyson’s ex-husband Chris Larner tells the story of her illness and eventual death at Dignitas, using only his memory and the help of one chair. I was privileged to have seen a preview last week, and it really is the most wonderful piece of theatre I’ve ever seen, as well as being a fitting tribute to Allyson herself. It’s surprisingly funny, illuminating , and deeply moving – if you’re heading to Edinburgh Fringe this year, I’d encourage you to put it on your list (oh, and you can book tickets and read more of Allyson’s story here). Whatever your views are on assisted suicide, it sparks an important debate; but most importantly, it keeps alive the spark of a remarkable woman whose legacy lives on in my work (and that of many others), in the most compelling piece of theatre. When you have a role to play, sometimes the only props you need are a full heart, a story to tell, and an empty chair. Thank you, Allyson, for teaching me that.