Lisa O’Connor talks art, activism, and the magic that happens when the two collide
Award-winning actress and writer Lisa O’Connor sits down with Sarah Gill to talk about the making of her debut film, Fleeting, the shadow cast on rural Ireland by the Catholic church, and bridging generational gaps in ideology through compassion.
On May 25, 2018, Ireland voted to repeal the Eighth Amendment, thereby removing a constitutional ban on abortion. In the lead-up to the referendum, campaigners and advocates across the country used their voices and platforms to educate and encourage this move towards achieving bodily autonomy for Irish women. During this time many difficult conversations played out in front rooms, around dinner tables, and on bar stools in cities, villages and rural corners across the country. That is exactly what Clare actress and writer Lisa O’Connor’s debut short film, Fleeting, is all about. Distilling that moment, that movement, into a 12-minute piece of art imbued with meaning and resonance.
Fleeting follows Saoirse, played by Lisa, as she flies home to cast her vote. Nipping into the pub for a quick pint and a catch-up with her father, played by Brendan Dunlea, it’s clear that he is firmly against the bill. It’s a fictionalised story based on experience, but Lisa’s differs slightly.
“My dad told me he didn’t vote that day, that after all of our discussions about it, he felt too conflicted,” Lisa tells me. “Then when I started writing Spitting Image—which was the working title for what would become Fleeting—my mother told me that he did vote, and he voted no.”
What Ireland did he grow up in? What fears did he have? We can’t even begin to imagine the darkness Ireland had for those born in the ‘50s. It’s a different Ireland, and the shadow of the Catholic church still exists.
“The fact that he couldn’t face telling me, the consideration he had for my feelings, I just wanted to wrap my head around why. Regardless of the anger I felt, I wanted to understand the reasons he felt compelled to vote no. What Ireland did he grow up in? What fears did he have? We can’t even begin to imagine the darkness Ireland had for those born in the ‘50s. It’s a different Ireland, and the shadow of the Catholic church still exists within this generation who are afraid of stepping out of line, of being perceived badly.”
What resulted from this lesson in understanding is a gentle conversation played out between a father and daughter over a pint of Guinness in their local pub. It’s a conversation many of us had, with immediate family or distant relatives, and it’s one saturated with underlying frustration and the weight of what’s at stake.
“I don’t want that every time I go home, I feel overwhelmed by these opposing views on the world, and I want to be empathetic and compassionate with the other side. It’s the only way that we can survive it. All this anger in the world is overwhelming, and if we try to understand why other people have these views, it takes you down these really interesting paths.”
The film has a fly-on-the-wall, documentary-style feel to it, and there’s a generous vulnerability to the ways Lisa and director Louisa Connolly-Burnham approached each frame. “I had a termination in 2019,” Lisa shares. “I imagined what it would have been like if the stakes were higher and I was pregnant on the day of Repeal, and I dramatised the story from there. What would I have said to my dad if I was under those circumstances? How would he respond? Where would I have tried to ease his discomfort with a joke, where would we have met? Probably a pub. What would we be watching? Probably the GAA. It’s all these different moments of creating a soft environment against the sharpness of the day and the stakes.”
Irish women have been through so much, and it’s phenomenal how vocal and present we’ve become. We’re only a few generations from the Magdalene laundries, and look at what we’re accomplishing and advocating for, loudly and proudly.
Keenly aware of the crucial role played by the Catholic church in the lives of many, the experience of writing this story equipped Lisa with a deeper love and understanding of the perspectives that lead people towards these beliefs. “I can’t imagine growing up in the Ireland my father grew up in, one instilled with fear,” she says. “Irish women have been through so much, and it’s phenomenal how vocal and present we’ve become. We’re only a few generations from the Magdalene laundries, and look at what we’re accomplishing and advocating for, loudly and proudly.”
I could never have imagined what it would mean for other people to see someone talk about having a termination in this way.
Through the creation of Fleeting, its many screenings at film festivals, and Lisa’s candour about her own termination, people are feeling seen and finding the strength to put their experience into words. “I could never have imagined what it would mean for other people to see someone talk about having a termination in this way,” Lisa reflects. “There’s so much guilt and shame associated with having a termination, and on top of that there’s a fearfulness of future fertility, but it’s also so bloody lonely and isolating — and painful.”
“The amount of women I’ve spoken to who are asking why no one’s talking about how painful the procedure is on your body physically — and then there’s the mental repercussions afterwards too. You wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, but you’re also so grateful to have that choice. It’s a confusing back-and-forth going on inside your brain, and opening it up to the outside world for people to relate to and see themselves within is so important. To ease that, it’s the biggest privilege.”
Fleeting will continue to tour the film festival circuit until February 2025, so keep an eye out on Instagram. In the meantime, Lisa O’Connor continues to audition and is working on another script. Watch this space.
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