It’s often useful to come to a theatrical production completely clueless about its content or history. That was pretty much my situation at Saturday’s matinee of The Years. I knew it had been a big success at the Almeida Theatre in 2024, I knew that it was one hour fifty-five minutes with no interval, and I knew that on some occasions they have to stop the show due to audience members’ reactions to a certain scene. But I’d never heard of Annie Ernaux, on whose book, Les Années, the play is based, nor of Eline Arbo, who adapted it and directs the production.
It’s an autobiographical account of Ms Ernaux’ life, with five actors playing her and the other people in her life. The actors are of varying ages and portray Ms Ernaux as a child, a teen/young adult, a young woman, a middle-aged woman and finally a more elderly woman (although the always incredible Deborah Findlay looks way too young to be “elderly”!) From the start, it’s an ensemble performance, with all five participating at all the stages of her life, describing photographs from the past that serve as launchpads for a scene from any particular era.
Eline Arbo’s direction is very strong on sheetography. A clean white sheet is unfolded as the backdrop for each photograph which will then be used as a tablecloth, or scrunched up to become a baby, or a garment, or a banner – the list is endless. It’s a very clever and successful device that allows our imaginations to work overtime, and all the sheets that have played a part in telling her story are hung up around the stage, like ghosts from a former time, emphasising how a person is the sum of all their experiences – and even their experiences to come. They really do get through a lot of sheets. Indeed, if there is one message that came most strongly forward to me from the production is that a person is made up of so many elements, many of which will contrast and contradict other aspects of their personality. As Walt Whitman said, I am large, I contain multitudes.
The play grows in power as it progresses; unsurprisingly, perhaps, as there’s only so much interest to be drawn from the behaviour and experiences of a child, whose prime interest appears to be following through on her early discoveries of the joys of masturbation. But as the woman gets older, has relationships, finds work and a place in the world, has an abortion – see first paragraph – then a marriage, children and develops the self-confidence and self-awareness to live her life as she sees fit, the story gets much more interesting. And whilst it is a serious play, there are some flashes of terrific humour, such as attending an overzealous exercise class, or participating in a very drunken and druggy party. There are also some surprising musical moments – I didn’t, for example, expect to find myself swaying in my seat to Desireless’ fantastic Voyage Voyage.
The performances are all superb, totally convincing with their portrayal of the gradually ageing central character, as well as all the people around her. Harmony Rose-Bremner is great as the impish young Annie; playful, mischievous, and grumpy when things don’t go her way. I also really enjoyed her performance as one of Annie’s sullen teenage sons. Anjli Mohindra takes Annie into her young adult years where she starts having to make decisions for herself and first encounters men. Tuppence Middleton is the twenty/thirty-something Annie, making the choice that now is the wrong time to have a baby and dealing with all that decision’s consequences. Gina McKee is brilliant as the middle-aged mother and divorcee, starting to find time for herself again; and Deborah Findlay pulls all the threads together as Annie looks forward to whatever time is left, managing her family as best she can and to the extent that they need it, whilst making sure her own needs remain of the prime importance.
It would be wrong not to go back to that abortion scene. It’s graphic and pulls no punches; red blood shows up strongly against a white sheet. It’s also honest and frank; there’s no attempt to dress it up politely because some things just can’t be dressed up. It’s a scene of huge dramatic intensity, performed immaculately by Tuppence Middleton. There are trigger warnings to read, and people may assume that won’t affect me, I’ll be alright; only to discover that some of us are not alright. There must have been at least six audience members throughout the auditorium who were so affected that they had to leave or, indeed, be attended to in their seats. A few minutes into the following scene, the stage manager had to come on stage and announce that the performance would be suspended whilst audience members were assisted.
I can’t stress how helpful an interval would have been. The impetus for keeping up the dramatic pressure by not having an interval needs to be weighed against the practical needs of the audience, and a scheduled break would allow people to settle, or at least for paramedics to do their work. Bizarrely, during the pause – which lasted about twenty minutes – the cast did not fully leave the stage but hovered in the wings, chatting; it seemed like a deliberate decision to do that, but whenever I’ve been in an audience where the performance has had to be paused because of a technical issue, the cast quietly go off and aren’t seen again until everything is ready to resume. Curious!
Not the Seven Ages of Man, but the Five Ages of Woman. It’s a subject that seems rarely to be addressed, and its impact is powerful. And whilst there are a few lulls in the storytelling, particularly in the first part of the play, the content builds to a very strong and memorable conclusion.
Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!