Mickey Jo (0:00)

Oh my God. Hey. Welcome back to my theatre themed YouTube channel and hello to you if you're listening on podcast platforms. My name is Mickey Jo and I am obsessed with all things theatre. I'm a professional theatre critic here on social media and today we're going to be talking about the West End's newest play, it is the Years, which recently transferred to the Harold Pinter Theatre in London. It was previously seen at the Almeida Theatre where it was hugely acclaimed and prior to that it was first performed on stage in 2022 in the Netherlands at their national theatre. The Years has adapted and directed for the stage by Eline Arbo and is based on the lauded novel Les Ane by Annie Ernaux, which documents some six decades of personal experience and collective memory, essentially following the life of a woman living in France between the mid-1940s and 2000s. This blistering production of the novel is at times so intense some audience members are experiencing an unexpected physical reaction. That is just one of the aspects of this play that we will be discussing in today's review, as well as the performances of this five piece ensemble cast, as well as the staging and design and of course the pieces, material and themes. If you have already been to see the Years, either at its new home at the Harold Penter Theatre or previously at the Almeida Theatre, let me know what you thought of the production in the comments down below. And if you would like to hear more reviews, stay tuned for more coming very soon. Make sure you are subscribed here on YouTube or following me on podcast platforms. In the meantime though, let's talk about the Years. I feel compelled to be incredibly articulate about this one because I think it's so brilliantly written, it is so sophisticated, it is so purposeful and measured and affecting with its language and with its storytelling. This is an exceptional piece of theatre. This is a masterpiece right here. And beyond my own incredibly positive experience, seeing it, enjoying it and being affected by it, I think there is the possibility for it to be hugely more impactful for audience members who can relate to it more personally. This principally is about the female experience in the second half of the 20th century that is not particularly when I lived, nor am I a woman. So if you do find yourself in the middle of that Venn diagram, I dare say that there is a huge amount more that you will relate to. A lot of the historical references, things that I was aware of, but not things that, you know, struck me with charming familiarity. Similarly, it's depictions of the more harrowing aspects of the Female experience in terms of navigating the possibility of pregnanc and burgeoning sexuality in, you know, the. The 60s, the 70s, certainly eye opening and shocking to me, will surely hugely resonate with female audience members, especially those who live through that period. Because literally, the story that this is telling is that of a woman living in France. We follow her over six or seven decades of her life, and she is depicted in turn by this ensemble cast, who take, in turn, in order to sort of take custody of her as a character and as a consciousness. This being a remnant from the Annie Ernaux novel in which the central character is referred to with a plural pronoun. She is referred to as we because it talks about her personal experience, but also about, you know, women moving through that time and people moving through that time and society moving through that time. Our central character here navigates motherhood and navigates creative goals and aspirations and romantic relationships and sexual liberation. That's a huge component of this. The story beneath the story, what it really speaks meaningfully about is the emancipation of women, specifically in terms of sexual liberation in the second half of the 20th century as a result of the advent of more available birth control. The narrative talks both about the freedom that this afforded on a personal level, as well as the impact that it had on society. But a bigger picture about society is also being painted simultaneously. We are not just talking about reproductive rights and women's sexual liberation or women's rights even. We're talking about shifts in society affecting everyone universally, beyond France, beyond one particular gender, because this character's progression is encircled at all times by turbulent 20th century politics. We are in post World War II, and there is the Gulf War and Vietnam and Algeria and Russia and the US and the Cold War. All of these historic events, these international occurrences, and the shift in the mood of society with each progressing decade. The idea of the 60s and what they brought, the 70s and what that represented, and then the 80s and the 90s, 90s and the 2000s, and the way that society and the world really was evolving and the way that our character shifted and evolved initially in accordance with those, you know, as the 60s and the 70s are happening, as she is maturing, as she is becoming a young woman and an adult and a parent, she is changing in the same way alongside it. As we turn the corner of the new millennium, it becomes a little different because it starts to feel like society is progressing at a more accelerated rate and leaving her as an older person. So while it does speak to the female experience very profoundly, it Speaks to, I think, just the concept of aging in an increasingly changing world. I feel like I'm speaking even more so than usual with my hands today, podcast listeners, you won't be enjoying the visual here, but just imagine me like one of those inflatable advertising men outside of a car dealership. That's what I feel like right now. It's a sign I really enjoyed something. This is theatrical enthusiasm with nowhere to go. So it's vibrating through my fingertips anyway. This idea of collective consciousness, of representing both one woman's journey and her story, as well as changes happening within society and affecting, you know, a far broader range of people, is a remnant of the book that is something that Annie Ernau talked about in a feature that she utilized in her writing in referring to the protagonist as we. The masterstroke of the stage adaptation, then, is this concept where you have five different actresses portraying the same character, also portraying the other people in. In her life in order to necessitate scenes. They depict her son, they depict, briefly, lovers, but we really don't hear that much from them, which I think is hugely novel in and of itself, because especially as she ages, especially as she regains sexual agency and really takes control of that aspect of her romantic life, we have seen before the handful of different theatrical pieces talking about the relationships between older women and younger men, talking about women at finding sexual liberation, but so rarely is it done so wholeheartedly from the female perspective. And this, which is entirely centered around her emotional response to these different love affairs and how they make her feel and how they shape her life, feels, like I said, profoundly more novel, but also important and destigmatizing as well. The British reaction to this, I feel, might be that this is a play that talks a surprising amount about sex. We historically can have a very conservative reaction to those sorts of topics. Topics. But this play does a fantastic job in asserting the idea that it's just another component of humanity. And, hey, it's French. So let's talk a little bit more about that particular casting masterstroke here, which really makes this production. So dividing the role between these five different actresses works brilliantly on a number of levels. First of all, I think it's a little more interesting than the usual sort of three or two age split that we more often see on stage. It works from an aspect of, you know, just demonstrating her changing as she ages us, being able to meet a new version of her as she reinvents herself or finds herself changed by the roles forced onto her, finds herself changed by Motherhood finds herself changed by the way that society is seeing her differently. We see her differently, represented by a different person. So we're able to connect to that. But it also, like I alluded to before, it democratizes her experience. And it speaks to the universality of it and how, you know, that she is this one woman, but she is also so many women. She's every woman, like Chaka Khan, only French. Tout les femmes. She is tout les femmes. And it also empowers each of these five actresses to bring a different characterization to that moment of her life, to those years of her journey. Beginning with Harmony Rose Bremner, who plays her in the years of her adolescence leading up to puberty. But certainly there is already an inclination towards, you know, the prospect of adulthood and what lies beyond and the sexual awakening that will come with that. There is a knowledge of all of that on the horizon. But also she has this charming naivety and this innocence. But it's the impatience with which I think she is principally characterized. We can feel that yearning to progress to the next chapter, Harmony, once she has finished inhabiting the central character and becomes a part of the ensemble, facilitating the rest of the performance and playing other, other roles. Also provides a lot of music and sings beautifully on a couple of occasions. Because there are a couple of musical moments. Don't worry, it's still a play. But we are next passing the theatrical basketball, as it were, to Anjuli Mahindra, who will play our central protagonist during her teenage years, a time which can be characterized by an enormous amount of change and by a willingness to adapt and an eagerness to adapt, and a sort of a lack of sense of self and certainty and conviction. There is a palpable anx, anxiety and a sense of fear in much of what she plays in these moments, as well as a sort of an uncomfortable restlessness. It's during this particular chapter that she has, on many different fronts, a more substantial sexual awakening, played initially for comic effect and then subsequently with significantly more gravity, culminating in what will transpire next when we pass the action again to another performer, Romula Ghorai. By this point, we are cresting the hill of the narrative. And we meet this character a little more confident, a little more established, wielding a little more power in terms of her own sexual agency, but quite quickly having to deal with the. The implications of that in a time period prior to the widespread availability of contraceptive birth control, the consequence of which is the play's most impactful scene, which I am going to talk about in this review, but I am going to do so a little bit later and I'm going to give you a spoiler warning as well as a content advisory before I do so. I will say this again, but it is pivotally important that you look at the trigger warnings, the content advisories for this play before booking to go and see it. People have been having reactions, but as well as the stunning acting that Romula Garai does in that particular moment in the scenes which follow, we can so clearly infer her fatigue and her sense of disappointment in everything she does. Whether it's earlier in the play when she is playing an obnoxious man, whether it's in her own moment as our protagonist when she is either wearily embracing motherhood or defying its arrival at some personal cost, everything she does is performed with such extraordinarily raw emotional vulnerability. She has already been brilliant this past year on stage in London because she was fantastic in the play Giant, and she is now heading towards awards season with two for two fantastic stage performances. Surely a huge rising theatrical star to watch now. It stands to reason that human beings become increasingly complex over time, and Gina McKee's portion of this story, I think, is the most captivating and the one that you really have to dig into. There is such nuance to her choices and so much more depth to every decision that she is making. The relationships which are being depicted, those with her growing sons, those with lovers that she may be taking, and her perspective on those, it's really fascinating. And the way that Gina plays each of these moments in each of these relationships with that steely, searching gaze of hers feels very much like a woman regaining control, making choices to take back her own life and do so on her own terms, but with a weakness there. Enduringly, it feels like there's a lingering pain, but also, for the first time as we reach this point, a real sense of apprehension as she becomes aware of the future and starts to glimpse forward, sort of sorrowful about the years already traversed, which she can't get back. Finally, though, when the brilliant Deborah Findley takes the helm, there is this sense of a woman a little more resolute, firmly confident in her convictions, still wary of what the years ahead may bring. But there's something that Deborah brings to her performance in this piece that conveys such a relaxed ease. We see that throughout the Thing, she has so many small comic moments when facilitating other roles. In the section beforehand, there had been a very whimsical depiction of a workout class where she, in the Second row demonstrably isn't able to keep up with the other participants as they're dancing along to oh, what's the song? Oh, tell it to my heart Tell me I'm the only one. What a banger. And the togetherness of this ensemble is so beautiful to watch as well. The way that they support and reassure and comfort each other. With the exception of one particular scene. We have reached that time. It is time for us to talk about the most talked about scene from this play, the most impactful, the most challenging in many ways, presumably to perform, but certainly to watch. This is going to be a substantial spoiler alert for something that happens in the middle of the piece. And to give you a little bit of a sense of what that is up top, you should already have skipped ahead if you don't want to have the spoiler. This is a recreation by Romola Garai of having to go through the act of labor after undergoing an abortion. This coming on the heels of a depiction of a very brief attempt to self administer an abortion. And the physical reaction in the audience I have been alluding to is reports of multiple theater goers fainting. This had already been talked about and written about from the run at the Almeida, before I even went to go and see it this evening. So I was aware of this and I encourage you to be aware of it as well. Putting the triggering aspects of it aside for just one moment, the theatrical aspect of it is so genius because this is really the only moment in the piece where the rest of the company stand apart and they watch, stood the four of them together from the back corner with regret and with concern. But this is something that Romola, as the character did in the moment, truly has to endure alone. That sense of isolation feels so oppressive. The way that this section is worded is brutal and harrowing and visceral. You can so acutely feel the pain and the detail of that process. It's in those details. It's the description of the weight of the thing physically and the uncomfortable technical details. I'm not going to impart any of them to you here, but there is also a visual component. You don't see a fetus depicted, but you do see blood. And for what is otherwise a very sort of black and white, not many props, inclusive production. This is a startling flash of colour and like I said, said, it's a difficult scene, but it's also a hugely necessary scene because after we get past that, once we're out of it, you so profoundly feel the weight of what this meant for women at the time, this consequence of a pleasure to which they are entitled to by their humanity and the medical interventions not yet afforded to them. Of course, this is also a contentious issue. It's going to be a conversation starter. But as far as the rest of this piece goes, dramatically, you understand what it means when the contraceptive pill then comes in. You understand what it means for her to embark on any future relationships, the relationship that she then has with her husband, with her children. The gravity of the whole thing is rooted in us having shared that incredibly painful and difficult moment with her. Carrying on. Then let's talk about some of the other creative aspects in bringing this production to the stage. I want to talk about the costumes. I want to talk about the design. I want to talk about the direction. The set has been designed by Jewel Decker. The costumes by Rebecca Wurman. As always, I apologize unreservedly if I am mispronouncing your European names. I am so sorry. And visually, we find ourselves in a stark black space. There is a circular track along which a few pieces of scenery are pushed in a sort of a rotating pattern. Some of these are little plastic platforms that house instruments. Others take custody of little props. They are used to invoke the idea of 9 11, when that is referenced, obviously towards the end of the narrative. But the strongest set design here, in terms of the visuals, is a central kitchen table. Just a standard contemporary table, but covered with a white tablecloth. And we will see many such tablecloths throughout the piece. It is upon this tablecloth that a young version of our protagonist discusses the recent years of the Second World War with the women of older generations in her family, a war that she was not alive for, but one that surely shaped the years that would follow in France. It is on another such tablecloth that she is lying when she receives and attempts to administer what is called a kitchen table abortion. There is the cloth which becomes brandished as a flag in the march for women's liberation and gender equality. There is the tablecloth that gets covered in food when her sons are playing with each other as young children. There is the tablecloth upon which wine is spilled on a late summer's evening. There is the tablecloth with a little prosecco scattered on it, with confetti stuck on top of that, when they are celebrating the new millennium and pondering whether Y2K will actually bring any kind of consequences, all of which are hung in a sort of a semicircular arc along the back wall of the playing space and subsequently removed and elevated into the sky to rotate above the heads of these performers. This is the hugely powerful final visual with which the piece concludes. By this point, we have traversed an entire lifetime. But the image there is familiar of childhood, of being a baby with a mobile spinning above your head. But also any imagery that talks about turning and talks about circles is talking about revolution and change and a lifetime and progression and, you know, that unending force. The idea of all of this taking place around a kitchen table is also hugely important to the identity of the piece. It's spoken about a lot in the material. This kind of a ritual that she is participatory in, initially as a child, then sort of uncomfortably betwixt generations, and then finally as the oldest participant, as the oldest generation in this ritual of gathering around a kitchen table as they talk about what's happening in the world. The costume design, I also think, is exceptional. They are all wearing plain black and white elements from different time periods. It's a little challenging to place. And it's not that each individual is specifically tethered to a time period they don't feel explicitly. There are details of it in some of the cuts that feel a little more associated with some years than others. But it's not going out of its way to assert that. Instead, what we get is just a sort of a sense of subtle progression, because as we continue further through the years, of the years, there are layers removed as society becomes a little less conservative with its attire. There are skirts discarded in favor of trousers when this became more of an option. There are hemlines that get a little bit higher, just suggesting that idea of the liberation that occurred. But the implementation of all of these design choices are among the brilliant, brilliant aspects of Aline Arbo's direction here. It's such a meaningfully put together piece. It's the kind of piece of theatre that you would go back a second time and you would find so many new details in. You would see details in the reactions of this company to scenes happening prior in their version of the character's lifetime. You would see the younger versions reacting to things that would happen after theirs. There's something impossibly challenging and yet beautiful about simply depicting humanity on stage and via a sensational ensemble cast, delicately and intimately sharing this piece. Piece of very honest storytelling. That is what has happened here at the Harold Penta Theatre. I cannot recommend this enough, as I mentioned before. Please do acquaint yourself with the content advisories, with the trigger warning before booking a ticket to go and see this play. But once you've done that, I hugely encourage you to do so. I think it is just fantastic. Thank you so much for listening to this review. I hope that you have enjoyed. If you did, make sure to subscribe to my theatre themed YouTube channel or follow me on podcast platforms for many more reviews coming very soon. As always, let me know what you thought about the years if you've seen it already in the comments section down below. If anyone saw the Dutch production of this, please let us know what that was like as well. I hope that everyone is staying safe and that you have a stagey day. For 10 more seconds, I'm Mickey Jo Theatre. Oh my God. Hey, thanks for watching. Have a stagey day. Subscribe.