Annie Ernaux is an individual who needs little introduction. Genre-bending author of an extensive, critically-acclaimed oeuvre. Nobel Laureate in literature, 2022. Nothing encapsulates Ernaux's ability to construct such an intimate portrait of a life than her 2008 memoir The Years. Adapted into a play by Eline Arbo for the Dutch audience, and subsequently revised by Stephanie Bain for London stages, The Years gained praise at the Almeda Theatre before now making its transfer to the Harold Pinter.
A dynamic cast of just five perform and narrate the life of Annie, managing to switch effortlessly between roles. The narratorial style, along with the occasional fourth walk break, allows for the prose of the book to be maintained, as well as create a kind of respectful distance between the story told by the women on stage and the "real" life of Ernaux - a charm that would be lost in an overly polished Hollywood biopic, a genre which inevitably seems to do an injustice to the legacies of beloved figures.
Youthful Annie is vivacious, headstrong, and a little sex obsessed (though perhaps no more than the rest of us). As decades pass, we see her evolve and mature before our eyes, gaining knowledge and resilience in the face of trauma, and never quite losing her lust. The group establish each stage of Annie's life by reminiscing over, and describing to us, an old photograph, and in turn they introduce which Annie we are to see: her age, her style, her intellect or naivety. telling us directly the kind of woman Annie is during this period. The on stage dynamic is almost banterous.
Maybe this is an experience we might wish we could all have: the chance to converse around a kitchen table with all the different versions of ourselves, acting out our life (lives?) with all the optimism of our youth and all the wisdom of age. To be in the company of those that know our experiences the most intimately, sometimes making fun, or sometimes opting to cover up our embarrassing moments.
Staging was minimal, bare, but with an additive use of props (something possibly Jamie Lloyd could learn from). With each vignette the table is set with a pristine white cloth, dirtied, and then hung up at the perimeter of the stage - a literal airing of dirty laundry? As the play continues these personal tapestries accumulate, and serve as a reminder of the events, the trauma, that shape our Annie; the moments of mess that make a person.
There was one point in the play where Annie (as played at this point by Gina McKee) looks to her co-star Deborah Findlay almost desperate for reassurance, in a way that felt almost too real, blurring the line between character and actor. She receives a nod, composes herself, and continues on. In this moment there was this realisation for me of the kind of toll a production such as this must take, the demands it asks of the actors. This play makes its mark on the cast too, not just its audience.
With this, I must talk about what is quite possibly the most haunting scene I have ever seen depicted on stage. A kitchen table abortion, described in immensely graphic detail, Romola Garai's performance here so powerfully embodies a sense of pure brutal horror. The tension in the room at this point was like nothing I have ever felt in a theatre. This part of the production has gained attention for its ability to cause attendees to faint, and the night I attended was no exception, the performance had to be stopped not just once but twice in order to attend to members of the audience. I would like to take the opportunity to commend the staff at the Harold Pinter Theatre for their preparedness and professionalism.
Towards the end the production loses its gravity slightly, we never quite reach a final euphoric peak of optimism, of hope, nor do we extend the same graphic intensity of the midpoint. The play's final moments are more of a palate cleanser: light, refreshing, but not overly substantial.
The Years is undoubtedly a play for our time, for all time, exploring themes deeply important, and may serve as formative, even necessary viewing for those of generations both young and old. Harmony Rose-Bremner, Anjli Mohindra, Romola Garai, Gina McKee and Deborah Findlay should forever be remembered for their wholehearted and unwavering commitment to their roles, providing us with some of the most profound performances one could ever wish to see. ★★★★☆
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