Eline Arbo’s stage adaptation of Annie Ernaux’s Nobel Prize-winning memoir The Years arrives at the Harold Pinter Theatre with the same visceral power that marked its acclaimed run at the Almeida. This production, a kaleidoscopic journey through one woman’s life against the backdrop of post-war Europe, is both a technical marvel and an emotional gut-punch.
Five actors—Deborah Findlay, Romola Garai, Gina McKee, Anjli Mohindra, and Harmony Rose-Bremner—share the role of the unnamed protagonist, weaving a narrative that transcends individual performance to become a collective portrait of female existence.
Arbo’s direction thrives on juxtaposition. The play unfolds through a series of photographic “clicks,” each marking a pivotal moment in the protagonist’s life, from childhood in the rubble of WWII to grandmotherhood in the 2000s. Juul Dekker’s minimalist set—a circular stage draped with sheets that evolve into a hanging tapestry of memories—mirrors the fluidity of time.
The sheets, stained and transformed by each era, become a visual metaphor for the accumulation of experience, culminating in a haunting final image.
The ensemble cast is extraordinary. Romola Garai (through March 8) captures the raw turbulence of youth, particularly in a harrowing abortion scene that left audiences in stunned silence, and, made headlines during the Almeida run, when medical intervention was required for audience members, a scene repeated at this press performance at the Harold Pinter.
Gina McKee balances wry humor and quiet despair as the protagonist navigates midlife compromises, while Deborah Findlay delivers a masterclass in understated gravitas as the elder iteration, reflecting on a life both ordinary and extraordinary. The seamless transitions between actors—at one point, Garai and McKee speak in unison before the former fades into memory—highlight the play’s central themes.
Harmony Rose-Bremner and Anjli Mohindra show the youngest versions of our protagonist. Their portrayal of innocence, and innocence lost, is captivating and foreshadows what’s to come next.
Ernaux’s text, adapted by Arbo and translated by Stephanie Bain, doesn’t separate the personal from the political. The protagonist’s sexual awakening in the 1960s collides with France’s abortion debates; her middle-aged disillusionment parallels the rise of neoliberalism. Yet the play’s genius lies in its specificity: a sofa becomes a symbol of marital suffocation, while an exercise class injects unexpected levity. Thijs van Vuure’s sound design—a mix of period pop and dissonant strings—sharpens the tension between nostalgia and heartache.
As the protagonist observes, “Memory pairs the dead with the living,” and Arbo’s staging—aided by Varja Klosse’s chiaroscuro lighting—makes this pairing achingly tangible.
The Years is not an easy watch. Its graphic depictions of abortion and sexual coercion demand emotional fortitude, but just as in life, we battle through the tougher moments in order to experience the overall beauty and wonder of a life well lived.
And this is a play that is both beautiful and wondrous: a story that feels intimately personal yet universally resonant. By the final click of the imagined camera, the play achieves what all great memoirs aspire to—it becomes not just a record of one life, but a mirror held to our own.
