No country for old women: Old Ladies - at Finborough Theatre
The day after seeing The Old Ladies at the Finborough Theatre, I was describing the play to someone in great detail: about three old ladies who lived in a rickety house in southern England in 1935. Based on Hugh Walpole’s novel and adapted by Rodney Ackland, it is the sort of story with enough believability, humour and mild thriller to stick in your mind. Perhaps it is the lure of this dark, forboding tale of a life without money, to be alone and to be old, that makes you feel attracted to this poverty porn. But then again, given the state of the world, the cost of living, an ageing population, or just the fact that it’s a dog-eat-dog world, it might as well be an every little old lady-for-herself, too. It’s a well-acted and staged piece that moves at a brisk pace, so there isn’t much time to think about it too much. And in the intimate (or should that be claustrophobic?) space of the Finborough, there’s nowhere to avert your eyes. Even if you wanted to.
The scene is a grim Cathedral town in southern England. Three old ladies are renting rooms in a draughty old house. Through misfortune, lost income or bad health, they don’t have much money and are struggling to get by in the autumn years of their lives. It’s also the mid-1930s, so there is the aftermath of the Great Depression to contend with.
May (Catherine Cusack) is a recent arrival at the guesthouse. She has a weak heart and a generally nervous disposition, having arrived from a seaside town looking for work when her meagre savings run out. But May also has one prized possession: a piece of amber given to her by a dear friend who is no longer around. May is met by a friendly Lucy (Julia Watson) who invites her for a cup of tea and a biscuit. Lucy is hopeful of hearing from her son, who hasn’t written in over a year. She is also hopeful a rich cousin will make good on a promise to leave her money in his will. Meanwhile, in the other room, Agatha (Abigail Thaw) confines herself mostly to her room and eats exotic delicacies such as nougat. She moves about slowly and deliberately. But recognises the value of May’s prized possession and wants to get her hands on it.
The action moves so quickly, even if the old ladies don’t. Ackland’s adaptation pares things down to the bare essentials. In the opening scenes with their grim discussions about money and poverty, when one character mentions it is also Christmas Eve, the audience bursts out laughing. The context of the discussion seems at odds with the season of goodwill. But it’s nervous laughter. None of us wants to feel like we would ever be in that situation, fantasising about an inheritance or wondering how we would get a job when we should be opening presents around a Christmas Tree. But maybe one day we could be.
The subject matter could easily descend into overacting, but the piece is kept finely balanced between the situation’s believability and its melodrama. Sound and lighting add to the atmosphere so that the ultimate conclusion, while predictable, lands with a dramatic whallop. Ultimately, the message is that being old and being alone is a fate worse than death.
Directed by Brigid Larmour, The Old Ladies is at the Finborough Theatre until 19 April. It’s the first London production in over 30 years, and hopefully we won’t have to wait this long to see it again. Some of us will be too old to get out.
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Photos by Carla Joy Evans
