There is a piquant idea behind this devised show about ageing presented by Fevered Sleep in the Young Vic's Maria studio: it is performed by seven children, of whom the oldest is 13. As they solemnly mouth the sentiments of their elders ("I think you always feel the same-no matter what age you are") you get a vivid demonstration of the Brechtian alienation-effect at work.
Directed by David Harradine and Sam Butler, the show is sustained by two basic notions: children live in the immediate present while ageing is a process of accumulation of memories and objects. The two ideas come together in a dominant visual metaphor: we watch the children playfully fill the stage with a mountain of clutter. At first they are things associated with childhood: balloons, toys, rocking-horses. But, as the objects go on to include TV sets, record-players, lawn mowers, chairs, lamp-standards, mirrors, musical instruments, they come to represent the stuff we remorselessly acquire with age. And, at the back of the stage, lurks a skeleton to remind us of the ultimate reality.
Much of the show is funny: there is an obvious humour about hearing a child reporting that "I think skin-care is very important". But occasionally cuteness intrudes: when a tiny seven-year-old stands on an encyclopedia in order to speak into a microphone, there are cries of "Aah" from the front row. More seriously, I was reminded that devised pieces often treat as major discoveries things writers have frequently told us. Chekhov's Uncle Vanya perfectly embodies one of the show's key points: the disjunction between ageing flesh and giddiness of spirit. Even the idea that we end up stifled by a sea of inert matter is expressed by Ionesco's The New Tenant in which an empty room fills up with an oppressive maze of furniture.
Even if the show told me little new, the performers are a pleasure to watch. They immerse themselves in their tasks with deep seriousness as if preoccupied by the eternal present. Yet they articulate the paradox of ageing which is that the body decays faster than the human spirit: "When I had my first hip-replacement, I had a party," announces a young girl while a boy tells us: "I get very horny – it's just hard to do anything about it." As an oldie myself, I wasn't too surprised by the show's observations. What makes them refreshing is hearing them uttered with such unself-conscious directness by children who have a life ahead of them.
