The Years West End Reviews

t should be worn out of a badge of honour – a testament to The Years’s power to magic up emotion from simple ingredients. Bar a handful of dripping red, the abortion scene’s graphicness reverbs through collective imagination, germinating from E...

t should be worn out of a badge of honour – a testament to The Years’s power to magic up emotion from simple ingredients. Bar a handful of dripping red, the abortion scene’s graphicness reverbs through collective imagination, germinating from Ernaux’s precise but velvety language (deftly adapted by Stephanie Bain) and blossoming on stage from an-all-muscles-clenched Romola Garai. Arbo has woven a gorgeous interplay of stagecraft and storytelling that doesn’t just deserve a West End transfer but wholly justifies itself as theatrical adaptation.

Each actor brings a unique quality to the table: Mohindra is curious and watchful, and Rose-Bremner joyfully spirited. Garai embodies defiance, with Findlay restoring a sense of equanimity. McKee, meanwhile, seems to charge the audience, as she embar...

Each actor brings a unique quality to the table: Mohindra is curious and watchful, and Rose-Bremner joyfully spirited. Garai embodies defiance, with Findlay restoring a sense of equanimity. McKee, meanwhile, seems to charge the audience, as she embarks on an electrifying bender through the troughs and peaks of desire, grief, hilarity and hysteria.

What hasn’t arguably been seen on stage to such effect before (and it’s had audience-members fainting) is the re-enacting, by Romola Garai’s version of Annie, of an unwanted pregnancy and back-street abortion. It relays harrowing distress and s...

What hasn’t arguably been seen on stage to such effect before (and it’s had audience-members fainting) is the re-enacting, by Romola Garai’s version of Annie, of an unwanted pregnancy and back-street abortion. It relays harrowing distress and starkly emblemises the plight of generations of women – an indictment of the burden that fell on them before the supposed liberation of the contraceptive pill and rise of feminism.

Perhaps the most satisfying thing about Eline Arbo’s superb adaptation is that it projects this idea through, fittingly, one of the most truly collective performances London has seen in years. More than that, the communal embrace extends to the aud...

Perhaps the most satisfying thing about Eline Arbo’s superb adaptation is that it projects this idea through, fittingly, one of the most truly collective performances London has seen in years. More than that, the communal embrace extends to the audience, in ways that are not always comfortable – the life portrayed, from 1941 to 2006, has its share of hardship – but add to the play’s resonance and appeal. Brilliantly conceived, consummately choreographed and beautifully acted by its all-women cast, it is a bravura, and joyous feat of storytelling.

Its content is horrifyingly moving and one of the most important things you will see on stage in this or any year because it speaks so graphically to the very substance of The Years, to the pain, external control and physical impact of the twentieth ...

Its content is horrifyingly moving and one of the most important things you will see on stage in this or any year because it speaks so graphically to the very substance of The Years, to the pain, external control and physical impact of the twentieth century on women through the politicisation of their bodies. Transferring from the Almeida Theatre to the Harold Pinter Theatre, Eline Arbo’s stage adaptation of Annie Ernaux’s memoir is hugely affecting and deeply, deeply important.

The play explores how female sexuality is constantly invaded by toxic male entitlement, as men leer at the girl’s developing body, causing her to feel shame simply for existing in a female form. This invasion becomes all the more literal when she f...

The play explores how female sexuality is constantly invaded by toxic male entitlement, as men leer at the girl’s developing body, causing her to feel shame simply for existing in a female form. This invasion becomes all the more literal when she finds herself consummating her relationship with her crush, only for him to violate her. She notes that she does not ask to be pleasured as he uses her body as a vessel for gratification; to do so would be shameful. Mohindra gives a powerhouse performance during this harrowing scene, flitting between the roles of the abused and her abuser with cathartic finesse.

The production prompts big questions: Who are we supposed to be? How will we be remembered? The Years does not offer an answer, only the aching reminder of what we must ask ourselves before it’s too late, and to enjoy the time we have whilst we’r...

The production prompts big questions: Who are we supposed to be? How will we be remembered? The Years does not offer an answer, only the aching reminder of what we must ask ourselves before it’s too late, and to enjoy the time we have whilst we’re here. And what an enjoyable time it is to spend 2 hours in its company. I urge everyone to go.

Ernaux’s memoir defies form — it is both personal and objective, employing the collective ‘we’ to discuss communal experiences. The word ‘I’ is absent in her writing, but Arbo brings us even closer to Ernaux by relaxing this objective sta...

Ernaux’s memoir defies form — it is both personal and objective, employing the collective ‘we’ to discuss communal experiences. The word ‘I’ is absent in her writing, but Arbo brings us even closer to Ernaux by relaxing this objective stance in choice moments, such as a forced first sexual encounter and an abortion scene. The result of both is shattering, thanks to moving and raw performances by Mohindra and Garai. The latter performance, which has been the subject of numerous headlines since the play’s first UK outing at the Almeida Theatre in 2024, is particularly brave from Garai, as she bucks on a table, toes curling, her thighs coated in blood. The scene is horrific without being gratuitous, though the show’s well-signposted trigger warnings are much needed.