Review: CARE (Young Vic)

Review by Daz Gale

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There is a fear shared by many people around the world, though seldom spoken about - getting old. The fear of our bodies and minds deteriorating beyond our control, or watching it happen to our loved ones. It is accepted as a fact of life, but it isn’t a subject addressed much in everyday conversation or, indeed, in the media. Alexander Zeldin is attempting to shine a light on this under-explored topic, with the English language premiere of CARE. Set entirely in a care home, could this play handle its sensitive topic with care itself, or would it struggle to connect, leaving audiences failing to care?

CARE focuses on one family who have been rocked with grief and experienced their fair share of death. When Joan takes a fall, she is moved to a care home for her short-term recovery. Or so she believes. Unbeknownst to her, her daughter, Lynn, has moved her there for the rest of her days, with it becoming clear her deteriorating health has been caused by more than the fall. As Lynn and her two sons attempt to come to terms with the inevitable loss of their mother/grandmother, Joan has to live with other elderly people, each with health problems of their own. Could she find joy in a place she has no interest in being, and what will it take for the family to move on from their grief?

Here is a play that packs a punch, filling itself with some of the biggest themes imaginable, all with a shifting tone. There is a balance of light and dark, with no shortage of laugh-out-loud moments, particularly in the first half of the play, though this slowly subsides as the real emotional weight of the story is brought to the surface. Life is rarely as black and white as it can be made out to be, and this is reflected in Alexander Zeldin’s exceptional writing. Quite fittingly, he has taken immeasurable care in the crafting of this play, beautifully representing the joy that can be found in the most surprising of moments, and the deepest fears that reside inside most human beings.

The themes that are covered touch upon all aspects of older people living in care homes, with the inherent loneliness these residents face, and the element of neglect. Moments where the residents complain about being left in their own mess, and presumed exaggerations about how the overworked and exhausted staff are mistreating them, had me wondering if CARE was going to go down a path of elder abuse. While this is touched on incredibly fleetingly, that is not the focus of this play. Instead, CARE focuses on the humanity inside the story and the conflicting feelings that come with nearing the end, facing mortality and saying goodbye to the people who gave birth to you.

CARE doesn’t attempt to gloss over some of the less glamorous moments of the situation, with an uncomfortable yet important scene involving Joan, played out in near-silence as the play draws to its climax. It is that level of detail and, again, care that cements the integrity and intelligence of Zeldin’s writing. However, it is the sheer love he has for the subject matter that comes across in his work, resulting in a show that can prove powerful, poignant, life-affirming and thought-provoking. People will relate to this show in different ways - whether they have had to deal with the loss of a parent, or fear the day they need to say goodbye. One thing is for certain: you would need to have a heart of stone not to feel anything watching this story.

At 2 hours and 10 minutes without an interval, CARE can be a hard watch, but the time goes by quickly, never outstaying its welcome. It may feel rather long for a one-act play, but an interval would risk losing the momentum. Watching this from start to finish, even as time progressed, reeled the audience in and ensured they were more engaged as time went on. Sometimes, people can get restless as a play progresses and the rustling of sweets, checking of phones or muttering to the person next to them becomes more of a frequent occurrence. CARE has the opposite effect - as the play progressed, it became quieter and quieter, with the last ten or so minutes taking place in near utter silence. You would be forgiven for thinking people in the audience weren’t breathing, such is the nature of how engrossed with the climactic scenes they were - a testament to both the brilliance of Alexander Zeldin’s writing and direction.

Having Zeldin direct the play he has written ensures his vision can be realised fully. Another director unfamiliar with his intent may have opted to cut the longer, slower scenes, or wrap them up sooner than they were here. Zeldin knows the importance of letting these moments breathe, so that Joan in her latter days can be played out in silence without ever risking being boring, or even the solitary cast member who sits on the stage for a fair while as the audience file in. It is through his direction that he conveys these themes of loneliness and the care taken by the professionals responsible for guiding our loved ones through their final days.

How do you die? That is the question. Not in real life, on the stage. It has been a bugbear of mine in some shows I have seen in recent months, where an emotional death is undone through a strange directional choice (mentioning no names, The Hunger Games). As the actors don’t die for real (nobody wants a performance THAT authentic), there is the question of them leaving the stage without losing the escapism, or even making it laughable. Zeldin handles this beautifully. Not to give away who doesn’t survive the play or how they leave the stage, but I will say it is wonderfully done, feeling true to the story and offering an idea of birth and rebirth. Linked to this, there are a few moments where the fourth wall risks being broken, with characters seemingly referencing the theatre and audience (though this is open to interpretation). It gives the sense that we are the audience at this care home, rather than a theatre, and questions our ability to connect with these characters without neglecting them - again signifying the intelligence and thought-provoking nature of both Zeldin’s writing and direction.

The Young Vic is one of the more versatile spaces for its configuration styles, and here CARE fills one end with a sprawling stage that resembles the care home in which the story is set. Rosanna Vize’s set design is authentic and detailed in its realisation, representing the cold and clinical nature of the care home, with some fleeting moments of personality. An unexpected transformation near the end tries to pepper in some more personal touches in a juxtaposition with the backdrop of its clinical nature. James Farncombe’s lighting similarly matches this, in a constant presence that has some interesting and deliberate flickers throughout, leading to prolonged and uncomfortable blackouts, used to remarkable effect.

Its creative elements may all be strong, but it is the cast that brings CARE to life with such sensitivity and precision. Joan’s fellow residents all have moments to shine, coming together to form an ensemble full of comedic moments, though offering a bigger picture of the different ways minds deteriorate with age, and how the people caring for them treat them. Ann Mitchell has some brief but memorable moments as Agnes, even sounding a bit like Liza Minnelli at one point. Diana Payan gives a delicate portrayal of Paula, with Richard Durden managing to be sweet, charismatic and ultimately heartbreaking as John. Hayley Carmichael sets herself apart from the others with the exaggerated and erratic Simone, showing a very different side that is played for laughs until the real reasons for her behaviour emerge.

Aoife Gaston is underused but still a delight as Fanta, a new employee at the care home, mirroring Joan’s status as a new resident. Llewella Gideon leaves a much bigger impression as Hazel, the main carer for the residents, filling her performance with heart, humour and humanity. The affection she has for those she cares for is always clear in Gideon’s performance, and the comments on how overworked and exhausted she is give a clear representation of the state of some of these carers. 

Ultimately, CARE is about Joan’s family. Rosie Cavaliero plays her daughter, Lynn, in an initially brash and dismissive performance. Though Lynn doesn’t speak too much about the tragedy in her own life, comments from her children and mother show this is a woman with her own demons and struggles. Cavaliero represents the woman trying to get by with little means in a brilliantly raw and real manner, with her terrified refusal to let go of her mother one of the more emotional aspects of the play. William Lawlor is largely enigmatic as Laurie, Lynn’s teenage son, but gets one of the more powerful moments in the play with a large payoff. His constant fighting with his younger brother Robbie (alternated with Ethan Mahony and Charlie Webb) feels very relatable, as much as it is played for laughs.

Though this play has many characters, Joan is at the heart of CARE, proving the one connection between the fellow residents, staff and, of course, her family. So it is fitting that the actress portraying her delivers the standout performance of the play. What Linda Bassett achieves in this role is nothing short of remarkable, channeling every conflicting emotion Joan is feeling. From a stubborn refusal to realise her own deteriorating health to questioning her own purpose in these later years, while not wanting to die, there are some heavy, heart-wrenching moments in Bassett’s portrayal. There are also moments of joy, such as the key scenes with some of her fellow residents. Bassett showcases all of her versatility as a performer in this powerhouse performance, offering all of the tools in her armour in what must be an incredibly demanding yet faultlessly portrayed characterisation.

CARE does everything theatre should do. It may not be the easiest of watches at times, but its ability to make you laugh and cry in quick succession makes you feel alive. That is the most exceptional thing about Alexander Zeldin’s writing - in a play that talks about death repeatedly, it ultimately proves life-affirming. I dare say most people leaving the theatre will be thinking about hugging their loved ones tight next time they see them, or thinking about those people they are no longer able to do that with. Though the themes at the heart of CARE are not often spoken about, Zeldin has opted not to sensationalise anything, instead offering a sensitive and delicate exposition of what happens to so many in their later years. One of the most profoundly moving and deeply affecting pieces of theatre I have seen in years, the great care that has been taken in bringing CARE to life should be commended. This may only be the first outing for this English translation, but it isn’t hard to see that there is plenty of life left in it yet.

CARE plays at the Young Vic until 11th July. Tickets from https://www.youngvic.org/whats-on/care

Photos by Johan Persson