Review by
Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Henk Pretorius
Starring: Diana Quick, Bernard Hill, Stephanie Beacham, Amy Tyger, Mark Jackson, Anna Wolf
According to Wikiquote, forlorn philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer
characterises happiness as a phenomenon which is "lent by chance for an
uncertain time": that the state of happiness is a delusion, merely an
imagined phase which is projected into the future. The morose Teutonic
pragmatist suggests that happiness (cf. contentment, safety, etc) is
something which we can only ever strive for, a mirage as comfortingly
make believe as Santa or heaven. When we are younger we find ourselves
agonising that if only I was more popular, better looking, that much
richer; aspirations which shrink to a more urgent and desperate craving
later when we are older and our simple, tragic wish becomes "If only I
was younger."
In Henk Pretorius' (with co-writing from
Jennifer Nicole Stang and Greg Blyth) complex symposium on
the vicissitudes of aging, Forever Young (no, not that
one, and not that one either: the ubiquity of the title perhaps
revealing of the phrase's widespread, yearning promise), septuagenarian
Robyn (Diana Quick) is offered the opportunity to turn back the
clock, to regain her youth via a preliminary formula (we've all imagined
such a tincture, or yet will). Might Robyn find contentment in an
extended chance at life, or (since I've got Wikiquote open) will she, in
another missive from our old pal Schopenhauer, discover that any gains
"sacrifice pleasure in order to avoid pain"?
There is much to cherish in this film, chiefly Quick's performance as
Robyn. An attractive older woman, Robyn is an author (Forever Young's aging populace consists of photographers, writers, musicians;
referring to Dorian Gray analogies of art and proxy immortalities), and
we catch up with her at an only so-so successful book reading. Except,
in the dwindled signing queue along comes old flame Jim (Julian Glover) with an indecent proposal - the "cure for regret." As they say, old
age doesn't come alone, and in an ensuing credits montage we see Robyn
stone faced staring into a hand mirror as if willing the rhytids away
and doing yoga workouts to stretch the body back into action (the
correlation with my own morning routines made me cringe- ☹). Social
interactions consist of hanging out at an old people's home with
declining peers (one of whom wets themselves, to which quick witted
Robyn spills a cup of tea over his crotch to save him the embarrassment:
we fall in love with her), and in the absence of all else the other of
life's certainties, aside from taxes, looms large.
Is it so bad, though? Married to Bernard Hill's Oscar, and in a
loving relationship (one of the aspects of
Forever Young which I found refreshing and, I'm going to
say it, important, was the notion that older people can enjoy a sexual
relationship: a nice palette cleanser after the witless "ugh old people"
twattery of stuff like
X) with a nice big house, it could be worse. Problem is though that
Robyn never had children, and this, perhaps, is the "regret" which the
sinister Jim alludes to in Forever Young's opening. Furthermore, perhaps we will soon discover that Robyn's
life with Oscar is too predicated upon a cruel timer...
Societal suggestions that women are unfulfilled unless they've had
children (google "Jennifer Aniston Children" if you feel like winding
yourself up) is odious for lots of reasons, but Pretorious isn't
suggesting a general malaise here - this is Robyn's truth. To emphasise
this, as Robyn does imbibe the formula (eventually morphing back from
Quick to 30ish actor Amy Tyger) Forever Young's scope opens up to take in different paradigms concerning aging and
how we cope with it. There is bf Jane (Stephanie Beacham -
"Mother!", etc) who resorts to disastrous plastic surgery in order to
turn back the clock; Jim (now played by Mark Jackson), whose
entire motivation in assembling the potion was to get to put one on
Robyn again and requite lost love; along with Jim's grown up indigent
daughter Anna (Anna Wolf) who has turned to bad drugs and
obligatory sex work in order to survive on the streets...
In the second act, the film settles into a lively chamber drama where
old secrets, betrayals and regrets resurface. Perhaps
Forever Young posits, especially in its haunting final
tableaus, that life is the thing, the here and the now, and that time is
an arrow, not a boomerang to spin back and knock us on the head. Viz.
casting the objectively hot (and apparently steadfastly opposed to
cosmetic surgery irl) Beacham as a woman petrified of losing her looks;
we could never, and it seems vain and somewhat greedy of Jane not to
accept the grace nature has afforded her. Then again, there is a moment
of wonder where priorly post-menstrual Robyn comes on again in a single,
ruby rivulet which drips down her leg and brings joy to her face. Maybe,
the film suggests, acceptance is always a compromise. I found the moment
quite moving, and I realise that I'm using personal pronouns a lot in
this review, but the intimate, emotional verisimilitude of
Forever Young engenders a subjective response.
At times, the film's ambition and sheer variety of ideas cannot quite
sustain itself. For example, although Wolf is good, I found the
presentation of Anna's destitution a little cartoony, and a distraction
from the stoic poignancy of Robyn and Oscar's negotiations. This feature
is an outlier aspect because otherwise, despite its universal themes,
Forever Young is resolutely British in its play-like
interactions and buttoned-down anxieties; Virginia Woolf's 'Orlando' via
Tales of the Unexpected's 'Youth from Vienna'. We end in ambiguity,
Forever Young far too respectful and sensitive to impose
any easy answers to the difficult ideas that it poses. Stick that in
your Schopenhauer.
Forever Young is in UK cinemas
from January 26th.
