Care at the Young Vic

The grimness of care homes for the elderly is an inconvenient truth we tend to ignore – either out of guilt for the loved ones we have left there, or the fear we will end up there ourselves. In Care, writer/director Alexander Zeldin doesn’t shy away from the unfortunate reality of these institutions, instead dramatising them in all their depressing, boring and occasionally hilarious glory. Showing now at the Young Vic, Care is an unflinching and strikingly accurate depiction of the end of a life – not with a bang but a whimper – that offers plenty of tender moments.

When the ageing Joan suffers a fall, she is dropped off at the care home by her recently widowed daughter, Lynn. Joan insists to the other residents that she will be returning to Lynn’s soon, but with her thoughts increasingly muddled, it’s obvious to everyone else that such a homecoming is impossible. Though her mind is failing, she’s aware enough to be horrified at her surroundings, baffled by the ravings of her new roommates, and terrified of the impending end of her life. Lynn, meanwhile, is riddled with indecision and guilt about leaving her mother in such a place, but has her hands full with her two teenage sons, each struggling in their own way to deal with their father’s death.

One has to imagine that Zeldin has seen the aged care system first-hand, as his observations of life in a care home are stunningly realistic. The desperation of some to come home, the vacant stares of others, the kindly but pragmatic nurse just doing her best to get by – every element is rendered with lifelike detail. By presenting the care home in such an unfiltered way, Zeldin is able to capture both heartrending tragedy and the inherent comedy of a gang of friends who are losing their minds.

This hyper-realism is enhanced by a fantastically detailed set from Rosanna Vize (complete with a few slick scene changes) and some standout performances. Hayley Carmichael is wonderfully batty as the youngest resident, an unloved and presumably drug-addled former sex worker, while Llewella Gideon offers equal measures of warmth and practicality as head nurse Hazel (an instantly recognisable character to anyone familiar with care homes).

Care is a slow burn, and though it’s probably by design – Zeldin mimicking the drudgery and repetition of life in a care home – it does stretch the viewer’s patience at 130 minutes without an interval. And while Joan’s situation is tenderly portrayed, the rest of her family’s story is less developed. Narrative strands are introduced without being fully explored, like Robbie’s overeating or the true nature of Lynn’s husband’s death (a slightly melodramatic and unlikely reveal).

Still, Zeldin makes up for these shortcomings by delving so deeply into subject matter the rest of us might care to avoid. Care offers a reflection on grief and death that is thoughtful, moving and often funny.