So Young – Stuck in the midlife crisis with you

#theatre #boundedimagination

Warning: Contains some mild spoilers

So Young is a play about five people, one of whom is dead. Central to the play is Helen, who died of Covid but around whose absence the remaining characters continue to orbit. We are witness to a single evening when couple Davie (Andy Clark) and Liane (Lucianne McEvoy) are invited by Milo (Robert Jack), Helen’s widower, to meet Milo’s new girlfriend Greta (Yana Harris). At twenty years old, Greta dramatically fails the ‘half + 7 rule’ for forty-something Milo, and his friends are unsurprisingly unimpressed. What follows is an evening of escalating strife as tempers rise as fast as glasses of wine get downed, and each friend wrestles with grief, death, aging and loss in their own way.

The 2025 production of So Young performed at the Citizens Theatre in Glasgow is superbly acted, with Liane frequently stealing the show with biting diatribes on the folly of men. All actors bring copious energy and pathos to the play, managing to navigate the fine balance between comedy and tragedy. And this is necessary, because from the first minute So Young is fighting a rearguard action against the cliched nature of its subject matter. “Older man fucks younger women instead of dealing with his emotions” is after all a tale as old as time, or at least as old as English Literature professors, as Liane points out. Can So Young offer us something new?

The answer is an ambivalent “yes and no”. So Young very productively shifts the centrality of this story away from both the older man and the younger woman, instead putting the focus on Liane and her unresolved grief about the death of her friend. Liane is the real star of the show, and the only character with an emotional arc, going from feigned tolerance of Greta to belligerent disavowal, to cautious acceptance. Although the play cleverly alternates group settings with the pairing off of each potential dyad of characters, Liane is the motive force throughout, compelling the other characters to react to her. At its best, the result is a powerful reflection on grief and friendship.

Unfortunately, despite frequent moments of brilliance and hilarity, So Young remains caught in the narrative cul-de-sac that is the midlife crisis cliche, because of the inherent difficulty of refreshing it. Inevitably both humour and pathos must spring from observations on diminished sex drive, faltering careers, marital fissures, and above all an inability of adults to communicate except when lubricated by copious amounts of wine. So Young further handicaps itself by buying instant laughs with a steady stream of revelations from Milo and Greta (‘we’re in love, we’re engaged, we’re getting married next month, we’re moving to London’), at the expense of the otherwise serious note it is trying to hit. Milo and Greta’s relationship is unnecessarily over the top. Had Greta instead been 28 and Helen’s death a year ago, the play would arguably have worked better, creating at least a chance of portraying Milo as a sympathetic and understandable character. The widower who after a year tentatively tries to move on with a new partner, and who is aware that she is borderline too young, has more potential than the traditional man-child who hides from his emotions in the bed of a girl half his age.

It is not only Greta and Milo’s relationship, but also the characters themselves which further weaken the play. Milo’s man-child stereotype may be funny, but by its very nature it is arrested in its development and hence devoid of complex motivations or emotions, which means it isn’t really interesting. Lacking compelling interiority, the man-child is neither a compelling subject nor a useful lens through which to reflect on society more broadly, a flaw that also marred Margaret Atwood’s novel Oryx & Crake. And insofar as Milo proclaims his reaosns for loving Greta, the situation gets worse. For with the narcissism typical of a toddler, all his reasons are about how Greta makes Milo feel. None are about who Greta herself is. Milo’s love is based on the complete objectivication of Greta, using her to achieve an emotional fulfillment that he is too immature to attain himself.

Where Milo’s interest in Greta is egotistic, Greta’s interest in Milo is entirely unexplained. Not that So Young requires the love interest to have any agency or motivation, but in failing to provide either, it prevents Greta from acting as the counterpoint to Liane in the way the play implies she might. Greta’s forceful retort that she is not in this relationship because of unresolved daddy issues would have been significantly more persuasive if we had been given any insight into what attracts her to Milo. Do they share a passion for travel? A love of the performing arts? A commitment to revolutionary socialism? The only thing we do know is that they do not share their respective social circles, and it is legitimate to ask what a 20-year-old would get from a partner who is otherwise completely detached from her life.

What we are missing here is context. In So Young, we have four individuals and the links between them, but not the wider social ecosystem in which they are embedded. That is not surprising, and So Young is far from unique in this. The ‘common sense’ of our times is that we are not a society, but a collection of individuals with particular relations to one another. But humans are social creatures. We aren’t atoms linked to other atoms by unchangeable bonds, but parts of complex and dynamic social ecosystems. We can only be understood through the whole web of relationships we create.

Isolation from social context is also at the root of the clichés that So Young interrogates, but ultimately cannot challenge because it accepts the premise that they have some universal truth. Again, it is hard to fault the play because our culture does regard the midlife crisis, the manchild, the poorly communicating couple, as universally recognisable archetypes and patterns. Yet our familiarity with these clichés obscures their historical and geographical contingency and how they are resultant from how contemporary society is organised. Would Davie fear old age if we revered the wisdom of our elders in the same way as the virility of our young? Would Milo have the same escapist urge if we continued to have transcendental experiences throughout our life? Would all of us communicate better if we had more quality time for our partners, family and friends?

These are the sort of questions a play could ask, but So Young ultimately doesn’t. In this, it is not unlike Make It Happen. Both plays offer powerful critiques of the world we live in. Both plays combine dark comedy with searing insights and genuine pathos. Yet both plays remain stuck within the limited imaginative horizon of contemporaneous bourgeois discourse and are therefore both left with nowhere for their critique to go. In So Young, this is most palpably felt at the conclusion, where after many narrowly averted fallings-out our friends agree to go forward together. It is a brave and mature attempt to resolve the play’s central problem, but ultimately fails to convince because we have not been offered any reason to redeem Milo, and because beyond that, it i not transformative. So Young shows that we can potentially overcome our crises of middle age, but never wonders if what it would take to build a world where we might not suffer them in the first place.

Notes & Suggestions

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