Such is the circle of life that after our elders look after us during childhood, we in turn look after them in their twilight years. Of course, that is easier said than done. It's a big commitment being attentive to family members approaching the end of their life, especially as their minds and bodies aren't as sharp or able. Much Ado About Dying, a documentary from Simon Chambers, is an unflinching insight into the years looking after his own uncle, an eccentric former actor.
Much Ado About Dying derives its title from how David, the 85-year-old at the centre of the film, is a Shakespeare lover. Living in an unkept London house, he calls Simon, who at this point is living out in India, proclaiming that he is dying. When Simon arrives, he doesn't find a dying man but a lonely soul bellowing out passages from King Lear. David is rather over-dramatic and loves attention — he comes alive when the camera is switched on and aimed at him. From the start, Simon has no patience for his extravagant and often cantankerous nature; David is a hoarder living in a mess full of rat droppings and expired soup cans, and refuses to move out into a care home.
Having Simon, an integral part of the narrative, as the director and producer certainly raises questions: is he purposefully making out David worse than what he truly is? If the rawness of the documentary is anything to go by, no. The end credits claim this is a “no-budget” production, and it certainly seems so from the often fuzzy visuals and the reliance on natural lighting, but it lends itself into the unflinchingly real observation. Most of the runtime is made up of watching David seated in his makeshift bed or pottering about his house. There are frank conversations between Simon and David; often comedic, often devastating.
One particular topic that comes up is their sexuality. Both Simon and David are gay men, but each has had very different experiences. Unlike Simon, David didn't come out to everyone until his sixties and never had boyfriends. The archetype of the ‘lonely queer individual' is something David lived through, and still lives through. Frustratingly, there are only two instances in the entire film when this theme is touched upon. There are a myriad of comments and ideas — the crumbling social system, the realities of the London lifestyle, taking advantage of the elderly, the work of the NHS and care homes — that aren't developed enough to make any kind of statement.
But seeing the everyday activities of a retired actor and his nephew begrudgingly acting as a carer is engaging enough. David was never a prolific actor, but he lights up the screen every frame he's in. Even as tragedy strikes, which here it does often, he carries on with a smile and a blissful attitude. Material possessions and nostalgic memories don't matter to him, living in the moment amongst company does. And Simon's annoyed outlook on the situation holds a mirror up to us before melancholy takes over him. Looking after our elders is a tiring, thankless job, and this documentary shows the reality many of us will eventually face.
For all the film's messiness, it still knocks you back with its stark depiction of life, and eventually death. It made me think about my grandma. In her early 90's, she still lives alone in her semi-detached house, tending to the garden when the weather is warm and falling asleep in her armchair. I try to call her once every week or so, but always make attempts to end the conversation when it drags on after fifteen minutes or so. Why does it feel like such a burden when all she wants is time to converse after spending another day most likely all on her own? It may be just another part of my busy day but to my grandma that short phone call is what keeps her going. All the world's a stage and the curtain falls sooner than later, so I'll be picking up that phone and calling my grandma after this sentence ends.
Much Ado About Dying releases in cinemas 3rd May
