Make 7 Up (and the rest) Yours

"Give me a child until he is seven, and I will give you the man." -- Jesuit saying

Hello all -- first things first, I want to apologize for the scarcity of posting as of late. It's been two weeks, and they've flown by for me. First I had problems connecting to the internet from my house, but even after that got fixed I didn't feel like writing for awhile. I've been a bit depressed over unemployment and other things; nothing serious, but when I get blue my desire to write vanishes posthaste. I will, as atonement, attempt to post pretty regularly for the next few days.

On to the fun stuff! Monday saw Alex and I watching 49 Up and thereby completing what has so far been made of the fascinating "Up Series" of documentaries. The story goes that in 1963, Granada television in Britain made a documentary about the lives of 14 British schoolchildren, all around the age of seven. They cut a wide swath through British society: upper class, lower class, city, country, suburban -- all kinds of children were involved. Granada sat them down and interviewed them on all sorts of topics: school, poor and rich people, the opposite gender, and their hopes for the future. I get the impression that, at first, no one knew if anything more would come of it, but director Michael Apted has gone back every seven years to revisit them and find out about their lives (as I said, they are through 49; 56 should come out in 2011 or 2012). Amazingly, all but two have stayed with the series somewhat consistently (a few drift in and out, disappearing for one but then coming back).

What exactly is the significance of these films (or, rather, film in the singular, as I think it should be regarded)? Originally it was to "get a glimpse into Britain's future"; Apted admits that the liberal Granada had somewhat of an agenda to stress the class differences between the children. Yet in the end, class comes up very little in the films. Early on Apted wisely abandoned any social agenda in favor of simply getting to know his subjects. This, I think, is the film's true power, that it deals in delicately human stories, never sacrificing personal intimacy for some overbearing attempt to find meaning. Put another way, it lets the characters speak for themselves, and though some are guarded, the end result is a startling display of honesty.

Accordingly, one of the biggest strengths of the filmmaking is simply getting the hell out of the way. I wholeheartedly salute Apted and Co. for making themselves mostly unobtrusive, and not trying to impress through ridiculous flourishes. With a few exceptions, the subjects are mostly filmed in their natural habitats, at home and comfortable. The camerawork tends to be simple but clean. Perhaps the only part of the film which really stands out is its editing. As the different segments come along, there is more and more material to be juggled (each installment tends to review the lives of the subjects up to that point by intercutting old footage), and the daunting task of picking the right clips is pulled off with aplomb.

As I mentioned, the real strength of the film is simply the concept itself. Though none of the children grew up to lead epic (or in a strict sense important) lives, each has something fascinating to offer: a window into the ways they have and have not changed since they were seven. Young compassionate Bruce, wanting to be a missionary, who grows up to teach in the inner city. Disenchanted Suzy, who spends two films utterly uninterested in life, only to turn into a loving wife and mother and find a delightful warmth. Bright eyed Neil, who finds himself cowed by the harsh realities of life, only to acheive a redemption of sorts. Upper class nitwit John, who stays the consumate snob through 21 only to become a kind, caring middle aged person. The wonderful thing about this is how open most of the subjects are, and how the very process of filming seems to open up their self-awareness. Things that remained stored in the back of their minds for years suddenly come spilling out on camera. One of my favorite examples of this is when Tony, the poor boy who dreamed of being a jockey, blurts out at age 21 that his greatest ambition would be to have a baby son, and that doing so would see his ambition fulfilled. "No one knows that, except you", he says sheepishly to the camera.

I would like to spend the rest of this post just describing some of the characters, that you would have your curiosity piqued and would want to discover their lives for yourself. Nicholas comes in at age 7 as the token country boy, very curious and cheerful, though sometimes guarded (his famous quote when asked about girls: I don't answer those sort of questions). At 14 he is a reclusive youth, his eyes avoiding the camera. Yet he dreams big: escaping the confines of the farm for the halls of higher learning. By 21 he is at Oxford, finishing up a degree in physics (or whatever you earn at college in Britain. As a side note, I discovered that pretty much every facet of English life is labyrinthine, from the schools to the legal system. I gave up early on trying to figure out the differences between public and state and comprehensive and every other type of school). At 28 he and his wife have left the UK for Madison, Wisconsin, where he will be for the rest of the films, teaching and doing research into nuclear energy. Eventually he and his British-born wife divorce, leaving him with little contact with his son, and he remarries an American. What I love about Nicholas is his insatiable curiosity. At 7 he "wants to find out about the moon and all that"; by 28 he teaches "all that" at a university. Little wonder that he kept on expanding, eventually leaving his homeland for new opportunities. Yet for all this, he is very conflicted. He desperately misses Britain and his family -- even the countryside he so reviled at 14. When the filmmakers take him back to the Yorkshire dales at 35, something inside of him seems to come alive, something primal waiting to leap out. The country, far from inhibiting his curiosity, helped develop it.

Jackie, one of the poor girls in 7 Up, provides a fascinating character sketch while simultaneously being one of the least likeable subjects of the film. She is defensive and combatative every step of the way. (In a meta-moment in 49 Up, she and Michael discuss their feuds over the years. "I like it when you yell at me", Michael confesses) Questions about social class especially seem to enrage her; she does not like the suggestion that the upper classes have gotten on better than her. Yet for all her prickles, she really is intriguing. Married at 19, she and her husband decide early on that they will not have children ("I'm too selfish" she admits in 28). After she and her husband split up, she gains a baby boy from a brief relationship. By 42 she has two others from another man. To see the transformation in her, from completely self-absorbed to giving her life to serve her children, is a touching one. Moreover, to see the joy her children bring her is a marvel. In my mind this is one of the most touching transformations that takes place in the film.

Lastly we have Neil, who seems to be the favorite of many. At 7 he was cheerful and energetic, but by 14 you can see signs of him slowing down. Rejected by Oxford, he attended Aberdeen University for one semester before dropping out. At 21 he does "casual labor", squats in a London apartment, and rails against his upbring; "I feel like I've been kicking in mid-air this whole time", he says. From 28 through 42, he has no job and lives off of social security benefits. Moreover, he drifts from place to place: Scotland in 28, the Shetland Islands in 35, back to London in 42, and northern England in 49. Eccentric to an extreme, he has much trouble forming relationships and spends most of his time alone. In one of the most searing moments of the film, Michael asks Neil if he thinks he is going mad, and Neil implies that he is. Everything about Neil's trajectory is ominous. Will he end up dead in a ditch somewhere, or go on a killing spree of his own? Yet there are signs of hope: in 35 he has found a hobby in acting and directing local plays. Then, in 42, the resurrection: while still jobless, Neil has become a councilman in London. Politics seems to change him, give him a purpose. By 49 he is drawing a salary as a councilman in northern England. The man who drifted so long seemed to finally find a port.

Two other things I found touching about Neil. One was his faith. At 21 he was wracked with doubts; he says that he thinks about the existence of God a lot but hasn't come to any conclusions. By 35, he hints that faith has helped him, and it gradually plays a more significant part in his story. What touches me about this is the simple nature of it; no grandiose flourishes or soapboxing from Neil. He clings to Christ because he is a man who has nothing else. The other wonderful thing is his brief but significant friendship with another of the subjects, our friend Bruce the missionary. When he returned to London before 42 Up Bruce (still unmarried at the time) offered to put him up for awhile. The two became friends, and to see the tender affection between them is a testament to true friendship, which crosses boundaries.

The question will probably go unanswered: does the child at 7 reflect the full grown adult? What then, in the end, is the value of the Up films? Simply put, they tell simple stories of simple people who just live their lives, only to get interrupted every 7 years. Is anything more necessary? The importance stems from the humanity of them, the tender way in which each of the stories unfolds. Without that, the films would be just another novelty. Instead, they are a refreshing look at the lives of individuals.