Quite by
chance, as I perused the new release shelf at the library, I picked up the 2015
movie based on Alan Bennett’s autobiographical narrative and play, “The Lady in
the Van.”
In the
movie, Maggie Smith revisits her original West End role of Miss Shepherd, a
sixty-year-old woman who parks her van in Bennett’s driveway at 23, Gloucester
Crescent in north London, and stays for fifteen years, from 1974-1989. Her
character is self-centered, exasperating and problematic. Somewhat pitiable,
her eventual death is sad and uplifting at the same time.
Miss
Shepherd is an enigma, a woman of no known address, for whom no one, except
Bennett, especially cares. She is a registered voter, receives government
benefits, and has a bank account. Miss Shepherd writes political pamphlets and
sits on the sidewalk and sells pencils. During her fifteen-year residency, she
paints her succession of vans a brilliant “scrambled egg” yellow.
Bennett
is perplexed by his situation. Should he evict her, or enlist the assistance of
social services to find her suitable housing? Over the years, he takes careful
notes of conversations with his driveway tenant. She tells him she was an
ambulance driver during World War II, a novitiate in a convent, and a concert
pianist—all which Bennett verifies, as well as her mental breakdown. After her
death, he learns that she held herself responsible for hitting a motorcyclist
with her van, though in fact was only guilty of leaving the scene of the
accident.
Though
Miss Shepherd is the star of the show, we’re aware of Bennett’s successful career
as a playwright. Is it an act of kindness that he lets her squat in his
driveway, a sense of helplessness, or would his life be empty without her
constant, odiferous presence?
In
Bennett’s play about his years with Miss Shepherd, he splits his role between
two actors:
“The
device of having two actors playing me isn’t just a bit of theatrical showing
off and does, however crudely, correspond to the reality. There was one bit of
me (often irritated and resentful) that had to deal with this unwelcome guest
camped literally on my doorstep, but there was another bit of me that was
amused by how cross this eccentric lodger made me and that took pleasure in
Miss Shepherd’s absurdities and outrageous demands.” (Bennett, The Lady
in the Van, xxii).
In
addition to the play, which the movie closely follows, Bennett published his
diary excerpts about Miss Shepherd:
“In
giving her sanctuary in my garden and landing myself with a tenancy that went
on eventually for fifteen years I was never under any illusion that the impulse
was purely charitable. And of course it made me furious that I had been driven
to such a pass. But I wanted a quiet life as much as, and possibly more than,
she did. In the garden she was at least out of harm’s way.” (The Clothes They Stood Up In and The Lady in
the Van, p.148).
At the
end of her life, using a wheelchair and walking sticks, Miss Shepherd agrees to
visit a day center where she takes a bath and has her clothes laundered. Bedded
down in the van between clean sheets, she dies in her sleep that night.
“It is a
beautiful day, with the garden glittering in the sunshine, strong shadows by
the nettles, and bluebells out under the wall, and I remember how in her
occasional moments of contemplation she would sit in the wheelchair and gaze at
the garden. I am filled with remorse for my harsh conduct towards her, though I
know at the same time that it was not harsh.” (The Clothes They Stood Up In and The Lady in the Van, p.197).
Readers,
have you cared for an elderly or eccentric person? Or have you contemplated
life in a van? I’ve easily lived half my life during the past twenty years in
my ’97 van, transporting my children and their belongings.
Bennett,
Alan. The Lady in the Van, London:
Faber and Faber, 2000.
Bennett,
Alan. The Clothes They Stood Up In and
The Lady in the Van, New York: Random House, 2002.
“The Lady in the Van,” 2015. Directed by
Nicholas Hytner, screenplay by Alan Bennett.
No, I've never wanted to live in a van, but I have cared for several elderly people, but not as their sole caretaker. When my mother-in-law was dying of cancer, after I left school where I was teaching, I went home, changed clothes after doing my barn chores and drove to her house about 15 miles away and took care of her and slept on the couch by her, and then in the morning after her day care provider came, I went home, did my morning barn chores and changed my clothes and headed to school to teach my class. Then I helped take care of my ex-husband a little when he returned next door to stay with my son after his third wife died and he had cancer and diabetes. I wasn't his main caretaker, but I helped out when he needed it. I held
ReplyDeletehis hand most of the morning the day he died.
My wife and I had a delightful elderly next door neighbor. She ran the Meals on Wheels program and delivered meals on days so icy that her drivers did not feel safe on the streets. She visited "little old ladies: in the hospital for her church.Most of the ladies were younger than she was. Unfortunately her vision failed and she started to fall frequently. We finally persuaded her to go to an assisted living program shortly before she tell in her shower, hit her head and died.
ReplyDeleteI'm the part-time caretaker for two elders right now. They are so different from one another.
ReplyDeleteOne is very compliant, the other is stubborn and feisty. They are both teaching me a lot about myself!
ReplyDeleteAt one point I visited one of my daughters, who was living in Eugene, OR in a converted school bus. She moved out to a tent for the duration of my stay so I could have the comfort of the bed in the school bus.
I come from a big family, and have participated in the care of several older relatives. But I have never been the primary caretaker, and, very conscious of what I have heard social workers disparagingly call "the daughter from California" syndrome (we are on the east coast) I have tried to be careful and support, not undermine, the decisions and care being provided.
Gloria, you've provided care and kindness to so many people in your life.
ReplyDeleteWarren, your neighbor was a gem. Perhaps she'll turn up in a book or story?
Carla, hang in there. I wonder what I'll turn into, cranky or compliant?
Kathleen, your life has been an adventure.