Seven decades. One extraordinary experiment. The groundbreaking Up documentary series from 7 Up to 70 Up is now streaming on ITVX.
A piece of writing that has stayed with me for years is Linda Ellis’ 1996 poem The Dash. It tells the tale of a given eulogy in which the speaker cited the importance of the dash, and thus the span of life, between one’s dates of birth and death. It’s a simple moral on valuing life at the mercy of time, but perhaps that’s why it continues to resonate. If any project captures the nebulous, mercurial beauty of that poem’s sentiment, it is the Up series, which recently drew to a close and has thus cemented its place as one of the greatest documentary films ever made.
Beginning in 1964 with the half-hour programme 7 Up, the project brought together 14 schoolchildren, who were interviewed and taken on a trip to the zoo. Some came from private schools and privileged backgrounds; others from more impoverished or working-class environments. It was initially conceived to highlight stark wealth and class differences among a group of 7-year-olds, and it successfully underscores them.
However, researcher-turned-director Michael Apted made the inspired decision to revisit these children every seven years, producing subsequent films (21 Up, 28 Up, and so forth). While class remained a common theme in each film, the series became more about possible life paths and different directions. Binding it all together is a quote commonly attributed to Aristotle: “Give me a child until he is 7, and I shall give you the man”. By capturing these interviewees’ lives in seven-year chunks, this documentary series becomes a curious, sombre interrogation of that quote.
I was introduced to the Up series during a rewarding but gruelling undertaking in which I watched every film in Roger Ebert’s Great Movies catalogue in the span of a year. Among his selections was the Up series, which he championed with ferocious passion, citing the series’ ability to depict the passing of time and its weight through cinema. Put on any one of these films, and you’ll find yourself mesmerised by how it uses comparison and contrast to explore sociological issues, character development, and the lasting joys or scars of life’s journey. A fundamental humanity in its editing and the interviewees’ reflections makes an otherwise simple premise riveting.
With Michael Apted’s passing in 2021, filmmaker Asif Kapadia helms this final film, 70 Up. He’s a fitting replacement given the rawness and humanism of his best documentaries (Senna; Amy). Now aged 70 and mostly retired, the interviewees have the opportunity to reflect on and discuss their relationships with life, class, and mortality one last time. There is a particular focus on the latter, seeing as it was a recording from one participant, Yorkshire farmboy turned nuclear physicist Nick, mere days before his own passing in 2023, which spurred this final film to be made.
It’s the audiovisual translation of the ordinary into the extraordinary that gives 70 Up a curious, poignant sense of authenticity. No grand setpieces, staged contrivances, or force-fed narratives. It’s just people being people, navigating life, together and individually, as it comes. Dziga Vertov captured the power of this notion when he made Man with a Movie Camera back in 1929. By giving each interviewee space to voice unfiltered opinions and observations about life, both in relation to and outside this documentary series, 70 Up and its predecessors immerse us in other people’s lives. This allows the participants’ personalities – be it Tony’s rough-talking charm, Jackie’s, at times, blunt earnestness or Bruce’s quiet gentleness, among others – to shine through, the snapshots of their lives capturing a gorgeous, fluid scope.
What’s particularly curious about this final instalment is how the change in interviewer allows the participants to be more open than ever. Apted did a wonderful job with the previous films, but even by his own admission, he came into the series with preconceived ideas about each child’s standing in life, whether because of their class, gender, or both. Jackie even directly called him out on this in a previous film. By changing filmmakers, the interviewees can reflect on their own relationships with Apted, and thus with the programme itself.
In the earliest films, John, a wealthy, privately educated barrister, was comfortably my least favourite participant. He had an abundance of privilege and a seemingly smug lack of self-awareness that made him infuriating. In 70 Up, John, who has since significantly mellowed out, discusses the hurt of his earlier depictions, arguing that he was made into a bogeyman for the first programme’s intended themes of class. It’s easy to see where he’s coming from – a ten-minute clip isn’t the same as a lived experience, and John’s remarkable work with charity over the years suggests a far more generous, thoughtful personality than one may initially believe. Another wealthy participant, Charles, also felt compartmentalised by the series, as he refused to participate in any films after 21 Up. Even in 70 Up, his interview is conducted entirely through audio, suggesting that those feelings still somewhat linger.
This heterotopic area of feelings versus presentation is one of several ways 70 Up examines Aristotle’s words. Are people always changing, or are they fully developed and on a seemingly destined path from a young age? Part One is a fun, but fairly typical recounting as each of the remaining 12 participants discusses how life has changed since 63 Up. Part Two is where 70 Up gets into the nitty-gritty, examining the initial class thesis, impending mortality, and the truthfulness of the quote by splicing their interviews together, with different answers to the same question. An articulately edited film with a sombre but joyful score guides us through the intertwining life stories; 70 Up is the result of this examination, and the way the quote applies to each participant reveals the depth and fascination of the question.
One considers the upper-class participants like John, Andrew, or Suzy, who were born into wealth and more or less stayed on course throughout. Yet their personalities were never truly fixed. For example, Suzy went from someone cynical to more open-minded and optimistic in her later years. She even gets a great, amusing quip about gin that sells the weight of her participation in the film. People like Bruce started at 7, saying his heart desired to see his dad again, who was away at war at the time. By 70, that same sincerity and compassion is still there, which may give credence to the quote for many, where Suzy’s, or arguably even John’s, gradual development may create pause for thought.
Class certainly affects one’s prospects, but the uncertainty of the quote’s accuracy applies to all walks of life. Tony is as down-to-earth and cheeky as ever, but he also shows a previously unseen vulnerability as he laments that his jockey career, which he wanted at 7, didn’t pan out. Neil’s journey is famously the most harrowing of all, starting as a vibrant, happy-go-lucky child but navigating life with various phases of despair, including a spell of homelessness. That he seems content and happy by 70 Up is perhaps an ode to optimism, and how life may still work out in its own way.
By splicing its various interviews together and depicting issues of class, mental health, reflection, and now a sense of impending finality, 70 Up becomes an articulate, sage, and emotionally gripping piece. Now that some of the participants, including the project’s original pioneer, have sadly passed away, its musings on the joys, significance, and possible unpredictability of life feel more potent and earnest than ever. More than any other title in the audiovisual medium, it showcases the power of Linda Ellis’ proverbial dash in life through its curious direction and intelligent craftsmanship. Whether you’re here to catch up on your favourite players, or consider the weight of time’s passage, 70 Up leaves you intrigued, immersed and invigorated.
After watching any of these films, you can’t help but reflect on your own life. I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was 7, and that fire in my soul remains as ablaze now as it ever did, though I’ve shifted between various mediums and life commitments have kept me from advancing as far as I would have liked. I am more introverted than I once was – possibly a consequence of navigating an adult world that I wasn’t fully prepared for.
Yet, having recently turned 30, I feel a newfound sense of purpose and possibility where I felt despair just a few years ago. Loss, anxiety and regrets still occur, but the prospects of life’s offerings, be it new friendships, adventure, creative freedom, career advancements, and a family of my own, now feel more attainable than they ever have. Whether we are fully formed at 7, or are always changing, is a question this film wisely leaves open-ended, but just as we’ve come so far, so too do we have so much ahead of us.
The beauty of the Up series is how it recognises this, thus serving both the past and the future through the unique visual power of film. Just as we look back on our limited lives with pride, regret, joy, or resentment, we also look ahead with anxiety, optimism, and everything in between. 70 Up captures this in spades through its intelligent editing, humanist approach and open, honest discussions of people, life and time. It may be snippets and conversations, but it’s as captivating and emotionally engaging as the biggest epic. Years from now, when we look back and contemplate the greatest documentaries of all time, the Up series will be on the lips of serious scholars and audiences alike.
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