How do you make a film about loneliness that isn’t bleak and despairing? It’s hugely important subject, and it’s reaching such epidemic proportions in Britain that I knew I had to make a film. And somehow make a film people would watch – and not run away from.
The problem I think is that we’re all a bit scared of loneliness – of being alone. Of being left. Of not being loved. Or needed. Or cared about. “Lonely” hits a spot of fear in all of us even if we don’t acknowledge it. So a year ago, I set out to find people who were brave enough to admit and talk about how lonely they were. But I wanted to find people whose stories offered hope – either because they’d found a way of dealing with loneliness or because they had something in their lives that, even in a small way, alleviated their loneliness.
What was also vital was that the focus moved beyond old people. The loneliness epidemic is affecting people of all ages. It can be as big a problem for young and middle-aged people as for their grandparents.
I wish after making The Age of Loneliness I could identify 10 key reasons people today are lonely. And 10 key things that could be done to help. But it’s complex. And lonely people can be hard to do something for because they often don’t want to admit they are lonely and need help.
Why are we so lonely? Society has changed – our communities, villages, towns and cities are different. We move away from our support networks – for work, for training, for college, for university. If we have children we are usually no longer surrounded by our relatives. The company of babies and young children may be magical, but it can also make us feel lonely. Then vast numbers of us get divorced so we don’t have the companionship of a partner to go through life with. Losing your job or constantly having to move for work makes your rootless.
Mental health can be a factor in loneliness too. In the film, Christine, Martin and Iain talk eloquently about the isolation of living with mental health problems and their different solutions.
And of course as we all start living longer, that means even if we do have a partner one of us will die and the other will spend much of their so-called twilight years alone – at an age when they are least able to fend for themselves.
That all sounds a bit bleak. But there are definite glimmers of hope. What I discovered over the last year is an enormous and wonderful network of charities and volunteers – people who talk on the phone to lonely people, who organise parties for them, who befriend or visit, who run groups and outings. When you see what a difference such a small thing as a cup of tea or a chat can make to someone’s life it really does make you want to sign up immediately.
I learned from the remarkable 93-year-old Bob that he expects to feel lonely for the rest of his life because his beloved Kath is no longer by his side, though he takes great comfort from her ashes seated in the chair next to him. But equally importantly, he has started volunteering – it gives him a purpose, a reason to get out of bed. He doesn’t deny how lonely he is but he’s trying his best to keep going.
Olive, at 100, sits there day in day out, craving someone to chat to. The high point of her life is the monthly tea party that brings together lonely over 75s. But it also gives a purpose to lonely younger people like Kylie, who says as a volunteer she gets as much out of the occasion as people like Olive.
Some men can find it hard to talk about their emotions, so it was all the more remarkable that 72-year-old Richard was willing to go on camera and talk about how lonely he was following the death of his wife. Loneliness, he said, scared him more than death and the prospect of another 20-plus years on his own horrified him. He’s taken to internet dating with a vengeance, though admits his chances of success are probably slim. In spite of material wealth and a large family, Richard says it just doesn’t fill the void in his life. And that is what I heard again and again. People of all ages missed someone to do nothing with. To chat idly. To sit next to. Part of me feels we have to train ourselves to enjoy solitude more. And perhaps also work harder at being kind to others and creating new support networks to replace the traditional ones, now lost.
