Everyone gets old – so why do we get thrown on the scrap heap?

A new documentary explores life in one London almshouse, giving a rare voice to the nation’s elderly

“As you get older, people think you’re silly – sit him in the corner, take no notice of him.”  
At 76, Shamus Dark is witty, worldly and a talented musician with decades of experience. He also struggles to walk without his stick and acutely feels society’s bias against him.
“People look at me and make assumptions because of my age. It happens to the elderly, we reach a certain point and get thrown on the scrap heap,” he says. “A friend of mine was forced to retire at the age of 65 but he was still active and vital.  He had a lot more to give, but he’d been off.”  
Shamus is one of the distinctive characters in a new feature-length documentary called Waterloo Sunset by filmmaker Harvey Marcus.
Currently enjoying an independent cinema release up and down the country, the film gives a rare voice to the nation’s elderly, in a moving and illuminating chronicle of the ageing residents at Hopton’s Almshouse, a charity-run collection of flats and cottages designed around a central courtyard and built in 1752 in Southwark, London.
It is an oasis of calm, sitting just near the Thames and surrounded by the burgeoning glass and steel high rise metropolis that has mushroomed in recent years.
The occupants live independently within this sheltered housing setting and are supported by United St Saviour’s Charity who own and operate the site. 
“We provide 130 homes across three sites in Southwark,” says CEO Martyn Craddock. And last summer we took the big step of launching Appleby Blue Almshouse, our first architect-designed build with 57 homes for over 65s. It has modern, spacious apartments, a roof garden, and a purpose-built ‘community kitchen’.  It’s a fine example of shared living for older people.”
But while the brand new is alluring for some, Harvey Marcus harboured a long-lasting obsession with what went on behind the gated world of 18th-century Hopton’s. 
Back in the day, Marcus worked as a journalist, and during his 30s, he was the entertainment director of Marie Claire, the glossy monthly magazine. Their offices were based in the Blue Fin Building in Southwark Street, a 14-floor high rise now typical of the changing area.
“In my lunch hour I would walk the same circuit and pass the Almshouse,” he remembers. “The gates were always closed and people would be taking photos because it looked so incredible. They probably thought it was a museum rather than people’s actual homes.
Over the years I witnessed this dramatic regeneration of that area of Bankside, and like a real-life version of the Disney film Up, Hopton’s was suddenly dwarfed by towering luxury apartments and skyscraper office blocks. I remember wondering then what the residents felt about this world that was changing around them.”
However, it wasn’t until last year that Marcus decided to make a documentary about the residents. “Why then?” He says: “Well, my intrigue in Hopton’s never left me but having a mother in her late 80s, and sometimes struggling with growing older and change, was the real inspiration to give voice to a generation that is often ignored or made to feel invisible. Maybe living in this close community was the answer. Could they be experiencing something special?”
Waterloo Sunset was made on a micro-budget, and Marcus worked alone, filming over a three month period last summer. But his first task was winning the trust of the residents. “Some preferred not to take part,” says the filmmaker, but the vast majority, though tentative at first, embraced the project and welcomed the idea that someone wanted to hear what they had to say.”
Being an ex-journalist, Marcus knows how to tell someone’s story.  And his years interviewing celebrities (the list is impressive: Beyoncé, Ewan McGregor, Kate Winslet, Taylor Swift, Rhianna, Nicole Kidman, George Clooney…) set him up for all eventualities.  “It’s true. Mentioning no names, I’ve had a much smoother experience interviewing Oscar-winning A-listers than one or two of the residents!” he laughs.
‘While I came in with no agenda, I was determined to document a much more 360 view of what it means to be 80 or 90 in modern Britain, rather than replicate the often one-dimensional representation of old age we tend to see in the mainstream where the narrative seems to be underpinned with pity.”
Sex, death, illness, the afterlife, drugs; in Waterloo Sunset, no subject is taboo.
And in the main, says Marcus, the residents were more than willing to share their views and experience gleaned over decades. “There was one occasion when someone threatened to curtail the interview,” he recalls, “but, as with most of us, people find it much easier to open up and be honest to a stranger than someone closer to them. 
“And it’s incredibly empowering to realise your life story, and what you’ve learned over time, actually matters and is worthy of being documented.”
Filmed with a cinematic beauty that belies its low-budget, stories are in abundance in Waterloo Sunset. With the passing of years, there comes a rich evolution of experience, knowledge, insight and depth in the elderly.  But, often, the terrible thing is that others don’t always believe this to be the case, or even bother to take the time to find out.
Shamus Dark has lived at Hopton’s for 16 years. A central figure in the documentary, he says, “I’m a musician with years of practice and I’ve done hundreds of gigs. I’ve just put a new single together and I want to play live again but I’ve got to convince a venue manager to believe in me – a disabled bloke in his seventies. It’s unlikely to happen, but I’ll never stop making music. It makes me happy and gives me something to focus on every day.”
Another resident, John Youles, 80, says, “As you get older, people think you’re silly – sit him in the corner, take no notice of him.” Terry Morris, 75, adds, “Even people who are liberal, and say they’re not ageist, will see an old person and feel sorry for them. That’s a patronising attitude. We don’t want to be treated differently, just equally.”  Terry defines himself as “a very modern older person”.
 An ex-biology teacher, neuroscientist and psychologist, he travels regularly to Thailand, has been openly gay since his 20s (which was far from easy in the 1970s) and makes a conscious decision to embrace the quagmire of tech. 
Moving “forward” can be a difficult concept for the old, whether that’s simply putting one foot in front of the other or staying abreast of the helter-skelter world of technology.  Many of the elderly feel they are discriminated against when it comes to machine-living, saying they often end up frustrated and anxious when carrying out tasks online that once felt second nature to them.
Anne Menpes is 84 and feels strongly that tech isn’t always sympathetic to the elderly. “If you’ve got arthritic fingers like me or poor eyesight, you’re excluded immediately. Your fingers jerk and you press the wrong thing, or the forms are impossible to navigate. It would be wonderful to have a government initiative that offers free tech training, plus back up support if you get stuck.
“And why can’t the software developers ask those at grass roots what doesn’t work and what might make things easier.  We’re expected to do everything online, from doctors’ appointments to banking and paying bills, but our support needs aren’t recognised. It’s as though we don’t matter.”
Yet it’s a demographic that is steadily growing. According to Age UK, the population of England and Wales is continuing to age, with Census 2021 results confirming there are more people than ever before in older age groups.
Over 11 million people – 18.6 per cent of the total population – were aged 65 years or older, compared with 16.4 per cent at the time of the previous census in 2011. This included over half a million (527,900) people who were at least 90 years of age. 
Growing old isn’t for the faint-hearted. The folk at Hopton’s have endured their fair share of heartbreak and physical setbacks, but while their health may be fading, their vitality sparks brightly. If there is one common denominator amongst the Hoptonites, it’s their pluck.
Shamus reminds himself daily that he doesn’t want to be a grumpy old man and regularly rides around Waterloo on his tricycle, stopping off for a coffee to people watch. Jenny, 91, is an artist and paints the flowers in the communal garden to add to her lifelong portfolio. 
Pamela, 93, has sung with the London Philharmonic Orchestra and says music is her everything. Suzie, 81 is Vietnamese and arrived in the UK on a boat with 1,000 other refugees. She is more stylishly dressed than an influencer at a Paris fashion show, and often gets stopped in the street by tourists for a photo.
There’s no denying the changes that have happened in Southwark (and many parts of the UK) over the years have stripped the community of its social contact and reshuffled the landscape. Shamus has lived in the area since 1985 and laments the complete obliteration of small businesses, the local post office and corner shops.
“It has decimated the neighbourhood. We’ve now got corporate high rises and multinational chains, it’s awful. I shop in the Co-op because the staff are lovely and we have a chat, but most of the time you’re dealing with an automated machine. It’s a soulless interaction.”
The consensus is that their own communal living set up suits them down to the ground. They look after each other, they chin wag in the garden, they share celebrations when it’s time to rejoice, they encourage each other to keep going, and they argue from time to time (of course, having your own front door can be a godsend). Like any community, there are highs and lows, and in a place where “next year” isn’t a given, it’s inevitable that losses occur.
There’s a heartbreaking moment in the documentary where one of the residents talks about losing his wife, and the sense of loneliness that endures. “I’ve watched that scene a thousand times and it still brings tears to my eyes,” says Marcus. “But it’s also a reminder that what keeps people going is other people. We feed off their ideas, energy and support.” 
Because the future is a tenuous topic for these folk, the emphasis falls to the here and now.  Each day, month, year is a windfall, and as Terry says, “You only get old if you’re lucky.”
Having spent the best part of the year filming and creating Waterloo Sunset, Marcus is both surprised and encouraged by the attention the documentary is receiving from the industry and critics. “The film may well be set in London, but the issues it touches upon, and the hope and inspiration the residents offer, speaks to people everywhere, young and old,” he says, whose own perspective on ageing was understandably affected by the experience.
“British society is growing older, so society needs to change its attitude towards the elderly. We have this enormous resource of people whose life events, knowledge and opinions are being either ignored or sidelined in the name of progress.”
And on a personal level, Marcus had his own take-away from the documentary. “By the end I wanted to discover what keeps someone going, how do they retain a lust for life?” he says. “Being part of a community and feeling valued was key, but also having a passion. Whether it’s Shamus’s music, Jenny’s art and yoga, or Suzie’s fashion, the common denominator to a long, happy life is having something to live for.”
Ask the residents to add their thoughts on the secret to a positive existence and their revelations emanate as one voice: love deeply, look after each other, stay in contact with your friends, laugh.
And while they are acutely aware they are in their twilight years, each and every one of them embraces what’s next with an impressive optimism. As Jenny Adams announces, “I live today as it presents itself. You know, it’s much more fun!”