I went with my daughter Tamsin to the Royal Festival Hall last night to celebrate the National Youth Theatre’s 70th anniversary. I was a member for five years, and later so was she. She then continued for a further fifteen years as an associate artist and director.
Quite simply, it changed our lives, as it has done for so many other young people.
Its way of working is rooted in the power of the ensemble, bringing together young people from different social backgrounds across the country. You learn to listen, contribute and take responsibility. It isn’t just about what you can do; it’s about what you can create together. Everyone has something to bring, and everyone matters.
The show, Letters to My Younger Future Self, featured a company of seventy young performers. They shared their hopes and fears through letters spoken aloud, while the company around them brought their words to life. Some striking and beautiful group images emerged. Individual thoughts became stories that belonged to everyone.
Then came a clever shift. Former members and other guests joined them with letters looking back at their younger selves. What advice would you give the fourteen-year-old you? And would your younger self even notice?
Daniel Craig reflected on the value of stopping and standing still. I took a useful reminder from it: slow down and give yourself a chance. We’re not in a race. Playwright James Graham also spoke about looking beneath the surface rather than taking everything at face value. Good advice at any age.
When we’re young, we’re not always ready to listen. Sometimes we think we know it all. It’s worth remembering that most of us were there once.
Former Blue Peter presenter Janet Ellis took a wonderfully mischievous approach. After offering advice, she ripped up her letter. Her message was to go out and make outrageous mistakes, even be stupid sometimes—but listen and learn. Be yourself, discover your values and take risks.
It was well received. There was something refreshing about being given permission not to get everything right. Making mistakes isn’t the problem; refusing to learn from them is what gets us stuck.
If you have a teenage child who is mad about theatre, I would certainly recommend auditioning. There is something special about finding yourself among other young people who share your enthusiasm and want to work hard to make exciting theatre. Suddenly, caring deeply about it doesn’t make you unusual. You’ve found your people.
Tamsin and I learnt so much that we still carry with us – much of it is in the ethos of Theatretrain. Perhaps most importantly, our self-belief was given somewhere to grow. I can do this. I want to make this work. That confidence develops through trying, contributing and discovering that you have more to offer than you realised. It can carry you far beyond the stage.
Artistic director Paul Roseby spoke of the stage as a microcosm of the world we live in, holding its hopes for the future and the ambition to make them happen. In an uncertain world, it was heartening to see those hopes taking such lively, determined shape.
Happy birthday, NYT. Seventy years old, and still looking forward.
