Regrets and rewinds as Rea gives a masterclass
Krapp’s Last Tape (Project Arts Centre, Dublin, until Feb 2 Verdict: Life lessons from a master ★★★★☆
STEPHEN Rea had a feeling he’d at some time be called upon to take on Beckett’s masterpiece Krapp’s Last Tape. And so 12 years ago he recorded the words of the more youthful Krapp, aged 39, so that he’d sound authentic, should the moment arise.
As part of the Landmark Productions 20th anniversary celebrations, the call came from Anne Clarke for a production directed by Vicky Featherstone which sees Rea on the stage of the Project Arts in an intimate and touching performance.
It’s not unthinkable or unusual that Rea might have made the assumption, given that Beckett wrote his original play for the Belfast-born actor Patrick Bradley in 1958. Since then the one man play has been taken on by many of the greats including Michael Gambon and John Hurt.
Rea’s version is a somewhat softer, less angry one than Bradley portrayed, seemingly more resigned to his lot, though his frustration with his younger self is palpable.
PHYSICAL comedy is the starting point as Rea’s Krapp shuffles and shambles around the stage, opening a large drawer that gets larger to find bananas to eat.
He avoids slipping on the physical skins but it’s too late for the metaphorical ones which saw his downfall a long time ago. It is their memory that pushes him towards the diary and the spool that accompanies it.
As the 39-year-old Krapp reveals his birthday celebrations via the tape recorder, he recalls the death of his mother, how he watches the window of her bedroom from the riverbank as she passes away, he his playing with a dog and holding a black ball in a moment he says he will always remember. But the elderly Krapp has already forgotten, his expression as he listens revealing the turmoil the erosion of this memory brings.
Frustration boils over as Krapp records his feelings now as a 69-yearold, casting a cold and disappointed eye over his youthful vision, his idealism and foolishness, before hurling his tape away to listen again to that moment where, at 39, he says farewell to love in search of a higher purpose Krapp now knows is not coming.
Rea’s younger Krapp on tape burns with a fire, while his character on stage can only cradle the recorder and wish for the end.
Rea’s powerful and moving performance brings light and shade, rage and remembrance, holding the audience spellbound as Beckett’s writing lays out how, sometimes cruelly, the horror of grief fades with time but regret at the road not taken, rightly or wrongly, makes an indelible mark on the mind.
Audiences should be thankful Rea didn’t miss his chance to take on this masterpiece and bring joy to those who witness 55 minutes of perfect theatre.
At least the older Krapp gives the joy of singing a chance, however pitiful his rendition of Now The Day is Over sounds. But Stephen Rea’s performance sings beautifully until the last millimetre of tape is wound.
And it’s poignant too that, given this play is about the passage of time, in the not too distant future there won’t be a member of the audience who knows what a tape or a spool is.