ADD THIS TO YOUR BECKETT LIST
Beckett Briefs: From the Cradle to the Grave, comprised of three short works by the playwright—Not I, Play, and Krapp’s Last Tape—soundly directed without intermission by Ciarán O`Reilly at Irish Rep, makes for a nice little microdose of art for someone whose weeks, from a cultural standpoint, consist of cooky politics, terrible movies and mediocre TV.
F. Murray Abraham
Maybe not every theatrical experience need be earthshattering or cause some epiphany. An idea comes, it’s written down, staged, performed, and in this way, this thought, this image, this dream, is shared with others and becomes part of the fabric of their worlds. It’s not the answer. It’s not some great revelation. But it is something, something truthful, unique, perhaps even beautiful.
Sarah StreetNot I, performed by the capable Sarah Street, is a spotlighted mouth with bright red lipstick and shiny white teeth in a pitch-black theater speed-reciting a monologue (in this case) with an Irish accent. There’s something about a premature—perhaps abandoned—baby, a lack of love, and some allusion to something bad that happened. I confess, between the accent and the rapidity of the recitation I only understood about 15% of what was being said.
Sarah Street, Roger Dominic Casey and Kate Forbes
In Play, three grayish-green human-sized urns stand on a dimly lit stage, with a human head sticking up out of each one (I do not know if we’re meant to imagine that the people whose heads are sticking up out of the urns are themselves inside the urns, or if the heads are meant to be disembodied). The heads are of two women (Kate Forbes and Ms. Street), with a man (Roger Dominic Casey) in the middle. A spotlight (lighting by Michael Gottlieb) darts from one head to another, cuing the lit one to speak; occasionally a light illuminates all three at once creating a cacophony as all three talk simultaneously. Though not as fast as the mouth’s monologue, the heads fire off their texts at such speed that here too I was only able to understand about half of what they were saying (this in spite of the fact that they repeat it all a second time). The gist of their tale is that the man was married to the first woman while having an affair with the second. A private detective was hired. The wife confronted the mistress. Maybe the husband and mistress ran off together? I can’t say for sure. Nor do I understand how their story ended.
F. Murray AbrahamKrapp’s Last Tape, starring the always excellent F. Murray Abraham, takes place in the titular character’s cluttered and dilapidated home office. A 69-year-old banana-eating alcoholic, Krapp has been keeping an audiotape journal throughout his life, and now he sits down to listen to a tape he made thirty years earlier about a young woman whose eyes he can’t seem to forget. The most accessible of the three works, Tape predictably explores vanity and regret from the perspective of a deteriorating old man near the end of his life. Though not revelatory, the short offers a mood, a moment for contemplation and retrospection; a bit of regret off a tasting menu—not exactly filling but the essence is there. And Mr. Abraham makes Krapp touching, sympathetic and a pleasure to watch.
photos by Carol Rosegg
Beckett Briefs (through March 16, 2025)
Irish Repertory Theatre
Francis J. Greenburger Mainstage, 132 West 22nd St
75 minutes, no intermission
for tickets ($60-$125), call 212.727.2737 or visit Irish Rep
