My fascination with collecting versions of Krapp’s Last Tape began in my late teens. This succinct yet profound one-act play by Samuel Beckett revolves around an aging man who listens to his younger self on recordings made each birthday. Although there is only one actor, the play essentially forms a dialogue between the character at age 69 and his 39-year-old self, who reflects on his actions in his late 20s.
Essentially, the narrative introduces us to three different stages of Krapp’s life. I have already lived through two of these ages, with my next milestone being 69! The enduring appeal of Beckett’s play lies in its exploration of regret and the different paths our lives might have taken had we made different decisions. Two recent stagings—one featuring Gary Oldman at the York Theatre Royal and another with Stephen Rea at London’s Barbican—challenge viewers to ponder these what-if scenarios, while offering the actors a unique chance to revisit their earlier selves.
Towards the play’s conclusion, Krapp muses, “Perhaps my best years are gone.” Yet Stephen Rea, at 78, proves otherwise with a deeply poignant portrayal, enhanced by an archive recording of his younger self from 2009. Having collaborated with Beckett on Endgame back in 1976 (and its film adaptation in 1991), Rea brings a nuanced understanding of Beckett’s ambiguous themes to his performance.
Gary Oldman, though only 67 and technically too young for the part, portrays an even more fatigued Krapp as he navigates the stage in York, where his acting career began in 1979. This production marks his return to the stage after 37 years, and Oldman draws upon a “mental museum of theatrical references” to enrich his performance, also directing and designing the show which features the same recording device used by previous Krapps like Michael Gambon and John Hurt.
When discussing Krapp’s Last Tape with John Hurt, he expressed a wish that I had seen his later, less angry portrayal in 2013. Hurt critically reflected on his earlier recordings but acknowledged that his growing dissatisfaction with them actually enhanced his later performances.
Beckett’s play delves into the frustrations and professional disappointments that haunt its main character, resonating with any actor’s quest for the perfect role. This was exemplified during a 2015 performance at the Barbican directed by Robert Wilson, which, despite its grand visuals, left me cold—only to be shocked by an audience member’s vocal disapproval at the curtain call.
Under Vicky Featherstone’s direction, Rea’s portrayal of Krapp is set against a stark, cell-like stage, emphasizing themes of confession and self-examination. The set features humorously oversized drawers, which hide Krapp’s cherished bananas—a source of both comfort and frustration for him. Oldman’s performance, surrounded by the clutter of his past, is punctuated by the sound of him eating bananas, highlighting Beckett’s focus on the significance of sound.
Both actors masterfully capture the comedic elements of Krapp, with Rea’s agile handling of the reel tapes and Oldman’s deliberate enunciation of “spooool.” The humor is further amplified when Rea describes a “vidua bird,” a reference made funnier by his own dark curls. Each actor encapsulates the smugness of the 39-year-old Krapp while underscoring the minimal change in the older Krapp over the years.
The intricate relationship among the three versions of Krapp is central to the play, highlighted by the choice of the song “We Three (My Echo, My Shadow and Me)” in Oldman’s production. This song, about loneliness and living in memories, sets the tone for a set cluttered with a lifetime’s worth of personal relics, suggesting both isolation and introspection.
Though the play would benefit from a more intimate stage, the Jermyn Street theatre in London’s West End provided an ideal setting when Trevor Nunn directed it there in 2020, showcasing Beckett’s isolated characters effectively. Even incidental references to other characters in Krapp’s Last Tape underscore its poignant themes, like Old Miss McGlome reminiscing about her youth.
The first time I experienced Krapp’s Last Tape was shortly after studying it at university. That performance was interrupted by a technical issue, leaving a lasting impression on me. I watched it with a friend who has since passed away, leaving me with tapes of music compilations that, though unplayable now, I treasure as keepsakes.
Returning to the play in my 20s reignited an old romance tinged with regret, highlighted by a poignant breakup scene in the 39-year-old Krapp’s recording. In his portrayal, Rea captures the frantic search for this particular memory, echoing Hurt’s view of Krapp as an addict seeking emotional hits from his past.
Krapp’s Last Tape is more than a play about memory; it’s about how we curate the defining moments of our lives, much like creating a mix tape or sorting digital photos. The younger Krapp, aspiring to be a writer, describes it as “separating the grain from the husks,” a testament to Beckett’s meticulous craft. Yet, the play also confronts the self-deception involved in avoiding life’s harsher realities, like the death of Krapp’s mother.
Fatima Clarke is a seasoned health reporter who bridges medical science with human stories. She writes with compassion, precision, and a drive to inform.
