Theatre: Happiest moment of the past half million

Edward O'Hare on Beckett's Krapp's Last Tape at the Gate

Krapp's Last Tape at The Gate, Dublin, as part of the Beckett Centenery Festival which continues until the end of April. www.gate-theatre.ie, www.beckett centenaryfestival.ie

A man stands motionless, surrounded by shadow. Apart from a small desk and chair, the stage is bare. His staring eyes are alive with thought. The shaft of a peeled banana protrudes obscenely from his mouth. Needless to say, we can only be watching a Beckett play. In 2001, the Gate Theatre staged Krapp's Last Tape to great acclaim with John Hurt in the title role. Now the centenary celebrations present a second chance to witness Beckett's most poignant and profound work performed by one of the world's finest actors. Written in English in 1958, Krapp's Last Tape is the play which Beckett invested an unparalleled amount of emotion and savage humour, all of which is captured perfectly in this production.

Krapp is a 69 year old writer who lives in a spartan basement far from the eyes of the world. He seems to have lost any inclination to interact with the rest of humanity and instead spends most of his days deep in introspection or guiltily sneaking bananas from his desk drawer. To mark his birthday, he drags out an old-fashioned reel-to-reel tape player in order to listen to his own opinions from 30 years before. As the pompous younger Krapp muses on his artistic aspirations, his mother's death and his brief periods in love, the elder Krapp searches for a pattern in his recollections that might reveal some hidden meaning in the events of his life.

Krapp's Last Tape has often been cited as the most autobiographical of Beckett's plays. Krapp's quest for isolation, his wit and his tortuous relationship with his mother are all Beckett's own. So is his famous account of having a creative revelation, which in this play takes place on Dun Laoghaire pier, though Krapp desperately fast-forwards this section in disgust. However, Beckett's influence over this play is not absolute.

Unlike other Beckett works, where every line brings the writer's face before the mind's eye, the brilliance of this production lies in the fact that Hurt has created a character who represents both Beckett and all the rest of humankind. There can be no person alive who will not see someting of Krapp's behaviour in their own.

John Hurt has always possessed a unique talent to surprise audiences, and this production demonstrates the extent of that talent. Krapp treats his battered belongings like icons in some religious ritual. He turns in shock to see his own shadow playing on the wall. He is startled when he sees the debris he himself has thrown on the floor only minutes before. Hurt's huge, dark eyes communicate Krapp's inner life to the audience so clearly that he barely needs to speak when the tape is running for the audience to understand what he feels. He can smile and even laugh while looking absolutely haunted throughout.

Then there is Hurt's famously rich voice. The play becomes a sort of duet between the confident, already cynical voice of the younger Krapp and the rasping bark of the old one. Perhaps the real magic of the play is watching how Hurt makes the incredibly subtle transformation from the weary, haggard figure at the opening of the play to the booming, defiant figure at the end. Each time he plays a section of the tape, more old memories are awakened in his mind. Rather than be beaten down by these, he grows more powerful. He is a man determined to endure. As with all the other Beckett plays that the Gate has staged in recent weeks, Krapp's Last Tape is a masterpiece. If only one production could have been staged to mark Beckett's centenary, this alone would have been enough.