Good Evening Darlink! Vhat do ve have here? Are you looking for the right choice? I vould be happy to help you vith the right choice. Just come into my boudva…Ve vill turn the lights down low and I vill make us a cocktail or a Bloody Mary!
Yep, I’ve held this job for going on three years now, and every night it’s the same old story. They go in– they never come out. They go in– they never come out. They go in– and sometimes, when they have a real sweet, innocent kinda look I’ll change it up, I’ll say "Why don’t you not go in the castle tonight? Why don’t you sit out here with me and I’ll tell you some stories ’bout the old country"– but what do they do? They go in. And they never come out.
In honor of tonight’s opening of Krapp’s Last Tape, here’s a review by Stephanie Geter Young from Revenant Culture. Whatever you do, don’t miss this show! This is a once in a life time opportunity!
When All My Dust Has Settled
Samuel Beckett’s “Krapp’s Last Tape” at The Warehouse Theatre
review by Stephanie Geter Young
If I tell you that the Warehouse Theatre’s latest production is good for you, you’ll have visions of brussels sprouts, or church, or the high school poetry unit. If I tell you it’s shattering, poignant, life-altering, you might be cringing for the latest Hallmark endeavor.
“Krapp’s Last Tape” is none of those things, so we’ll skip the adjectives; Beckett certainly did. He billed it as a “short stage monologue.” Short yes, but there’s more meat in this one-man portrait than in a whole season of your average theatre fare. Keep in mind, Beckett won the Nobel prize for “short stage” pieces such as this one.
Krapp (Crosby Hunt) has come to his den to record his final retrospective. Each year, it’s the same birthday routine. Wind up an old tape, listen as your younger self mocks youthful folly, falls in and out of illnesses and loves. Then muster up the courage to record this year’s latest cynicism, quixotic obsessions, failing mental powers, despair. As the title suggests, this will be Krapp’s last recording, and possibly, his best.
It’s the first time he’s really questioned the past. The first time he’s wondered if maturity really demands a condemnation of youth. The first time he’s allowed himself to think it might have been better for him to pursue those wild relationships, be again those people, those places. Maybe once was not enough. Maybe this year, there are no words to record. And for the first time in Krapp’s 69 years, he actually tries to sing.
Lest you expect an aria, I should note here that Krapp is a clown, complete with floppy costume and banana-peel antics. He is the distillation and intensification of all our hopes and follies, even our repeated mistakes. He’s at the end of his life, he’s very nearly blind, and he has a perverse craving for the yellow fruit. A wild-haired Crosby Hunt succeeds in exploiting both the humor and the pathos of Krapp’s universal situation. He’s funny, even as he is pitiable.
The set speaks almost as loudly as the play—perhaps I should say, with the play, since sets these days are supposed to be invisible containers. Kevin Frazier’s brilliant design eschews that thought, even as it tosses aside Beckett’s single ring of stark light, favoring instead an assortment of incandescent bulbs, each in its own state of decay. The filaments flicker and fade. They go out with a pop, only to burst on again with blinding illumination. They work with Hunt to shed light on Krapp’s mental state, his grasping after words and ideas, his synapses barely connecting, his glimmer of life, faint and fainter still.
I’ll tell you now, you won’t leave the theatre happy. You won’t leave full of high hope and laughs. But since director Paul Savas has done his job well, you, like Krapp, will leave the stage haunted: what exactly are “those things worth having when all the dust has–when all my dust has settled. I close my eyes and try and imagine them.” Depressing maybe, but at least you’ll be thinking about these things before your last birthday. If only Krapp had been so lucky.
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Samuel Beckett’s “Krapp’s Last Tape,” directed by Paul Savas; with Crosby Hunt
(Krapp). Set, light, and sound design by Kevin Frazier. Costume by Crosby Hunt and Paul Savas.
Presented by The Warehouse Theatre, 37 Augusta St., Greenville (864) 235-6948. Through September 28. Tickets $10. Recommended for a mature audience.
Don’t forget to check Revenant Culture out at http://www.therevenantculture.com/
It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun working on a show. The actors’ precision timing really make the execution of the show terrific. It’s nice to sit back and let the actors do the work of telling the story, but there are times when the lighting becomes another character in the show. We’re using a lot of mambo music, which provides me with the opportunity to lift the lighting above reality. The show kicks off with a mambo version of the Peter Gunn theme (younger readers will recognize the melody from The Blues Brothers) that begins with four horn blasts. With the first three blasts I light up each of the three houses, then bump up lights on Arlechino. When Arlechino turns and sees the houses, the entire stage lights up with a bright nighttime wash. I also have a follow spot that comes and goes with each of Leandro’s entrances, a one-minute transition from day to night to day, and specials on all of the philanderers popping out of doors and windows.
I think, in order to boost morale, we should have silly face day. If you don’t wear a silly face all day, you have to spend ten minutes in the basement playing the Oujia board. All in favor?
After watching Eliza Jane Schneider’s Freedom of Speech, I am reminded of the power a single person can have. Normally actors are given roles, given lines, and given blocking and must create within these confines. With a one person show, however, there are no set givens. The creation is intensely personal and the individual investment is great. I admire the actors that have things to say, and take the time (15 years, imagine!) to mold and sculpt the work into a show that we can all then appreciate.
Well, I think I learned how Shakespeare actors from the 16th century felt when performing for Groundlings. JL Mann students kept us on our toes with their commentary, flash photography, and cheers and jeers. I actually kinda enjoyed it; it made us all have to focus that much harder. And I’d rather have a lively (that’s one way to put it) crowd than a silent one. And at least I remembered to put my hand upon my cheek. On lusty gentlemen!
Yes, I have posted my first blog! Yahoo! The J’s are busy little bees with the Wooden O and rehearsals for Reckless. So far, Reckless has been the most hiLARious rehearsals I’ve ever been a part of. Basically, Lloyd is the part Ryd was destined to play. "WHAT?! I can’t hear you!" In additional news, the Warehouse has a new Journeyman daycare, a quiet place where tired Journeymen may rest their weary heads and snore in private. On tonight’s agenda, a line-thru of R+J. Note to self: It puts the hand upon its cheek or else it gets the hose again!
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