About book Krapp's Last Tape And Other Dramatic Pieces (1994)
Young people and what to do about them was one of the great issues for middle class America in the sixties. Containment was one of the answers. My hometown, Park Ridge, had had a number of youth centers, but all had closed when I dropped out of Grinnell for the 1971-72 school year.Two of us put our mind to the matter one night at my house and came up with the idea of starting a process which might result in the creation of a new alternative for our peers, a youth center we'd own and operate ourselves, on our terms.The trick was to get the momentum to accomplish this end. We had no money. Indeed, I had only debt, a poorly paying job and the possible prospect of incarceration for draft resistance. What we needed was a credible movement.So we called a meeting. Well, a person or persons unknown called a meeting. What we did was create three anonymous fliers, one with a leftist slant to be distributed in and around the high schools; another with a rightist slant to be displayed in the business and wealthier sectors of town; a third with a sober, intellectual approach. All announced a meeting about youth and youth problems to be held in a park district fieldhouse. During the course of one long night, we plastered thousands of these pieces the length and breadth of Park Ridge.The meeting, amazingly, was quite successful as were those to follow. What we'd wanted from the start proved to be the will of the masses. Now the trick was to get the money to purchase, or the political power to be given, a suitable property while, in the meantime, having fun.In the course of this lengthy meantime we hosted cultural events, mostly weekly rock concerts with one dollar admissions, all well attended, but we were open to almost anything.A recent high school graduate and thespian, Walter, came to us with a proposal. He wanted to produce, direct and perform a play. He just needed a venue, some money for a simple set and some publicity. The result was Krapp's Last Tape, a one-person play about an old man--played in this case by a very young one, albeit credibly given the poor lighting called for. It was no easy sell, Beckett not quite inspiring the hormonally charged masses like Led Zeppelin, but it came off with enough of an audience to cover almost all expenses. I liked it, but then I was long more comfortable with suicidal ideation than with the notion of publicly dancing.
[Night. Interior. The REVIEWER, an elderly man, is seated alone in front of his laptop; a large screen above the stage shows that he is currently looking at the Goodreads page for "Krapp's Last Tape". Sounds of thunder, lightning, torrential rain from outside. The REVIEWER shakes his head, reaches into a drawer, changes his mind, reaches in again, takes out a banana, eats it. He continues to look at the same page. He takes out another banana and eats that too.]REVIEWER: I've reviewed it eighteen times. [He clicks his way to one of his reviews, which is clearly very long. As scrolls up and down, we see fragments of text:A harsher Proust, in a major key and without the redemptive quality of art... reductio ad absurdum of the theatre of the absurd... distillation... semantics...He jumps up and paces around the room.]REVIEWER: Jesus Christ, what a fucking wanker. Did I really write that?[He shakes his head]REVIEWER: Wanker. Let's look at one of the autobiographical ones.[He clicks to a second review:I sat, looking at the stage, but more at my companion, who was leaning comfortably against me, sound asleep. I wondered if I should adjust her dress, which was showing a generous amount of cleavage; but in the end, I only smoothed her hair. She turned towards me and smiled, half pleased, half irritated. I couldn't tell if she was was still asleep.The REVIEWER suddenly screams twice, then smiles at the audience.]REVIEWER: Here's my first one.[He clicks to another review. The whole text consists of the single line:I DONT GET IT. BORING.He shrugs.]REVIEWER: Well, at least that's honest.[He clicks back to the second review and scrolls down:... I wondered if I should adjust her dress, which was showing a generous amount of cleavage; but in the end, I only smoothed her hair...He starts shaking his head again.]REVIEWER: I shouldn't have done that. She never liked me touching her hair.[He starts to open another review, then suddenly closes the laptop.]REVIEWER: Enough. I'm glad I don't have to do any more of those.CURTAIN
Do You like book Krapp's Last Tape And Other Dramatic Pieces (1994)?
This play is short, sweet, and ineffably sad. The main (and only character) is Krapp, described by Samuel Beckett as "a wearish old man" with "black narrow trousers too short for him." His only occupation seems to be replaying old audio tapes about his former life, and taking time out by running offstage, popping corks, and evidently imbibing large quantities of various potables. In Krapp's Last Tape, we hear a portion of the tape that is identified in his capacious ledgers as box three, spool f
—Jim
Ce volume comprend deux petites pièces, qui, comme souvent chez Beckett, me laissent une impression d'étrangeté et de léger malaise. "La dernière bande" est un monologue avec soi-même, ou plus exactement un dialogue entre un personnage et des bandes enregistrées par lui des années auparavant. "Cendres" est une sorte de jeu entre un homme et des fantômes du passé. Deux pièce, donc, sur la mémoire et le passage du temps. Mais le plus fascinant dans ces textes, ce sont les didascalies et indications scéniques, toujours très précises, qui donnent une impression de futilité et de décrépitude.
—Léonard Gaya
I really like the way this play has been written. We have an old man here, named Krapp (the "excremental connotation" ingeniously implied), who listens to tapes, that he had recorded in younger times, on his birthday. The tapes voice the thoughts and experiences of a younger Krapp and, also, his continual discontentment with himself. He narrates several fragmented episodes: his mother's death, a romantic incident, etc. Being a characteristic Beckett play, of course, this isn't something optimistic and cheerful, and the most depressing thing I found about this play was how Krapp actually degenerated into crap during the course of his life. The pun is, thus, used and I found it most dejecting. All the dreams and aspirations he had as a young man morphed into a failed love life, death and disease and bitterness. I read a short story by Chekhov recently, titled Dreams, that had the same despondent tone. Putting the gloom aside, again, I must appreciate the way Beckett compacted the entire life story of a person, his hopes and disappointments in just a single act. Very nice.
—Momina Masood
