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Krapp's Last Tape

Earlier this evening I had my first experience of live theatre since March via the one-way system, temperature checks and socially distanced seating at Leeds Playhouse…. It felt appropriate that the first play I saw since lockdown was by Samuel Beckett, the master of tragi-comic nihilism. Krapp's Last Tape takes place on a “late evening in the future” when Krapp reminisces about his earlier life, in particular an audio record he made 30 years ago on the spool of an old tape recorder and in the pages of a tatty ledger…. There but for the grace of God go I…. Niall Buggy played the banana-eating Krapp with a mixture of wistful vulnerability, frustrated rage and a poignant desire to interpret and make sense of his shifting, distorted memories. Was the past exactly what he remembered? Was his 39 year old self a truer version of Krapp than his 69 year old present self? Time to make one last tape.... Terrific performance of a thought-provoking monologue.

Orpheus in the Record Shop

In the second piece, rapper Testament  (a William Blake fan, so he's OK by me!) fused beatboxing, myth and poetry to present a tale of love lost, dreams dreamt and future journeys imagined with help from pianist and composer Taz Modi and nine live musicians from the orchestra of Opera North. The 75-minute tour-de-force showcased Testament's human beatboxing talents with a huge variety of sounds blended into the overwhelming soundscape of the classical instruments gradually introduced by Opera North, including a soaring female singer  The stage space of the Quarry Theatre was used spectacularly with atmospheric lighting but my long-term memories of this piece will probably be less technical than personal. During Testament's monologue he conjured a cast of characters that came in and out of his record shop - there were many identifiable laughs on the joys and pretensions of vinyl, record collectors, music tastes and the precarious existence of trying to run a retail business with love but little economic sense! Of all the characters weaving in and out of the narrative the dominant presence (though painfully absent) was Orpheus's own Eurydice, in this case named Justine. Though the story, whilst funny, was often tear-jerking, there was a depth charge of hope at the end. Music is everywhere. Love is everywhere. And it was a great thrill for me, at Leeds Playhouse, that twice one evening in October 2020, I sat again in a live audience, the anticipation was immense and the house lights dimmed to darkness before launching Krapp's Last Tape and Orpheus in the Record Shop. (Back next week for La Voix Humaine.)