F. Murray Abraham (Photo: Carol Rosegg)

Beckett Briefs: From the Cradle to the Grave

By Carol Rocamora

An arresting assemblage of rarely performed one-acts, now playing at the Irish Repertory Theatre, provides audiences with a thrilling theatrical experience. In seventy-five shocking minutes, three short plays by Samuel Beckett manage to take us on an entire life journey "from the cradle to the grave" (as the evening's title suggests) - with fewer words and greater power than any playwright has ever done.

Those of you who know and love Waiting for Godot and Endgame, Beckett's full-length masterpieces, are already familiar with the strange settings and disorienting dialogue of this groundbreaking 20th century dramatist, founder of "theatre of the absurd."  But brace yourselves for the extremes to which Beckett goes in these three brilliantly paired works, deftly directed by Ciaran Reilly. They are daring, disrupting, and downright dangerous, dramatically speaking.

Sarah Street (Photo: Carol Rosegg)

Not I (1972), the first one, begins with a shock that sets the tone for the entire evening. The voice of a woman penetrates the total darkness of the stage, preventing you from seeing her character's name in the program. She is (appropriately) called "Mouth," referring to her only feature that you'll ever see, her lips painted a fierce red, spotlit by Michael Gottlieb. "Mouth" (played spectacularly by Sarah Street) narrates her entire life story at breakneck speed over the next ten stunning minutes. "Out.into this world.this world. a tiny little thing" she begins her life story of a woman prematurely born, abandoned shortly thereafter, who has led a life of silence till now, when she spews forth a raging torrent of words against the world that has treated her cruelly. Told in a breathless, uninterrupted stream of consciousness that jumps back and forth over time (with fragmented phrases and repetitions), we never know the exact details and circumstances, save for a few specific moments she describes over her seventy-some years (e. g. lying in the grass, standing in a supermarket). What we do learn is that she's lived a brutal life of devastating silence, alone and unloved - a life that is now finally being expressed.

No sooner are you left stunned and disoriented at the close of this raging narrative, than the lights rise again - this time on a short play called Play (1962-63), featuring an equally strange and unexpected sight. Three large urns(each three feet high)  have been placed on stage in a row; from each, a head protrudes. They feature Woman 1 (Kate Forbes), Man (Roger Dominic Casey) and Woman 2 (Sarah Street again). According to Beckett's stage direction, their faces are "so lost to age that they seem almost part of the urns."  During a narrative flood of twenty minutes, they speak in elevated voices, sometimes as a "chorus" (although what each says simultaneously is completely different), other times in direct audience address. Once again, Michael Gottlieb's spotlight controls the audience's attention, jumping from one speaking character to the next. Out of this cacophony emerges a narrative. They tell the story (twice) of a love triangle between a married couple and the man's lover. It's a melodramatic tale: the wife discovers the affair; she hires a detective; she threatens to kill her husband; he promises to end it; he doesn't; the wife confronts the mistress; the mistress burns the husband's belongings.and the tale gets told all over again. The funereal setting seems to suggest that the characters are trapped in this triangle for all eternity. (Note: evidently, this story may be partially autobiographical.)

Sarah Street, Roger Dominic Casey, and Kate Forbes (Photo: Carol Rosegg)

And now comes the pièce de résistance: the monologue titled Krapp's Last Tape (1958), in a breathtaking performance by F. Murray Abraham. Dressed in tattered clothes (designed by Orla Long), an old man sits alone in his room. His desktop is cluttered with boxes containing tapes; his drawers are stuffed with them, too (set by Charlie Corcoran). In a series of repeated, ritualized actions, he opens and shuts the boxes, locks and unlocks the drawers, exits and reenters the room. On two occasions, he pulls a banana from a drawer - which he proceeds to bite with relish. (There's a playful Beckettian touch, when he drops the peel and proceeds to slip on it.) Gradually, he engages in an annual ritual - the recording of a tape summarizing his thoughts and memories for that year. But first he finds an old tape recorded many decades ago when he was thirty-nine - filled, primarily, with memories of sexual encounters, heard in fragments (as he stops and starts the recorder). Eventually he records fresh comments on the current year.

As in the previous one-acts, ritualized repetition is the main feature of the dialogue. Several phrases are heard again and again - for example, "Box 3, spool 5," referring to one of the tapes for which he was searching. As for its contents:  "We lay there without moving..", he repeats, as he achingly recalls his intimate sexual moments. "Now the day is over," he sings again and again.

Watching F. Murray Abraham peel and eat a banana is a masterclass in acting - as is his entire performance. Since there isn't much live narration (most of it is on a pre-recorded tape), his every action is specific and nuanced. From these fragmented moments we get a full, rich portrayal of an old man who looks back on the details of his long life with feeling and regret. "But I wouldn't want them back: not with the fire in me now," he concludes abruptly, at the conclusion of the last tape he'll ever make.

F. Murray Abraham (Photo: Carol Rosegg)

What a journey from cradle to the grave, as the program subtitle suggests! Beckett's masterful craft - telling a life story in seventy-five minutes in fragmented narrative and elliptical dialogue - is astonishing. "I can't go on. I'll go on."  It's my favorite quote from Beckett - and this evening of three "Beckett Briefs," shows that he did.

Beckett Briefs: From the Cradle to the Grave

At the Irish Repertory Theatre

Through March 16.

Tickets: https://irishrep.org/shows/beckett-briefs/