Four star review of Krapp's Last Tape with Gary Oldman at York Theatre Royal

It is easy to see why Beckett turns so many people cold. Much of the Irish playwright’s work is not only unremittingly bleak, but ditching anything resembling narrative structure in favour of absurdist dialogue and pregnant pauses, in the wrong hands - which it often is - the result can be bewilderingly turgid.

Anyone previously scarred by a university production of Waiting For Godot, take note. For a short time only it is possible to buy back an hour of wasted life courtesy of Gary Oldman and York Theatre Royal.

Slightly inexplicably, the A-lister is currently starring in a month-long run of Beckett’s 1958 acclaimed one-hander Krapp’s Last Tape, a project which began sprouting wings when Oldman returned to York last year to revisit the theatre where his acting career began in 1979.

It’s a fitting choice. Krapp is 69 and while unlike Oldman (who recently turned 67) his life hasn’t turned out as he planned, both are at a point of reflection. Lonely and unfulfilled, Krapp has no human company. What he does have is a reel to reel tape recorder on which he chronicles what has - or hasn’t - happened in his life.

Oldman doesn’t utter a word for what feels like the first 10 minutes. He shuffles. He eats a banana. He coughs - quite possibly in iambic pentameter. It’s strangely mesmerising. Krapp loves words and so does Oldman, so when he does finally give voice to Beckett’s minimalist script it is less a wrestling match and more of a dance, each syllable drips with meaning and poetry like butter on warm toast.

While Oldman is the only actor on stage, the play is probably best described as a two-hander as the aged Krapp engages with and is haunted by the voice of his younger self. Unsurprisingly, the play is woven with sadness and regret as the optimism and lyricism of the 39 year old Krapp, is met by cynicism and world weariness and Oldman plays it beautifully. Surrounded by a lifetime of debris, he manages to give Beckett’s curmudgeon a much needed dollop of sympathy as he struggles to identify the point when his life veered off course.

The nature of the play means that it is at its atmospheric best in a studio theatre where the audience feel like part of Krapp hoard. Despite Simon Kenny’s beautifully chaotic set, it inevitably loses some of its intimacy in a main house. However, as well as being a trip down memory lane for Oldman this is also a commercial coup for York and the sell-out performances (tickets are now return only) are, financially at least, worth the compromise.

The programme notes that it is 38 years since Oldman last trod the boards; he makes it feel like it was yesterday and as he skips back on for the applause he’s clearly enjoying the experience.

There’s an old cliche that the best actors could read the phonebook and make it interesting - Oldman here might have gone one better.

To May 17.