Epic: Krapp's Last Tape

In class we just discussed Beckett's Krapp's Last tape. If you are unfamiliar with the play, it is about a 69 year old man who has kept annual tapes about his life. Each year, he listens to a previous one and then records a new one. From the title, we can take it that Krapp was to die before the year was over (hence, this is his last tape).

Overall, there's not much to Krapp. He eats bananas, drinks (some say he's an alcoholic), and makes these recordings. We know that he had aspirations to be a writer, but his text didn't sell very well. In fact, we are told that it only sold 17 copies...11 of which went to libraries. Krapp's is a life filled with emptiness and regret.

The tape that he listens to is one from 30 years earlier. He focuses on a place where he describes a love scene on a boat. This passage he plays over and over again. On the ledger that he records labels for his tapes, he has written "Farewell to Love" by this particular tape. Bit by bit, Krapp had removed everyone from his life. Now, Krapp is in a Spartan room, alone at the end of his life.

Students expressed how depressing Krapp's life was and how depressing this play was. One student asked why he was named Krapp. After all, the name alone made it difficult to discuss such a serious work. Krapp, we are told, has a white face, a red nose, and large shoes. He looks very much like a clown...If only he was so depressing. What Krapp represents is ultimate alienation. He is alone. He has made and listens to his tapes...Analyzing his life, looking for meaning. Yet, he doesn't even like himself (he calls himself a "stupid bastard").

Students were having a hard time relating to Krapp, so I commented that we are like Krapp. The students, of course, rejected this notion. After all, they have their lives ahead of them and live without regrets (at least without regrets of the magnitude of Krapp's).

Yet, when you think of it, Krapp represents the ultimate alienation that has occurred between man and God after the Fall. At one time, we were in paradise (or on a lake) with God. Yet, we wanted something different, so we gave it up. Perhaps, we might say, as Krapp said, "Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back." Yet, when we really think about it, wouldn't we want them back. Krapp, by the end of his life, would like to have them back. He made a choice, but the price was high. Humanity also made a choice, and the price was high.

This is how I think Krapp's Last Tape fits into the epic. It represents the alienation that we have experienced since the Fall. God did not make us to be alone, but to be in fellowship (for more on this, check out http://www.epicreality.com/WTD11.html). Krapp gave up his present for a possible future, and recorded his life to live in the past. He sought meaning within his own recorded life. In this way, he is a "stupid bastard." Instead, meaning is to be found my finding our place in the greater story. Finding this place comes, not from disconnecting one's self but through fellowship and relationship with God.

It's all a story

In my frantic life, I rush to and fro. This demand and that demand always. . .rarely looking much beyond today, seldom beyond tomorrow, never past next week. Into this flurry, Brian says, "I want to meet with you each week."

"Sure," says I. After all, there comes a point where one more thing to do is just one more thing to do. There comes a point where I gave up hope of getting unburied and just kept shoveling. The beauty of my job, however, is that there is a point where it all goes away. There is a point at the end of the semester where I can take a breath, relax, and retool for the next semester. All is not lost; there is light up ahead.

So I meet with Brian. I have now met with him twice. Each time, I rush into his office as a man who has places to go and people to see. I enter as a busy person with an attitude of "this had better be important." It is.

Brian invites me to sit, so I sit. Brian asks me about my week, so I tell him. Brian asks me to think about more than today, tomorrow, or next week, so I talk about more than today, tomorrow, or next week. For that hour, Brian starts to lift me out of the minutiae of everyday life, and gives me an hour to think about something more than just this instant, just this day.

So, yesterday, Brian is excited about this new DVD called, Epic. This morning, I go and view the DVD, which features John Eldredge. Eldredge discusses the importance of story. This is nothing new. In fact, Lyotard stated much the same in The Postmodern Condition. We understand the world around us through story. In fact, Lyotard goes so far to say that knowledge has to be expressed in narrative before we do understand it.

Eldredge then goes on to say that stories reflect one another. That is, there are common elements between stories. Again, nothing really new. Northrup Frye stated much the same thing when he was discussing archetypes. Joseph Campbell said much the same in his study of myth.

Where this gets interesting is when Eldredge states that the stories we tell reflect a bigger story, a story of which we are all apart. I'm reminded of a story by Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony. In Ceremony, Tayo is a half-breed, Native American who returns home after WWII. He feels disconnected and lost. At one point, he feels that he is disappearing and invisible. His illness continues until he discovers his role in a bigger tale. I think this is true of all of us. We are all in a bigger tale. In order to get over our illness, we need to look beyond the I and Me of today and to see ourselves as part of something larger. It is only when we see ourselves as something larger that life starts to having meaning and purpose.