On Beckett, Chenoweth, Krapp, and Napping: An Existential Conversation with F. Murray Abraham

Few actors have the command of F. Murray Abraham. With a career spanning over 90 plays and 80 films, he has brought unforgettable characters to vivid life, from his Oscar-winning performance as Salieri in Amadeus on screen to turns as Shylock, Pozzo, Galileo, Lear, Bottom, and Roy Cohn on stage. In recent years, he earned an Emmy nomination for his performance as the horny womanizer Bert Di Grasso in season two of HBO’s The White Lotus, and had a rare musical turn opposite Kristin Chenoweth in the new musical The Queen of Versailles.  

Now, Abraham takes on one of theater’s most haunting and introspective roles: Krapp in Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape, part of a triptych of Beckett playlets at the Irish Rep. As an aging man confronting his past through old recordings, Krapp wrestles with time, regret, and the fragments of memory—an experience Abraham finds deeply personal. And even more deeply unsettling.

In this conversation, he reflects on the demands of Beckett, the discipline of memorization, and the way certain performances bring long-buried emotions to the surface. But first, we talked about naps.

“How are you?” he begins.

Good. How are you?
I’m good. I haven’t been out, but as cold as it is, it’s just such a pretty, pretty sky. Yesterday was bitter, but I liked it.

I did too. I have a three-year-old and she gets up early every morning and we watch the sunrise together.
Oh, isn’t that swell? Do you find yourself needing a nap when she does?

Oh, I need a nap already.
I’ve discovered that I can’t do without one.

Especially doing Beckett eight times a week, even though it’s not very long.
It’s funny you should mention that. I was explaining to a good friend in California that it’s not a long play, but I’m wiped out by the end of it. I’m ready to go home and go to bed, or lay down, anyhow.

Was this your first encounter with Mr. Krapp?
Yes, it is. I’ve done Godot before, but this is only my second Beckett. It’s his favorite play, and you can see why. It feels very personal.

I’m roughly the age of the voice of the younger Krapp on the tape recorder.
Do you identify with it?

It hit me in a far different way now than it did when I read it in college.
That’s the magic of the work.

How tough was this play to unlock, both the words on the page and their deeper meaning?
You have to immerse yourself in a play before you can really understand it, I think. I mean, completely understand it. I love Shakespeare’s sonnets. I was reading Helen Vendler’s book on the sonnets, and I rely on it so much for research and study, because I enjoy it. I think it’s important for an actor, especially if he’s not working, to continue to massage his memory. Really, it’s the same as a physical workout. Anyhow, I memorized the sonnets. And she made a comment in her book that she realized she doesn’t really understand a sonnet if she can’t memorize it.

I feel the same way about lines in a play. If they don’t stick, it means you don’t get it. You can’t kid yourself about that because it’s not there. You can reach it, you can paraphrase, but there’s something missing. The other actors [in this production] have a remarkable achievement. I think they have more words in the first minute than I do in the whole thing. It was an accomplishment for them simply to memorize it.

So, I started working on this as soon as I knew I was going to do it. And it was really hard, because of what it demands. You’re drawing on yourself. I find myself not consciously going for certain memories, but I find them surfacing everywhere. It’s disturbing in that I thought I had buried all of these regrets, but they’re right there, baby. God damn it.

I was going to ask, do you see yourself thinking back to your younger days?
It’s not that specific, interestingly enough. All kinds of memories are surfacing. And some of them are nice. But it’s the regrets that I find myself analyzing and thinking, “I wish so-and-so was still alive so I can say ‘Hey, I’m really sorry.'” Do you ever go through that?

Sure. I think most people do.
I did go through that with some people who said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mean I didn’t really hurt your feelings? I’m not trying to carry this around for no reason. And then there are the people who remember but don’t want to talk about it.

As an actor, it seems to be a stimulating exercise, difficult as it is.
it’s two things. I do think I’m doing a good job. It feels right. I’m glad I’m doing it. People are coming out of the woodwork, people I haven’t seen in a while, and they are all pleased with what they’re seeing. I’m glad they’re moved. It’s satisfying. It’s gratifying.

But at the same time, I really look forward to saying goodbye to it. It’s a chore. And I’m wiped at the end of it. I’m not bitching, I’m not complaining. But I do recognize it for what it is.

How does this experience compare in terms of difficulty to the musical Queen of Versailles, which you did last summer with Kristin Chenoweth and is coming to Broadway this year?
That’s going to be like a vacation; I can’t wait. We did it in Boston, and you just don’t run into a company that size where everyone gets along. It’s not very common. I’m so pleased to be able to say that we really liked each other, and it was really sad to say goodbye. I think we did very well. And Kristin’s got a big following. She’s sensational to work with.

It’s a challenge for me because I’m not primarily a singer or a dancer, and I’m on stage with all those dancers who are really, really good. They’re the crème de la crème. You see them and you think “Jesus, this is another level.” And I’ve got to be on stage with them doing what they do.

But well, that’s why you do it, isn’t it? To challenge yourself.