No red Herons in Beckett

Beckett is certainly not what one would call family theatre, yet it is this inaccessibility that has elevated the playwright to the heights where I’m sure he will remain.

It is fitting therefore that a man of such high esteem should have his work moulded by the illustrious Johnny Heron, whose reputation is arguably on a par with Beckett’s in the microcosm of the Capital Centre.

As someone who has never seen Beckett in performance before, Heron’s interpretation was impressive and useful, shedding light on a previously clouded understanding of a text. The performance was slick, remaining true to the script and avoided gimmicks. Johnny, like Beckett, had no intention of leading us down the garden path and forcing a message down our throats.

For an astounding price of only two pounds, Heron invited us to broaden our knowledge of two of Beckett’s lesser known shorts; beautifully orchestrated with a combination of humour and tension enhanced by a crisp and unremitting ticking clock.

From start to finish the audience clung to every movement and sound however minute, testament to Beckett’s renown.