Samuel Beckett once said of his work: no metaphors where none are intended. One clear pointer is the literal dimension of his plays' titles. Waiting For Godot is, indeed, about the business and inevitability of waiting, Endgame is a game about the ending of the world, Happy Days can, extraordinarily, be taken at face value. And Krapp's Last Tape concerns the last audio tape being made by an old man.

Krapp has taped a record of each of his birthdays, the celebratory drill being to play an earlier one chosen at random, then add to the archive. Now he is 69, and the fire of life burns low. He finds and plays volume three, spool five, and suddenly a man aged 39 is speaking of the death of love, of the years when there was a chance of happiness. The stranger who has succeeded him listens with anger, frustration and, finally, apathy.

It is a brilliant concept, wonderfully executed, a life shaped by a few hundred words and the power of suggestion. The play begins with Krapp sitting at a table in darkness, while a white light gradually grows stronger above his head. His predecessor installed it, recording that with the darkness around him, he felt less alone. Now Krapp moves about in that darkness, bringing things to the table.

The rest is talk and gesture, both in minimal mode as delivered by John Hurt. His is a superb performance, reaching heights and depths of communication through intonation and movement. He is clearly one of those lucky actors who displace air on stage, dominating a role through natural stage authority and professional disciplines.

There are also, I believe, actors pre-programmed to play Beckett through appearance and psychological disposition, and he is of their number.

The play lasts for just an hour, much of which is inspired silence. Director Robin LefΦvre, with the benefit of an exceptional actor, does a job of modulation that is a perfect fit for it, and together they deliver an experience that goes beyond the theatrical.

Runs until September 22nd; bookings at 01-8744045/8746042