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Which accounts in no small part for the popularity of playwright Samuel Beckett amongst those whose passions lead them to darkened theatres on a regular basis.
Of all the past century's playwrights, Beckett is perhaps the most demanding of his audience, placing his characters in bizarre circumstances and leaving it to the observer to figure out their past, present and, indeed, future.
Last night, Beckett met the home team in a double header and gave a du Maurier World Stage audience a run for their money in an opening night at Harbourfront's Studio Theatre.
The home team, in this case, was captained by two of our finest seasoned actors, Elizabeth Shepherd and John Neville, while Beckett was represented by two of his one-act plays, Footfalls and Krapp's Last Tape.
Like so much of Beckett's work, these are unconventional plays, more in the nature of character studies than traditionally plotted works with a beginning, a middle and an end.
Footfalls -- a monologue of grief and dementia for one actress and two voices -- is the Shepherd vehicle.
Set in a narrow band of light through which Shepherd's character, May (or is it really Amy?) constantly paces in a never-ending conversation, real or imagined, with her ailing mother or the maternal ghost. An unseen Jennifer Phipps supplies the other side of the ongoing dialogue.
Like many of Beckett's characters, the tragic and shattered May seems to be in waiting. In this case, she's waiting not for the end of the world or for Godot, but for an end to the open wound that has become her life.
Under the direction of William Scoular, Shepherd turns in a quietly harrowing performance -- a portrait of shattered suffering, marred only occasionally by the high theatricality Scoular imposes on the piece.
There's also an element of overly rich theatricality in Neville's performance, as he tackles the title role in Krapp's Last Tape under the directiton of Graham Cozzubbo and paints another landscape study of Beckett's grim view on aging.
In celebration of his 69th birthday, the lonely Krapp sits down to tape record his refelections, just as he apparently has done every year for the past 30, and finds himself reliving yet again the very real pain of lost love, finding that time, in some ways, has deepened that wound and not healed it.
Under Cozzubbo's direction, Neville finds a rich vein of humour to counter the essential pain of the piece, but indulges nonetheless in some actorly moments that serve the performer more than the play.
But, in the end, both actors inspire their audiences to participate and, as always happens when Beckett and fine actors come together, a dedicated audience emerges as the winner.