Dennehy's Last Tape

“So”—these are Brian Dennehy’s first words to me, as he crunches on peanut M&M’s—“you’re sticking to the end with journalism, huh?” Which leads to his discussion of Rupert Murdoch’s Wall Street Journal article on the Fourth Estate’s future. Which then leads to the burly bibliophile’s other recent reads—a biography of Hadrian, a book on Roald Dahl—before we arrive at the occasion for our meeting: As part of his long association with the Goodman (leading to his two Tony wins), Dennehy, 71, stars in the Broadway-bound Hughie by Eugene O’Neill and Krapp’s Last Tape by Samuel Beckett—a pairing of one-acts chosen by the actor himself.

Why put these two plays together?
In O’Neill’s play, a guy looks back on his life and convinces himself he’s had this really wonderful, productive life. The irony is we realize what an empty, meaningless, absurd existence it is. It’s the same play as Krapp’s Last Tape.

Does that resonate personally, the idea of looking back, taking stock?
Oh, yeah, except I don’t have to convince myself and I certainly don’t have to be convinced that it’s all kind of absurd and meaningless to begin with.

So you look at your achievements and consider them meaningless?
Well, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy my life and I’m not saying I didn’t make some things happen that were interesting. I have, and I’m glad I did. But in Krapp’s Last Tape, a man pulls out a banana, peels it, drops the peel on the floor, eats the banana. The audience is looking at the peel because it knows the man is gonna slip on that banana peel and hurt his ass, and that’s the joke. But what Beckett says is that’s the entire joke, always.… Beckett’s point is that there really isn’t any point.

And you agree.
Well, I don’t think you should sit in the corner sucking your thumb. You enjoy yourself, and work does provide me with enjoyment.

But not necessarily meaning?
Yes, it has its own meaning—if you can use yourself to make the audience see something about themselves that they did not understand before.

I’ve heard the Brian Dennehy of yore was quite the hell-raiser.
I’m still capable of it. I come from an Irish Catholic family, and hell-raising is [Laughs] part of the DNA. I played football, my body is a disaster from playing football, I was in the peacetime Marine Corps for four years, and drank and fucked off like you couldn’t believe.

Your father wasn’t exactly supportive of this career. You’ve said, “Anyone raised in a first- or second-generation immigrant family knows you’re expected to advance the ball further down the field.” Were you ever able to show your dad you’d done what you wanted and advanced the ball?
I remember coming back after doing Gorky Park, ’81 or ’82. I was sitting in the little house right outside of Long Island where he lived for his whole life. He never, ever asked me about money. He had worked hard at the Associated Press; I don’t think he ever made more than 25 thousand a year, which was a lot of money for the AP. All of a sudden it came out: “How much do they pay you?” I knew if I gave him the real number, it would somehow diminish what he had done his whole life.

What was the real number?
It was maybe 150 thousand bucks. It was good money, great money for who I was. But it would be difficult for him to understand that, given the care and the effort he put into his job. So I lied. I told him it was a lot less. To a great extent, we got crazy with this bullshit: huge amounts of money. You make a lot of money, you buy Billy Joel’s house in the Hamptons for 25 million dollars, tear it down, build a house for 50 million dollars.

And now we’re slipping on that peel.
Yeah. Exactly. And it’s funny. It’s fucking hilarious. See, my father never slipped on that peel. And I didn’t want to put that peel in front of him because part of me knew then that it was bullshit, that I wasn’t worth that kind of money to do anything. And to be a fucking actor? Now, did I turn it down? Fuck no. Did I spend it? Fuck yes.

Since you’re in our fitness issue: How do you keep fit, Mr. Dennehy?
I’ve got two artificial knees, I have an artificial shoulder, and I’m reasonably healthy given the [Laughs] damage I’ve done to myself. Everything hurts.

So no more late-night bars for you?
Oh, hell, I was out last night. [Laughs] Listen, I’m no goddamn puritan. I love Kingston Mines.

What time’d you get home?
Oh, it wasn’t late. 11:30. For an old man? That’s pretty good. My problem is, if any place I’m sleeping catches on fire I’ve got a problem because it takes me 20 minutes to get everything moving in the morning. But I’m not complaining. As I say, it’s funny.

Hughie and Krapp’s Last Tape begin previews at the Goodman January 16.

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