ACTOR IS ONE TO WATCH IN THESE ONE-ACT PLAYS.

Byline: - Evan Henerson

If Samuel Beckett, Edward Albee and Deaf West Theatre's ever-arresting fusion of spoken text and sign language aren't enough to get viewers through the doors at 5112 Lankershim, I offer a couple of other enticements.

They are: Troy Kotsur's work in ``Krapp's Last Tape'' followed by Troy Kotsur's work in ``The Zoo Story.'' An already masterful -- if hugely bleak -- pairing of important contemporary drama is adrenalized by two Kotsur performances so frighteningly true that even with the words being supplied by another actor, you connect inextricably with the man's plight. Both, after all, are ours.

As Krapp, the 70-year-old Beckett reprobate endlessly watching videos of his younger self, Kotsur is a portrait of discontented isolation. His clothes are disheveled, his hair wild and gray. When he finally fits the correct key to the correct cabinet to unearth a banana or locates the storage box with the desired tape, Kotsur's Krapp finally reaches a plateau. Finally, the character's tiny world has a certain order.

It's a lonely and contemplative performance wherein an often stationary Krapp does nothing but listen -- occasionally reacting -- to the dreams of Krapp at 39. In altering the text so that Krapp is watching film rather than listening to a recording, director Jevon Whetter loses nothing of the work's poignancy. In fact, by allowing us to see a younger Kotsur (Greg Bryan supplies both voices), the effect is to give us two performances in one -- not that Krapp is much for change.

The contrast between Krapp and the ineffectual publisher, Peter, in ``The Zoo Story'' is striking. Albee's play is usually driven by whoever tackles Jerry, the gay boarding-house lodger looking to find some connection -- any connection -- between man and man or between man and beast. And indeed, it's refreshing to see Tyrone Giordano (Huck Finn in Deaf West's version of ``Big River'') bearded, wounded, on the prowl and every bit an adult.

Giordano's is the showier work; the man is a gesticulating, contorting bundle of manias, even baying when the whim hits him (Jeff Alan-Lee otherwise supplies Jerry's voice). But, again, it's Kotsur's Peter who anchors the piece; Kotsur, whose character has to sit transfixed on that bench as this Central Park lunacy unfolds around him. And it's Kotsur's character who is goaded into the play's final shocking act.

Back in the company's NoHo performing space for the first time in more than a year, Deaf West has scrimped on production values.

Krapp's claustrophobic little room -- complete with all the outdated technology a man like Krapp would own -- is rendered with spare exactitude by set and costume designer Karyl Newman.

After intermission, Krapp's digs disappear and the space is opened up via a beautiful array of Central Park photographs by Stephen Charles Nicholson. Newman strews the ground with fallen leaves.

Coupled with the central performance, that's elegance all around.

A NIGHT OF ONE ACTS - Three stars

Where: Deaf West Theatre, 5112 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood.

When: 8 p.m. Thursday and Friday, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturday, 3 p.m. Sunday; through Feb. 18.

Tickets: $20 to $22. [phone], [phone] or visit www.deafwest.org.

In a nutshell: They're anything but cheery, and they strike home.