SAmuel Beckett's 1953 tragicomedy about two sad men waiting by a willow tree for a mysterious figure to appear strikes a delicate balance between the absurd and the bleak, the funny and the terrifying.
In James MacDonald's production, the drama between Estragon (Lucian M'Samati) and Vladimir (Ben Whishaw), who form an unspoken bond while waiting for Godot, seems more comic than tragic.
Estragon is more realistic, hunched and gruff, his overalls half-unzipped and hanging around his waist; Vladimir is more flighty, with his trousers pulled up around his waist. They look like modern fools in urban clothes (with pom-poms and trendy trapper hats replacing the traditional bowler hat).
In the first act, they're both more confused and lost, but a sweet affection develops between them, and they gravitate towards each other and hold hands like boys. Whishaw and Msamati work well together, swearing and chattering, as verbal distractions are a constant testament to Beckett's world.
silence do In the first act, it's not frequent enough, but I wish there was more, because once the tension eases and the comedy fades, the actors are so good – with so many fine dramatic actors, why not give us more edginess?
Ray Smith's set is nowhere to be found the “country lane” of Beckett's script; a bleak, grey landscape looms in the background, as if forming the mound in which Winnie is trapped in Happy Days. Though characters speak of daylight and good weather, the sky on this set remains pitch black. It could be a post-apocalyptic landscape, a kind of purgatory, or the aftermath of war (Beckett wrote it after the Holocaust and his service in the French Resistance).
Pozzo (Jonathan Slinger), the owner of the land on which they stand, looks like a shire tyrant, with his tie, glasses hanging on a chain, and his whip and slave, Lucky. (Tom Eden).
Their master-slave relationship Hamm and Clov in Endgame (written before this play and performed after) take on a harsher, sharper edge in the scene where Vladimir and Estragon witness Pozzo's rage and mistreatment of Lucky. Ironically, Lucky, the only one of them who seems like a classic musical clown, has the meanest, hollowest eye.
In the second act, they become more overtly clownish, with more physical comedy and even a Laurel & Hardy-esque hat-swap routine. Between them, Vladimir and Estragon start to seem like tramps imitating a musical-hall duo. But the comedy also brings a slower pace and a lack of tingly tension between the pair.
When Pozzo and Lucky return, the humor approaches Pythonesque, and indeed the pair is full of pathos, with Pozzo now blind and Lucky his gentle, obedient slave.
“Do you think God sees me?” Estragon asks, a pessimistic line that seems played for laughs (and the audience does). The comedy works, and so do the dramatic moments, but the two seem a bit disconnected.
Beckett, often considered the supreme priest of nihilistic theatre, offers a tenacious hope in this play: Estragon and Vladimir are ostensibly resigned to Godot's arrival and to life itself, but they continue to hope and wait. This hope is matched by a light-heartedness and comedic attitude that gives the play a gentle spirit, but never descends into tragedy.
