Where do we go from here? On.
The Guthrie's first production of Samuel Beckett's classic Waiting for Godot since the year I was born (which was a long time ago), and Artistic Director's Joseph Haj's first time directing it, comes at the perfect time. Written as a reflection on the devastation of WWII, it speaks to the idea of waiting. For what? Anything. For things to get better, for things to get worse, for salvation. As cast member Jimmy Keiffer explained in a post-show discussion, absurdism is the idea that life has no meaning, so what do we do to give it meaning? What seems on the surface a silly and ridiculous little play at some point becomes exquisitely profound, with the "giving birth astride of a grave" of it all. And it's somehow oddly hopeful, despite the existential angst. In the face of destruction or disaster, the only thing we can do is go on.
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David Strathairn as Didi and Jimmy Kieffer as Gogo
(photo by Dan Norman) |
You might think
Waiting for Godot a two-hander, from the way it's marketed sometimes, but it's really a five-hander. Although two hands do the heavy lifting. In this production, that work falls to Jimmy Kieffer (the Guthrie's most recent
Puck and Falstaff) as Estragon and David Strathairn (from the movies and TV) as Vladimir. They are an endearing pair, David as the more loquacious Didi and Jimmy as the oft complaining Gogo, quite believable as old friends. After some rambling conversations, they're joined on stage by the odd pair of Pozzo (a perfectly pompous William Sturdivant) and his servant Lucky, whom he keeps on a leash (Jim Lichtscheidl imbuing this mostly silent character with so much emotion and character, and whom I saw play Didi in the only previous production of this play I've seen,
at the Jungle in 2012 directed and designed by the late great Bain Boehlke). Rounding out the cast is Antonio Teodoro, with two brief but important appearances as Godot's messenger. This is a solid cast, well-directed by Joseph Haj in a way that makes the themes and revelations of the play clear, even when some of the nonsense the characters are uttering is not. There's also a great use of physicality in the piece, with help from movement director Carl Flink and fight director Annie Enneking.
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| photo by Dan Norman |
The design also helps to tell this story. The play is set amidst the destruction of a war or some other devastating event. The thrust stage is empty except for a lone and bare tree, with gray rubble encircling the stage, a log and a rock the only seating for these poor fellows. The back of the stage is hung with a black curtain, the lighting making it appear as a black void or nothingness behind the daylight around the tree, which suddenly turns to nightfall. The sound design is subtle and at times ominous, almost without realizing it's there. Our characters are dressed in shabby chic clothes, except for the regal Pozzo in a long purple coat, all wearing bowler hats that become comedic props. The overall effect of the design is a specific and thoughtfully constructed bleakness. (Scenic design by Marion Williams, costume design by Trevor Bowen, lighting design by Christopher Akerlind, sound design by Darron L West.)
As discussed in the post-show talkback I was fortunate to attend, who or what Godot represents is not the point. But watching it this time around, I had the idea that maybe Godot is death. And like Syrio says to Arya, "There is only one god, and His name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: 'not today'." So Didi and Gogo will come back tomorrow, waiting for Godot. And what will they do in the waiting? Talk, laugh, play games, argue, eat, help a stranger. And wait.
