With little character background, only a vague sense of time and place, and a far-ranging discussion that covers a multitude of philosophical, religious, psychological and political topics, it's no wonder Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot" is rarely staged – or more precisely, not always staged well. Voted the most significant English language play of the 20th century in a poll of playwrights, actors, directors and journalists conducted by the British Royal National Theatre, "Godot" is likely among the most debated plays ever written – with little agreement among critics, thespians and theatergoers regarding the meaning behind Beckett's words. ("Why people have to complicate a thing so simple I can't make out," he once said.)
That has led to some rather spectacular productions of "Godot" over the years and an equal number of awful ones, as a blank canvas such as this invites an artist to leave his mark on such a difficult work. So with that in mind, I arrived at Detroit's coolest theater – The Abreact – on opening night intrigued by the high caliber of talent involved with the production. Would my love for the script overpower their attempt to bring "Godot" to life, I wondered? (I've seen more than my share of disappointing interpretations over the years.) Or would I walk out impressed with their production?
My response was certainly the latter, thanks to the loving and skillful hands of Aardvark Tim's Adam Barnowski and Andrea Smith and their excellent performers. Even Beckett himself would be pleased, I believe – with but one exception.
Intimately staged with the audience seated on three sides of the performance space, "Godot" opens with two men, Estragon (David Schoen) and Vladimir (Stephen Blackwell), waiting along a country road for the arrival of someone named Godot, a man they hardly know and likely won't recognize. Their surroundings are barren, with only a tree to break up the monotony. Why they are waiting for Godot is unclear, yet wait they must – and so to pass the time, the longtime friends talk. And argue. About anything and everything.
Their daily routine is broken by the arrival of the pompous Pozzo (Dave Davies) and Lucky (Lance Alan), his not-aptly named slave. (Pozzo has tired of Lucky and is on his way to the market to sell him.) Later, a boy (Sarah Galloway) shows up with a message from his master, Godot, who will not be there today, but maybe tomorrow.
And so the waiting continues. Unless the two decide to leave. Or not.
Told in two acts and over two consecutive days, "Godot" is packed with so much symbolism and so many juicy morsels, that theatergoers are offered a delectable smorgasbord of ideas and concepts upon which to ruminate and discard for days on end. Is Godot God? Does God even exist? Is it Purgatory where they are waiting? Are Pozzo and Lucky later versions of Estragon and Vladimir? Are Estragon and Vladimir lovers? All these questions and countless others have been chewed upon since the play's first production in 1953 – and so I shall leave it to those who see the play to ponder these weighty thoughts for themselves without any interpretation from me. (Why bother? Your guess is as good as mine!)
But I suspect we'll be in full agreement regarding The Abreact's interpretation of what Beckett calls a "tragicomedy."
Beckett's dialogue flows much like any long conversation between two people: It ebbs, it flows, it stops, it starts, it meanders along, and it changes direction in an instant. So with that in mind, how does a director keep an audience engaged throughout the play's nearly three hours running time? By breaking down its beats, of course, and finding every emotion and thought process therein. The next step is to have fun playing with them, and that's exactly what directors Barnowski and Smith have done with their production. The result is a perfectly paced and well thought-out night at the theater.
And they're helped considerably by the fine performances of their actors.
Schoen and Blackwell are in total synch with one other from start to finish. These aren't actors plying their trade, but two friends unknowingly sharing intimate moments in front of an audience. Nor are they simply delivering lines; rather, they're communicating with one another. (Watch their eyes and body language; both are important tools that help tell the story.) And if you notice an occasional tip of the hat to the comedy team of Laurel and Hardy, you're correct: Many scholars believe it was intentional on Beckett's part, and those brief flashes are well played by Schoen and Blackwell. As such, Blackwell's more serious Vladimir is the perfect contrast to Schoen's clownish Estragon. (Schoen's facial expressions are priceless. And why did I keep seeing Red Skelton in his portrayal?)
Lance Alan has much of the show's heavy lifting to do – which is a bad pun, actually, noting that his character, Lucky, gets to carry around a stool, a suitcase and a few other items for much of his time on stage.
And he does so at the beck and call (and at the end of a rope held tightly by) the sometimes cruel Pozzo. It's another fine performance by Davies, who continues to grow and impress this critic with roles outside his initial comfort zone of comedy and improv.
One casting decision, though, would not have gone over well with the playwright. I'm not sure why, but the directors cast Sarah Galloway in the role of Boy – which, based upon the pronouns tossed about during the show, is a bit mystifying and didn't add anything particularly insightful to the production. And it totally contradicts Beckett's desire to have only men play all the roles. (He once sued a Dutch theater company that cast a woman in the show. He lost, but the peeved playwright banned future productions of all his plays in the Netherlands.)
The atmosphere created by Eric W. Maher's set and lights suits the show perfectly. And it's a rare "set change" that elicits laughs quite the way one particular event provoked on opening night.
So who IS Godot, you'll ultimately ask yourself after spending a night with Beckett's characters? Even his creator claimed ignorance. "If I knew, I would have said so in the play," he once told his favorite director, Alan Schneider. So, apparently with Beckett's blessing, you're free to make your OWN assumptions about Godot's identity. And also the meaning of the play itself. That's why a well-staged production of "Waiting for Godot" is such a tasty treat! And The Abreact's production is a yummy morsel indeed! (But be forewarned: Don't sit in one of the large and comfortable stuffed chairs – especially after downing a cold brew or two – or you'll likely fight a tough battle to keep your eyes open!)
REVIEW:
'Waiting for Godot'
The Abreact Performance Space, 1301 W. Lafayette Ave. #113, Detroit. Friday-Saturday through May 7, plus May 1 & 5. Admission by donation. 313-485-0217. http://www.theabreact.com.
