Sean Barrs 's review of Waiting for Godot (original) (raw)
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Sean Barrs 's Reviews > Waiting for Godot
Who wants to see a play in which nothing happens? Who wants to see a play in which the characters make little or no sense? Who wants to see a play in which the same senseless nothingness is repeated in the second and only other act? Not me that’s for sure. I honestly don’t think I could sit through a production of this, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate its artistic merit on the page.
Nothing happens, but that is the beauty of it.
A famous theatre reviewer once said “this is a play in which nothing happens, twice.” He was right, of course, but at the same time recognised the brilliance of the play. The fact that nothing happens is the reason why this play is so clever and tragic. The characters are stuck in this cycle of nothingness; they are destined to spend each day waiting for the mysterious entity known as Godot. He never comes. If nothingness didn’t happen twice then we, as the audience, would be unaware of this fact and, consequently, be ignorant to the tragic brilliance of the play.
“ESTRAGON: I can't go on like this. VLADIMIR: That's what you think.”
Indeed, the plot is bizarrely simple: two men Vladimir and Estragon are simply waiting for Godot. They don’t remember why they are waiting or even who this Godot character is. They just know that they must wait. Whilst they wait they encounter two equally as strange characters, Pozzo and Lucky. Lucky is Pozzo’s slave for no apparent reason and the two seem completely dependent on each other like Vladimir and Estragon are themselves. The four engage in a weird and perplexing conversation, and then go about their business. The next act is very similar to the first.
Beckett breaks the rules
The play belongs to the absurdist theatre branch, which challenges the conventions of the realism theatre of the ninetieth and early twentieth centuries; it does the exact opposite to what was considered a well-made play. The characters carry out a chain of repetitive and mundane dialogue, which is completely devoid of any concreate meaning. There are no geographical or historical specifications as the dialogue is reduced down to a series of pointless statements. We have no idea where these characters are or where they’ve come from. The play appears illogical and rich in purposelessness, but it is utterly brilliant; it was something completely “out there” at the time, and still is really.
“Estragon: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist? Vladimir: Yes, yes, we're magicians.”
In all honestly this play is excruciating to read; it is completely awful in parts and frustrating, but the idea Samuel Beckett conveys at the same time is grand; it makes up for the torture he has put you through as you look back and realise what he has achieved: you look back and understand why he has broken all the conventions and wrote a play that is as absurd as it is genius. By doing so he has recognised the strange absurdity that is human existence, and questioned the purposelessness of this thing we call life. He has created a Tragedy, as great as any that came before it, by using the most unconventional of methods.
I could never give this a five star rating because it is just too painful to read regardless of what it achieves. However, to ignore the artistic merit of the play would be an act of pure self-conceiting ignorance. As Estragon says:
“Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.”
I will never read this again, or ever go to watch it at a theatre, but it is something I look back on and say “what a brilliant idea” even if I found the reading process quite painful and dull.
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Reading Progress
May 25, 2015 – Shelved as:plays
May 25, 2015 –Finished Reading
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