News
HMS Is Facing a Deficit. Under Trump, Some Fear It May Get Worse.
News
Cambridge Police Respond to Three Armed Robberies Over Holiday Weekend
News
What’s Next for Harvard’s Legacy of Slavery Initiative?
News
MassDOT Adds Unpopular Train Layover to Allston I-90 Project in Sudden Reversal
News
Denied Winter Campus Housing, International Students Scramble to Find Alternative Options
Gogo and Didi, the heroes of Waiting for Godot, are Beckett's symbols of the twentieth century man; they are former hoboes, now burns, who dress in the loose fitting and shabby formal clothes of the burlesque clown; they are former homosexuals, now incapable of satisfying each other beyond a furtive embrace or a titillating story about an Englishman in a brothel; and, because of Beckett's genius for paradox, they turn out to be dignified human beings.
"In the meantime," says Gogo, "let us try and converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping silent." Waiting for Godot has nearly no action, only waiting and talk, the talk to make the waiting pass more quickly. Gogo, intellectually an infant, curls into a foetal position and sleeps whenever he has the chance, tries to tell Didi about his dreams, talks of running away so that Didi will convince him to stay, and whines about his aching feet. Didi knows that his only important job is to keep the two together. He ignores Gogo when necessary, refuses to listen to his dreams, creates a pleasant illusion when that is what is needed to case the pain, and, most important, keeps the two together, waiting for Godot.
As for the complex system of religious symbols which critics so delight in organizing--the Godot who never comes, the young boy he sends as his messenger with news of his imminent coming, the tree and the rock (the play's only two props), the talk about the two thieves who may or may not have been crucified with Christ--it is as senseless, trivial, and disorganized as it seems to be. "Has he a beard?" asks Didi softly. "Yes sir," answers the boy. "Fair or...(he hesitates)...or black?" "I think it's white, sir." Silence. "Christ have mercy on us!"
The constant undercutting of pompous pronouncements about twentieth century notions of the plight of modern man manifests itself in talk about God, nature ("We should turn resolutely towards nature." "We've tried that."), and even about the play itself ("...yesterday evening we spent blathering about nothing in particular. That's been going on now for half a century," or "This is becoming really insignificant.") But, Beckett also elevates vaudeville routines--quick changes of identical hats and pants falling down--and cliched conversation into ironic or obscene importance. Gogo says, "I can't go on like this." and Didi replies, "That's what you think." And that's the point of the play.
The play's only action takes place with the arrival in each of the two acts of Pozzo, the tyrannical overlord, and Lucky, his equally brutal slave. Lucky is an artist: in the first act he performs a grotesque dance, and, when commanded by Pozzo to think, makes his only speech, "Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattman of a personal God quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the height of divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers like the divine Miranda with those who for reasons unknown..." and so on for a hundred lines more. The speech elevates Pozzo to an exquisite suffering, and eventually he silences Lucky. When they return in the second act, Pozzo is blind and Lucky dumb, their suffering real, their lives going on as before.
The only defect in Michael Murray's direction was a failure in the timing of some of the comic bits, but that will undoubtedly improve in the course of the play's run. Mr. Murray understood the play and used his actors' talents to perfection. He made several delightful additions, like a hilarious mimicking of Pozzo by Gogo during Lucky's tirade.
Though I have never seen Bert Lahr play the part of Gogo, I am sure Micky Deems has, more than once. His movements and even his voice are uncannily like Lahr's, except that, unlike Lahr, Deems has never been quoted to have said, "I don't understand a damn word in the whole play." His performance is splendid. Dan Morgan plays Didi in the manner of a surly, gravel voiced straight man. Though he has only two movements on stage--a mincing goose-step and a tugging at his bagy trousers--he is perfect for the role.
The Charles Playhouse performs a valuable service to the local community, and I am delighted to be able to recommend this production.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.