A.R.T.’s ‘Endgame’ Broods Beautifully Over Life’s Meaning

“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness,” trash can-dwelling Nell says in the American Repertory Theatre’s current production of Samuel Beckett’s “Endgame.”

Indeed, the bleak world and hopeless characters become darkly, sadly funny and wholly human in the hands of a capable team of actors and designers headed by director Marcus Stern. The phenomenal acting, skillful directing, and stunning creative vision of the play—which runs through March 15 at the Loeb Drama Center—produce a near-perfect experience of Beckett’s absurdist drama about nothing and everything.

Will LeBow is Hamm, the blind leader of his twisted little family, which includes his servant Clov (Thomas Derrah) and immobile parents, Nagg (Remo Airaldi) and Nell (Karen MacDonald), who live in ashbins. Unable to move from his wheelchair, Hamm is at once in command of this bizarre family unit and yet powerless to fully control his own self. What ensues is the daily, almost ritualistic routine of these characters, who move towards no perceivable end other than death and are incapable of escape from the misery of their lives.

Andromache Chalfant’s beautiful, austere set enhances this sense of powerlessness and inability to break out of a static life-in-death. A grey crater of a room floating in darkness above the Mainstage, the set is both nowhere and anywhere, a claustrophobic box with no sense of time or place. “Outside of here, it’s death,” Hamm says, but inside has an air of decay as well. The uniform lighting almost never changes, and even the characters themselves are stuck in their initial locations. Cracks and water stains blemish the drab walls; outside light is prevented by boarded windows adorned with ragged, brown curtains.

Adhering closely to Beckett’s own directions, this starkness allows the interactions of the characters to become the focus. In contrast, the A.R.T.’s last staging in 1984 incited sharp criticism from Beckett himself over a too liberal interpretation. However, following Beckett’s stage directions in no way diminishes artistic freedom. A play this rich with pointed banter, absurd characters, and meaningful, open-ended questions needs no grand re-interpretation to be as effective and poignant as it is in this production.

Perhaps some of the play’s emotional resonance is lost through a weak performance by MacDonald, whose Nell never hits the right note despite the actress’ considerable talents. However, the rest of the actors make up for this shortcoming.

LeBow in particular is brilliant as Hamm, especially considering the challenge of being stationary and unable to express himself through his covered eyes. His Hamm is at once needy, terrifying, miserable, vulnerable, and powerful; LeBow slips into and out of all shades of emotion with ease. Even his battle of words and witty dialogue with Derrah’s Clov is pitch perfect, a delicate rhythm and timing established between the two that provides a bitterly comedic give-and-take. This verbal jousting keeps the one-act play moving at a swift pace.

While LeBow is confined to his wheelchair, Derrah provides adept physical clowning, embodying Clov with distinct mannerisms (although LeBow, too, has his moments of physical comedy, wheelchair and all). Airaldi’s Nagg is amusing in an idiosyncratic way, but like Derrah, his performance fittingly becomes affecting and profound when a character dies.

Yet, tragedy in “Endgame” is not necessarily tragic. Instead, it is an affirmation of one’s own existence, complete with both the good and bad that entails. As Hamm says when he discovers that Nagg is crying, “Then he’s living”—however meaningless or illogical that life might be.

—Staff writer Ali R. Leskowitz can be reached at aleskow@fas.harvard.edu.