"Nothing to be done."; Waiting for Godot begins with this sentence. When this phrase escapes from Estragon's mouth, Beckett quickly discovers a kind of thunderous philosophical lesson: "Really and absolutely nothing can be done." The empty space that Beckett has dedicated forces us to this conclusion. The stage setting is drawn very simply, and Beckett strips it of any characteristic that might give it a particularity as much as possible.

This can be clearly seen at the beginning of the English translation of the play written by Beckett himself:

a country road. a tree.

Beckett presents both of these, which are considered the only elements of the stage, without an article. A tree and a country road that can be any tree and any road. Beckett continues this policy until the end of the play. There is no reason that Henrik Ibsen, one of the directors who brought Waiting for Godot to the stage, knew it not as a performance but as a state of life. As if life has never been so flowery.

The concept of waiting forms the basis of this work. Vladimir and Estragon, the two main characters of the story, wait for Godot. We will never really know who Godot is. But Vladimir believes that Godot will save them or if they let go of their waiting, they will see punishment. Although Beckett denied the similarity between the word "Godot" and "God", on the other hand, Beckett in his play suggests to the reader that he look at his work from the perspective of divinity. The concept of waiting also plays a key role in Christian theology. After the crucifixion of Jesus Christ (PBUH), Christians waited for the kingdom of God. With Christianity, the earth became a temporary abode and Christians became strangers in this two-worldly world; until the day when God enters history and ends it. This anxiety of waiting can be clearly seen in a hidden way in part of the First Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians:

"I tell you, brothers, the time is short. From now on, those who have wives should live as if they had none; those who mourn, as if they did not; those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away."

First Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians | Chapter 7, Verses 29 to 31

Paul's words have a strange resemblance to what happens in the play. As if the essence of waiting is so crucial for the Christian soul that nothing else can have an abiding value beside it. The waiting person will not be able to take anything seriously; neither his joy, nor his sorrow, nor his property. For him, all these things are meaningless compared to what his eyes are on the way. The waiting person also burdens the time so much that he must be freed from its evil. Vladimir and Estragon, while waiting, try to waste time in any way possible. They start two conversations that do not end and have no meaning. The only thing that remains constant in the middle and connects these conversations to each other is their memory of waiting. Something that makes them vain.

Karl Löwith has interesting remarks on this in his book Meaning in History. In his opinion, until before the advent of Christianity, a Greco-Roman understanding of history prevailed. An understanding that saw history as nature, circulation and decline. In this type of view, history is based on repetition and ultimately there is no place for unprecedented events and special personalities. But with the beginning of Christianity, the circle turns into a cross and the future horizon is expanded. With Christianity, history turns into history of hope and waiting.

Now history has a new beginning and will also come to an end one day. And on that day, Christ will appear again. However, faith in this belief was not without challenge for Christians. The belief that at any moment it is possible for history to end and the world to turn upside down was contradicted by the reality of the indestructible permanence of the earth at any moment. This contradiction tore the Christian human soul in two. The reality of the permanence of the earth on the one hand and the acceptance of the possibility of its disappearance at any moment on the other hand. So the Christian, in fact, found himself forced to land on the earth and not move away from it. He made peace with the world although he did not believe in its permanence. This contradiction between what we believe in and what we do in practice is also seen in the play. When, despite the waiting that Vladimir and Estragon do, Godot does not appear.

Vladimir: Well, shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let's go
[They do not move]

As Nietzsche pointed out, the European mind is going through an era after the death of God. The future horizon was expanded by Christ and he was the one who had an end in mind for it. But today, although the Christian answer to the question of the meaning of history is not acceptable to the European mind, it cannot turn a blind eye to the answer to this question. He, like Vladimir, is forced to ask, "What truth is there in all this?" Whether he wants it or not, for him, the sun of faith, like the stage set by Beckett, has long set. Vladimir is forced to accept that Godot will never come. But without Godot, how will Vladimir and Estragon live? Perhaps the best answer to this question is the one that Beckett once said:

Once more we have failed. But once more
We have failed better

A play populated by two down and out tramp-like characters, a master-slave duo, a little messenger boy and the off-stage Godot – that seems to drive the thing.

Godot has passed into legend. The twentieth century, already half way through when Beckett wrote this, brought about such uncertainty through war and horror and despair especially in Europe. As a result, the relationships between characters, their motivations and especially their language is full of uncertainty.

The dialogue in the play reads at times like a comic vaudeville routine, full of quick-fire exchanges. However, the recorded versions I’ve watched often take an earnest, despairing approach. I'll have to watch more to see what else there is.

The language and characterisations are rich and moving. The character's circumstances are disturbing and at times distressing. But, as the beginning of Murphy states the "sun shone, having no alternative on the nothing new". And when I read Murphy recently, it felt like notes for a greater work.

I have so little to say about Godot, as it seems to speak for itself. After reading it for about the third time, it's upsetting that I have never seen it performed. Instead, I seek out full recorded performances on YouTube. There are a few available, and I recently chose one with Irish actors. Over the years, I've had to hear how a friend's performance at university back in the 80s won reviews in the mainstream press and continued to be considered the best performance in Melbourne to date. I missed it, much to my perpetual annoyance. So, I'll wait.

Perhaps one day, I'll have the opportunity to see Godot performed live on stage and experience the full impact of this remarkable play. Until then, I'll continue to explore the recorded versions and try to gain a deeper understanding of its themes and meanings.

Absurdist plays are plays about nothing and everything, yet there are lovers of finding meaning in them. I have come across interpretations that Godot is God, and all in pairs is "every creature in pairs." I think this is a complete simplification and a search for something that doesn't exist. It seemed to me that Beckett's idea was that even a completely worthless activity like waiting, even waiting for a completely unknown person, can give meaning to life. Didi and Gogo were ready to hang themselves, but day after day they waited, really waited for this Godot. A shepherd boy came, reporting the postponement of the meeting. They sighed with relief. Why were they waiting? What would this meeting bring them? The author doesn't reveal. Most likely nothing at all. In the play, what's important is not who Godot is, but the process of waiting that makes up the being of the heroes, shortening time, since the movement goes in a circle - Pozzo and Lucky pass by, the boy comes to report that Godot won't come today. And so day after day. The episode with turnips, carrots and radishes is remarkable. When the carrot was finished, Vladimir agreed to the turnip. This is a property of human nature - to want more, but if it's not there, then to be satisfied with what is, not to reject what one doesn't like. The pair Pozzo and Lucky, bound by unbreakable rope knots, first personify the oppressor and the oppressed, but at the second appearance, the master and the servant. What does this change mean? Who and for what deprived Pozzo of his sight? Why did Lucky become mute, since in the first act he was talking? Why didn't Lucky free himself from the peg and run away? Why are they always in motion, while the pair Vladimir - Estragon are always passive, standing in place, waiting? Again, everyone interprets it in their own way, and everyone will be right in their own way. Probably, this is a play about life, our life, in which nothing special happens, and life goes in a circle, day after day.

WAITING FOR GODOT IN ANTARCTICA

An audience has gathered to preview a screening of a new and unique version of Samuel Beckett's play. The director has stripped his rendition down to the bare essentials of existential black and white by choosing to film in the desolate Antarctica and using penguins as the actors. The issue of dialogue is cleverly resolved through the technique of voice-over.

In the first act, two penguins are seen standing on the bleak, snow-covered ice. There is a close-up of one penguin, and the voice-over intones, “Nothing to be done.” The camera then slowly pans to the other penguin who waddles next to the first. His voice-over begins, “I’m beginning to come round to that opinion.”

The play continues in this fashion. Occasionally, the two penguins rock back and forth in their stark, empty white world. In the middle of the second act, a third penguin approaches. The two penguins then waddle awkwardly to an icy hill and toboggan on their stomachs down the hill and into the water.

After a soul-searching monologue, the third penguin also toboggans down the hill into the water. At the end of the play, the two original penguins rock back and forth. One penguin says, “Well, shall we go swimming again?” The other penguin replies, “Yes, let’s go.” But the penguins do not move, leaving the audience in a state of contemplation about the nature of waiting and existence.

New Year has arrived, and I've decided to write a few lines about each book I read, especially out of respect for those few people who follow my unposted and unpublished reviews :). And I hope that, like my Facebook posts, when I look back at them after a few years, I don't feel stupid D:

The reality is that I only went to this play because of chips and cheese! After finishing it, I was completely confused. Since I don't insist on necessarily getting a special point from what I read or see, I read the play's reviews and understood what the matter was about.

From this point on, the things I understood through the reviews are as follows:
There is no mention of time and place in the story, so that at the beginning of the story, I thought the characters in the story were soldiers.
The play is in a modern style, and the characters have these characteristics in general: There is no hero in the classical sense. We have no conclusion, the conclusion is open. We are facing a situation with drama called drama.
Beckett talks about addiction to boredom and the sameness over hours and days
And other interesting details that you can read here https://www.google.ca/amp/s/netnevesh...

In the end, I recommend that you first read about the play and then go to it to enjoy it more.

Waiting for Godot still awaits a review. I truly wonder if it will ever materialize. As I am pondering upon the possibility of a review, I find myself also reflecting on whether I liked it or not. In fact, I can't even clearly state that. So, technically speaking,

I am still waiting... for the rating... as well...

It seems as if it is in the stars. I added some for decoration. They are quite meaningless, but those yellow dots manage to please my Scandinavian eyes.

The play is about nothing, really. However, Nothing was already taken by Henry Green - and it was also filled with so much of everything - that Samuel Beckett probably thought he'd wait and see if he could come up with a better title than nothing. While waiting, he gave it a working title, and that's precisely what the play evolved into. The process ultimately became the end product, and the waiting for something transformed into something of its own.

Regarding the characters, they talk, and thus they exist.

One of them poses a question to me:

"Are you ready to write?"

And I respond: "Yes, let's write!"

But yet, I don't make a move.

The renowned playwright Jan Kott once said, “We do [Brecht] when we want Fantasy. When we want Realism, we do Waiting for Godot.” This statement highlights the unique nature of Beckett's play. In 1953, in Paris, “En Attendant Godot” was staged. The play features characters like Vladimir and Estragon, two miserably-looking tramps who wait for Godot. The setting is minimal, with just a (dead?) leafless tree, and no clear spatial-temporal coordinates.

They discuss bible quotes and other memories while waiting. Pozzo, a finely dressed character, shows up with his human “mule” Lucky. Pozzo speaks to Lucky in a master-to-slave way, but later Lucky shows that he can think. Hats play an interesting role in the play, as Estragon often confers with his Chaplin-hat and Lucky collapses without his hat. A boy finally shows up with the news that Godot will come tomorrow, but night has arrived and the wretched couple decides to leave, yet they keep sitting.

Actor Ian Mc Kellen commented that the characters are survivors and the play is very real, hinting at its existential side. I find the play funny yet absurd, with possible French influence in the names due to Beckett's presence in France during WWII. We are all waiting in a certain way, but maybe nobody knows exactly what for. Unless, of course, you're a trader.

What happened?

Nothing happened.

Why did nothing happen?

How would I know?

You would know.

I would?

Yes.

How I would know?

Because you read it.

Did I?

Yes.

How do you know?

It is on your shelf.

So?

You rated it.

What does it mean?

It means you have read it.

Oh I have.

So what happened?

Nothing happened.

Why did nothing happen?

Because they were waiting for Godot.

"Waiting" and "nothing" – these two words hold a certain allure. I could play with them, combining them in countless ways as per the rules of probability, attempting to craft a "review" that teeters on the brink of meaninglessness and yet holds a strange significance. I could delve into the elusive symbolism of the text like a shrewd hermeneut, but my convoluted exegesis might only lead to greater frustration. Or, like a blurb-writer, I could summarize the four-and-a-half characters, the stark landscape, the leafless tree, the role of the taut rope and jangling bucket, and the heap of nonsense. But what would that really accomplish?

Suffice it to say that the rapid-fire dialogue in "Waiting for Godot" makes you want to slow down and search for something unusual happening between the lines. However, nothing seems to happen. Or perhaps everything does? You can view it from numerous angles, and it adapts to your perspective. You can assign any meaning to the memorable symbolism, and it will assist you in understanding that meaning. You can hypothesize freely, and the text will support you in proving it.

Beckett, with his brilliant minimalist style, paints a powerful image of an agitated self, a helpless being, a lonely traveller, engaged in an eternal yet meaningless wait. This is what life ultimately is, until we take that final leap into oblivion. The act of waiting, which is an act of life, is given a comic dimension in the play. By the end, the reader becomes one with the characters, waiting for things to occur, for something to happen. But nothing ever does. And yet, life goes on.

I firmly believe that it is impossible to review "Waiting for Godot" adequately, not even after a long and thorough analysis. This is because, in this case, one would be searching for directions where none exist.

The best review of the play is, perhaps, the one that remains unwritten.

February '15

Definitely not for everybody but by God (if he shows up) it's brilliant. But I wouldn't blame anyone for disagreeing with me.

Still it's more accessible than you might think. A student who studied this play with me in one of my university classes had the assignment of memorizing the quite surrealistic Lucky and Potzo monologue.

The problem was she was a single mother and between that and her manager's job at the local Lotta-Burger she didn't have much time for home study. Her solution? She gave a copy of the monologue to all of her co-workers - the cooks, counter workers, take-out window people etc - and assigned them all to help her practice it during work hours.

The results, which I witnessed myself, were hilarious. Cook and manager and counter folks all shouting 'Quaw', 'Quaw', etc over their shoulders at each other while they waited on customers. They all ended up having a great time and loving the play. In fact, they renamed it in a fashion I'm sure Mr. Beckett would have appreciated: "Waiting for 'To Go'".

This shows that even a complex and seemingly inaccessible play can be made enjoyable and engaging in unexpected ways. It also highlights the power of community and collaboration in making the learning process more fun and memorable.

I don't have a penchant for reviewing classics, and this instance is no different. In fact, I must emphasize that I really can't fathom why this is regarded as a classic.

It is, for the most part, pointlessly extreme and not especially engaging.

The message seems to be forcefully shoved in your face, and I have the impression that it would have been more effective in the form of a short story or some other format. I find it hard to envision anyone being able to relish it as a production.

Perhaps it's because my personal tastes don't align with what is considered classic in this particular case. Or maybe I'm simply missing something that others see as its redeeming qualities. Nevertheless, based on my initial impression, I struggle to understand the acclaim it has received.

Maybe with further examination and a more open mind, I might be able to appreciate it more. But for now, I remain skeptical.

One of the prompts for my current reading challenge is “a book you started but never finished”. Among the three books on my DNF (Did Not Finish) list, Waiting for Godot was the shortest. So here we are.

Listening to it on audiobook was a bit more bearable than my previous attempt with a printed edition. However, I guess I'm still just not smart enough to get it.

It's kind of like an even more irritating Groundhog's Day. That movie remains one of the only films I've ever walked out of the theater on. So I suppose I'm nothing if not consistent in my inability to fully engage with such works.

I keep wondering if it's me or if these creations are just too avant-garde or difficult to understand. Maybe I need to give them more time and effort, or perhaps they're simply not meant for me.

Despite my struggles with Waiting for Godot, I'm still determined to keep trying different books and see if I can find ones that truly resonate with me.

As a pretentious senior in high school, I fancied myself as uber-sheik and decided to take a girl I had a crush on to a play, Waiting for Godot. I had read this play in the Comedy, Wit, and Satire English elective the previous year with my favorite high school English teacher, Dr. Stone.

How I got the tickets isn't really important (alright, my dad won them from the radio, which kind of deflated my uber-sheik persona). Suffice it to say, my crush and I were the youngest in the crowd. Luckily for me, my crush was also a bit pretentious (though not nearly as much as I was), so the evening wasn't a total disaster.

About fifteen minutes into the show, my memory finally overcame my hormones and I recalled what Waiting for Godot actually is: a philosophical piece more suited for post-show discussion than immediate enjoyment. I silently scolded myself. After all, how could I make a move during Waiting for Godot? I mean, it was WAITING FOR GODOT, for crying out loud! There isn't a single female role in the entire play, and the closest thing to a romantic relationship is between the two lead male characters, Vladimir and Estragon, who bicker, joke, hug, and so on as if they were a married couple. Oh well, no romance for me that evening, but at least I maintained my cool, uber-sheik persona.

Well, I guess "cool" is a subjective term.

In any case, in the years since my failed date, I have come to truly appreciate Godot. The play is almost literally about nothing (preceding Seinfeld by several decades) as it shows the two men mentioned earlier just sitting (or standing, or dancing, etc.) around waiting for a man named Godot (who, incidentally, never arrives). Other characters show up from time to time, but that's about it for the main action. So how has this been interpreted in so many different ways?

Well, you could say it's the lack of action that speaks to us. Or perhaps it's simply the quirky, wordy dialogue. Or maybe it's the complex, desperate characterization. Or it could also be its minimalist approach to theater. Or, surely, it's a combination of all these things. Whatever it is, political, social, cultural, Freudian, Jungian, existentialist, Biblical, and even gay theorists have all written volumes about what Godot means, or if it means anything at all, or if that even matters. I like that about works of literature like this: you can't pin down any "meaning" in one place (as you ostensibly can with, say, The Chronicles of Narnia). Not only does it keep you, the reader (or audience member), thinking long after the work is over, but it ensures the author some measure of immortality. It's like James Joyce once said (and incidentally, Joyce employed Beckett as his personal secretary for a time): “I've put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it [Ulysses] will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that's the only way of insuring one's immortality.”

A girl I used to work with tried to convince me that "Godot" is pronounced "God-ott." Despite my protests that Beckett had originally written the play in French, which would mean "Godot" would be pronounced with the French -ot ending as "oh," she vehemently declared that it was "God-ott," which she learned from her favorite theater professor, who had supposedly heard this from Beckett himself while they were sharing a drink in a bar. Whatever. I guess this just proves my point that just about everything in this play is open to interpretation, whether it's the overall meaning or the simple pronunciation of a word.

But still, it's "God-oh."