We are no longer alone, waiting for ‎the night, waiting for Godot, waiting ‎for… waiting.

كل شيء هنا يتافر ليعطيك نتيجة واحدة ‏
لا خلاص
لا خلاص من أي نوع
إنك محاصر.. مقيد.. لا تستطيع الهرب
فأنت أصلا لا تستطيع الحركة
دماغك محصور بأفكار معينة
تقيدك قبل أن تسمح لك بالتمعن فيما حولك
لتدرك أنك عاجز عن التحكم بأبسط أمور حياتك‏
كما بأكثرها تعقيدا
لا خلاص

حتى الانتحار.. مستحيل

:::::::::::

كلنا ننتظر جودو
الشخصيات
الجمهور
القراء
وحتى الكاتب نفسه
لا يزال ينتظر
عالما وعالمين جميعا أنه انتظار بلا طائل
إنه تعزيز أكبر للاشيء ‏
اللاأمل و اللايأس ‏
المكوث على حافة الحياة ‏
اللامجهول والذي هو مع ذلك مؤلم وفاجع‏

ونحن لا نعرف جودو ‏
لا نعرف عنه شيئًا
لا نعرف سبب انتظارهم له
ولكننا لا نفتأ ننتظر
فما تفعله الشخصيات هو بدون غاية
بالضبط كما نفعل نحن
كما يفعل جميع البشر ‏
هراء نسبح بداخله جميعا
وإحباط يسيطر على كل خطوة يخطوها بشري عبر التاريخ‏
عدم وفراغ

:::::::::::

جمال المسرحية يكمن في أنها تلقى في أنفسنا بعد عقود نفس ‏الصدى ‏
بينما وجهت أساسا لجيل تعذب بويلات الحرب
من خراب وفوضى
لتسمو فوق الخاص
وتشمل الانسان الحائر بمعناه الأعم والأشمل

:::::::::::

‏"إستراجون على الأرض.. ينتمي للحجر‏
‏ فلاديمير هو الضوء.. يتجه للسماء"‏

‏ إستراجون وفلاديمير هما بطلا المسرحية الرئيسيين‏
يمثلان الانسان بوجهيه
الجسد والعقل‏
إستراجون مهووس بحذائه
بينما نجد فلاديمير مهووسا بقبعته

إستراجون "منشغل بالجسمانية.. بالأرض"‏
بينما يفكر فلاديمير
"وهو من "يتأمل طبيعة الزمن

ولكن إلام أوصلته دماغه
وإلى أين ذهبت به أفكاره
لل لاشيء
فهو من يذكر إستراجون في نهاية المسرحية
بأنهما هنا في انتظار الذي لا يأتي

:::::::::::

‏ ‏يحيلنا بيكيت كذلك إلى فكرة الاستعباد
فشخصية لاكي تبدو مضطهدة أمام استبداد بوزو
الديكتاتور الإقطاعي الذي يتمتع بتعذيبه لشخص مسكين
لا يملك عن نفسه دفاعا
في أحيان كثيرة كنت أشعر أن الحبل الذي يجره بوزو به من رقبته
يمتد ليلتف حول رقبتي أنا



:::::::::::

تمضي المسرحية ما بين صمت كصمت القبور
وثرثرة خاوية لا طائل منها
تكرار الجمل.. وعقم الحوار
وعبثيته تلك هي جزء من الفوضى الكبرى التي تهدد البشر‏
لتقضي عليهم دون أن يستطيعون منها فكاكا
كل شيء مصاب بالخلل
الخوف والاضطراب يسيطر على الجميع
والملل ينهي كل ما تبقى من أمل

:::::::::::

أنتم يا من نتنظرون اللاشيء
توقفوا عن الانتظار
سئمنا استسلامكم للعدم
وتمسككم بكل خيط واه سرعان ما ينقطع

توقفوا عن الانتظار
لن ياتي
لن يأتي
..

n  n    Book Reviewn  n
t4 out of 5 stars to Waiting for Godot, written in 1952 by Samuel Beckett. Mankind in general is made up of both passive and active people. In Samuel Beckett’s absurdist play Waiting for Godot, there are four characters who can be directly compared to universal mankind. Estragon and Vladimir are considered passive people because they sit back and let life pass them by, unlike Pozzo and Lucky, who are active people because they live new adventures from day to day. Samuel Beckett’s play is a direct commentary on universal mankind and shows that the world is made up of “couch potatoes” and “Energizer bunnies” who have distinct differences.

tEstragon and Vladimir are the passive people and could be considered the “couch potatoes” of today’s world. They sit around and do the same things day-in and day-out. “Couch potatoes” get up, watch TV, sleep, watch TV, eat, and rarely expend any energy. Estragon and Vladimir have daily rituals of removing boots, eating carrots, waiting for Godot, talking of beatings, and forgetting what they did the day before. Both “couch potatoes” and Beckett’s characters do absolutely nothing and as a result, the days run into each other with no boundaries. There is confusion and chaos everywhere. Throughout his play, Samuel Beckett’s characters portray elements of mankind who do nothing and live in a world of inaction and laziness. They are passive like Estragon and Vladimir.

tHowever, Pozzo and Lucky show the active elements of universal mankind. They could be considered the “Energizer bunnies” of today’s world. Lucky runs around, foams at the mouth, recites incomprehensible speeches, and carries his master around subserviently like a true slave. From day to day they visit new places and meet with Estragon and Vladimir in different atmospheres. Pozzo also is very active like an “Energizer bunny." He, as well as Lucky, “keep on licking and never take a licking.” Together they are constantly on the move from new place to new place. Similar to the real people of the world, Pozzo and Lucky are active. The active people will hop a plane to Paris one day and the next be swimming in Sydney, Australia. They live new adventures daily like Pozzo and Lucky. The characters in Samuel Beckett’s play are directly related to universal mankind who at times can be an active people.

n  n    About Men  n
For those new to me or my reviews... here's the scoop: I read A LOT. I write A LOT. And now I blog A LOT. First the book review goes on Goodreads, and then I send it on over to my WordPress blog at https://thisismytruthnow.com, where you'll also find TV & Film reviews, the revealing and introspective 365 Daily Challenge and lots of blogging about places I've visited all over the world. And you can find all my social media profiles to get the details on the who/what/when/where and my pictures. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Vote in the poll and ratings. Thanks for stopping by.

Brilliant. Absurd. Profound.

Hilarity amidst Existential Absurdity! Leaves you scratching your head, giggling and marvelling at the genius of the author.

It was moving and amusing! It makes one question the nature of reality, purpose of life, and the apparent futility of existence.

Two friends Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) are stuck in an endless cycle of waiting for “Godot”, who is going to save them from all their troubles (Blind Date with Godot — will Godot show up? ). Their interactions are humourous, touching, witty, heartbreaking, and profound!

ESTRAGON: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

Their friendship was heartwarming, and amidst a seemingly bleak plot gave feeling of hope, warmth and tenderness. It showed that their bond transcended the futility of their situation.

The author masterfully keeps the reader swinging between two states, existential despair and slapstick humour.

Sometimes, the impact of a single, well-crafted play can surpass the weight of an entire library of long-winded pages.

Side note: Last line also applies to certain other plays as well; ‘Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?’ particularly comes to mind!

Nothing happens in the play,but it is a true classic of the absurd and it stays in memory.There is no dramatic conflict,action or emotion.It is about boredom,and yet it is not boring.

It is a tragi-comedy,and is open to several interpretations.It puzzles,it could be a picture of human attempts to get through life,or it could be a reference to the pointlessness of life.

Whatever it is,it is brilliant.

TERESA - Estou perdida, Samuel. Não sei como interpretar esta peça. Ajuda-me.

SAMUEL - Diz-me o que viste...

TERESA - Um cenário numa estrada, junto de uma árvore, ao anoitecer;
As personagens: Estragon, Vladimir, Lucky, Pozzo, um Menino,...

SAMUEL - E que fazem?

TERESA - Representam a Condição Humana.
"Dão à luz montados num túmulo, o dia brilha por um instante, e depois fica outra vez noite."

SAMUEL - Tens a certeza?

TERESA - Não. Mas senti. Fazes-me rir e chorar, Samuel.

SAMUEL - Se não queres sentir, porque lês? Porque lês tragicomédias?

TERESA - Queria conhecer-te...

SAMUEL - Conseguiste?

TERESA - Não sei. Diz-me... (quase enlouqueço com os significados que julgo encontrar...)

SAMUEL - Quem são Gogo e Didi?

TERESA - Estragon e Vladimir, são dois vagabundos que apenas têm a sua amizade. E um cinto para se enforcarem...mas não podem porque esperam Godot.
"Amanhã enforcamo-nos. A não ser que venha Godot."
Ou serei eu? Ou serás Tu?

SAMUEL - Quem são Lucky e Pozzo?

TERESA - Lucky tem uma corda no pescoço que é puxada por Pozzo. Um é o escravo, outro o seu dono. Qual é qual?

SAMUEL - Godot?

TERESA - A Esperança?


SAMUEL - "Então? Vamos embora?"
TERESA - "Vamos."

Afinal Quem É Godot ?


Hoje: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore conversam sobre isto e aquilo ( cenouras, nabos, vozes do além, suicídio, bíblia ...)
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!

Amanhã: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore retomam os seus diálogos absurdos...
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!

Depois de Amanhã: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore prosseguem com as suas habituais conversas desconexas...
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!

....................

Se cada dia, Vladimir e Estragon se sentam no mesmo local entabulando conversas absurdas, alegando que esperam por um Godot que nunca viram antes, que não sabem se irá lá ter, nem tão pouco em que dia virá, quem esperam eles afinal?...

O que vejo aqui é uma simulação da vida como uma repetição absurda de cada dia que redunda numa espera contínua pela morte.
Confesso que já vi tratar a Morte por muitos nomes, mas Godot... Godot é a primeira vez!
Contudo, considero ser um excelente nome para caracterizar aqueles dias de intensa abulia:

- Então que fazes?
- Não faço nada — estou à espera de Godot!...

“Let's go."
"We can't."
"Why not?"
"We're waiting for Godot.”

Samuel Beckett, though known for being one of the bleakest writers ever, was a big fan of American film comedians, including the sadsack Buster Keaton. Here’s a short film, 21 minutes long, “the Goat:” (Oh, come on, just look at it for a minute!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6kE2...

And here's another short film where Keaton and Beckett collaborated! (Thanks, Ean!):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjdXi...

but also Laurel and Hardy, who I have always thought were a kind of model for the hapless and lovable Didi and Gogo. Here’s a 20-minute L&H film, “Helpmates” (1932) in case you had never heard of them or doubt there is a connection: (see above, watch a minute, and I also note there's a new film based on them just released)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YPhY...

And there also is a hat exchange scene in the play that almost surely owes something to the famous Marx Brothers' “mirror scene” which, if you haven’t seen it, takes 3:21 to see some genius old-time comedy:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_fmU...

Oh, the play, you ask? One of the classics of world literature, probably the single text that earned him the Nobel Prize in Literature, a play that he calls a tragi-comedy, and it does seem to ride on that razor edge between comedy and tragedy. Written in 1948, just three years after the end of WWII, with bombed cities all around (as now in Ukraine) it features two tramps, Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) who mainly just, yup, sit around and wait for Godot. And talk with each other.

“They also serve who only stand and wait” (Milton)? Maybe, but in this play it is not clear who Godot is, or why they are waiting for him. Some speculate Godot is really God, but Beckett denied this, said he had no idea why people would think that, and I may just believe him. There is some discussion of religion in the play, though, as a way people try to make sense of the world.

The setting is spare, with a single bare tree on the set. What do they do? They mainly talk to pass the time:

“Words, words, words. . .”

And I like the playfulness:

Yes, let’s abuse each other!
Moron!
Vermin!
Abortion!
Morpion!
Sewer-rat!
Curate!
Cretin!
Critic!
Oh!
He wilts, vanquished, and turns away.
Well, that passed the time.
It was passing, anyway.
But it made it pass more quickly.

So they converse. They are friends, and they pluckily support each other in their poverty and bleak circumstances. They also meet Pozzo and his slave, Lucky, where we see a contrast to their supportive relationship, a power relationship, one of cruelty. An allegory of choices for us? Fascism vs. the Allied Forces that defeated it? Maybe! But Gogo and Didi persist and prevail, together. Not much happens, but they present an image of steadfastness in the face of serious challenges. Inspirational, I say. Or, since they only wait, and do not leave, it could be seen as hopeless, as a kind of nihilist stasis! Dystopian allegory, a precursor to Cormac McCarthy's father-son story, The Road?

One thing the play is about, I think, is how they got to this dystopian desert of a place. One thing it is about is language, which we sometimes see as the flower of humankind, yet in all its glory it did not help us prevent the Holocaust. Another thing the play is about is rationality, or thinking, the very foundation of science and technological accomplishment, that also did not prevent Nagasaki and Hiroshima. And so Beckett makes absurd fun at times here of this much-revered human process, thinking, and what it (in 1948) has amounted to, in part demonstrated in Lucky’s unpunctuated stream-of-consciousness soliloquy, which it turns out is absurd.

But this play finally presents two equally possible directions for humankind:

Hope: “Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. . . To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!”

Or despair: “Nothing to be done.”

Does Beckett choose? Does he make a final judgement? Have we descended as a human race into evil, at last? Here he seems to say it could go either way: “The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors.”

More fascist tendencies now, climate apocalypse, millions of refugees in increasing numbers and desperation, Putin and all the insane political extremism everywhere, and so on. You decide. Because you need to decide to act and not just talk. Or maybe you just ignore everything and keep doing what you do, in a kind of paralysis.

Though I personally think he does finally choose hope, in the very image of friends Didi and Gogo.

[4.6⭐]

We are waiting for the main problem of the two beggars. We are waiting for what will never come: a Godot! We wait in vain while sinking into a minimalist decor: a forest, a tree, a rope. Minimalism hides the absurdity of our life, where only emptiness suffocates us. To breathe again, we furnish this void with actions to break this monotony.
Estragon: What is certain is that time is extended, under these conditions, and pushes us to furnish it with actions [...] (Page 104)
So there you have it, waiting perhaps hope, but above all, it is a constraint against all freedom, all liberation.
The expectation is hope, but above all, it is masochism.

اگر قراره که مثل اینستا همه فقط لایک کنیم همدیگرو و بگذریم پس چرا تو گودریدزیم؟!
برگردیم اینستا فضاشم قشنگتر هست دیگه! این همه ریویو بدون کامنت و بحث. و بدون کوچکترین توجهی از طرف حضار.
برای خودم نمیگم، چون اصولا ریویو قابل بحثی نمینویسم.
منتها این فضای تعداد دوست و فالور زیاد و توجه نکردن به متن‌ها جالب نیست برام.
ترجیح میدم با یه تعداد کمتر از دوستان در اینجا، بحث و گفتگوی بیشتری در جریان باشه..



اینم برای در انتظار گودو:
اینکه میخوای پوچی و تکرار و ملال زندگی رو به تصویر بکشی اکیه! ولی دلیل نمیشه که فقط به همین دلیل که سیاهی و تلخی رو داری میگی امتیاز بالایی بگیری :D
من لذت نبردم. ترجیح میدم خارج از این فرم تکرار و دیالوگهای بی معنا، پوچی زندگی رو درک کنم. میدونم که این فرم خودش انتخاب هوشمندانه ای بوده از طرف بکت، ولی خب باز هم باعث نمیشه که من بگم لذت بردم. مطابق سلیقه من نبود.

عبثية الإنتظار وعدمية المعنى..

يصوغ بيكيت عملية إنتظار اللاشئ، بينما تجري الحياة على ساق معوجة وطرق غائرة وساخرة، يبقى الإنتظار هو الوسيلة الوحيدة للبقاء لتأمل الذي لن يأتي، بعبارة أخرى إنتظار لأنتظارات أخرى في حين أن العدم قد إفتك أصلاً بالإنتظار الأول الذي ربما لن يأتي أبداً..


حلقات ضيقة في فراغ عدمي حافل بأمل لعين، يعشيه ذلك الأبله الذي يحاول أن يقنع نفسه أن الإنتظار والأمل خير من اليأس ، سيأتي اليوم ويلحقه الآخر ويتبعه التالي ويترادف التشابه في كل شئ، المعنى والشكل وحتى المضمون ، الإنتظار لا يبطئ مرور الأيام فحسب بل يطمر حتى اليقين بدهشة فعل الإنتظار والترقب لذلك اللأشئ، يمنح الجنون أيضاً واللاوعي ويزحف في دروب اليقينات الكاذبة..


مسرحية تحكي بصورة مستفزة العبث التناقض الحصري في شخصية الإنسان، يحكي عن ذلك الفعل الإنساني الذي لا يخلو منه لحضة من تاريخ الإنسان إلا هو غارق فيها، كما يصفها بيكيت بأنها تبدأ منذ مأساة الولادة، محاولة الخلاص منها مستحيلة ومرهقة أيضاً .. حتى محاولة الفناء كما يصورها في إحدى المشاهد متعلقة بالإنتظار أيضاً ..




- ماذا تفعل؟
- أنتظر
- وماذا تنتظر؟
- جودو
- وهل سيأتي جودو؟
- لا أعلم!!
-ومن هو جودو، هل تعرفه ياسيدي؟
- كلا...
- ومنذ متى تنتظر؟
- لا أعلم!!




كل شى هنا غارق في العدمية والفراغ اللعينين ، تحويل العدمية الى معنى ساخر يسقط فيه القارئ سقوطاً مدوياً من حيث لا يدري.. حقيقة مثل هذه المسرحيات والروايات التي تتعلق بهذه المعاني يصيبني منها شعور سيء ويتعكر بها مزاجي، أدرك حينها تماماً أن الكاتب قد أوصل رسالته على أكمل وجه..

سأحتاج لوقت لا بأس به للتعافي من هذا الشعور المقيت والفراغ اللامتناهي.. والله لا أدري حتى لمّ قيمتها بـ خمس نجمات!! إذهب الى الجحيم سيد بيكيت..

“Faith”, she said. “You must have faith in something. It is necessary.”

These are the exact words as said to me by a colleague a few days back. Faith. I smiled. I knew I couldn't go ahead and say anything which might upset her. I had seen that urgency in her eyes, with which she seemed to be guarding her words. Watching, lest, she might encounter something unpleasant.

By ‘Faith’ she definitely did mean God.

The conversation brought to my mind the question I have kept asking myself. It has been a search rather. Search for something I can believe in. Ah, yes, I do have people around, loving and caring. Family. I believe in the relationships. It is necessary. But the search, search is for something higher. Something I still can’t understand. Something I wish to put my “Faith” into, like I had before. It is perhaps a ‘wait’. I am waiting for the truth I need to see and believe.

But wait, ‘what’ truth do I need to see and believe? Wouldn't it be the truth which must better suit me? Which might go well down inside me? But what if I don’t like what I find? What will I do then?

Well, then perhaps I will keep waiting.

I am not sure whether through this play Beckett intended to illustrate religious or philosophical inference. I read somewhere that he refuted such claims. But I liked it because it resonated well with what I was pondering upon during the time I read it.

You surely send a shiver down my spine Beckett, but I love you all the more for that.