"VLADIMIR: Es difícil convivir contigo, Gogo.
ESTRAGON: Sería mejor que nos separáramos.
VLADIMIR: Siempre dices lo mismo. Y siempre vuelves".

4.5

Jamás hubiera pensado que una obra de teatro me iba a gustar tanto.

ACT III

VLADIMIR: They've called us back.

ESTRAGON: For an encore?

VLADIMIR: No, we're supposed to say what it means.

[A pause]

ESTRAGON: What what means?

VLADIMIR: This play! We have to explain it.

ESTRAGON: And then?

VLADIMIR: [discouraged] I don't know. Maybe Godot will arrive. But again, maybe he won't. He's not very reliable. [Another pause] Still, we can try.

[They both think deeply]

VLADIMIR: Any ideas yet?

ESTRAGON: My boots don't fit. My feet hurt.

VLADIMIR: [furious] Idiot! This isn't about your boots. We're talking meaning here! Philosophy!

ESTRAGON: Sorry.

[They continue to think. Enter POZZO and LUCKY]

VLADIMIR: Ah! How fortunate. Maybe you can explain the meaning of this play?

POZZO: My sight has been miraculously restored.

VLADIMIR: Oh! Good. But...

POZZO: Lucky!

[LUCKY moves center stage, and begins mumbling in a flat monotone voice]

LUCKY: Man's search for himself in an inhospitable cosmos... absurdity of all human action... black humour... marked by his wartime experiences...

[POZZO punches him, knocking LUCKY down]

LUCKY: [writhing on the ground] ...shifting relationship between the signifier and the signified...

[POZZO continues to kick him savagely]

LUCKY: [gasping] ... différance... impossibility of interpretation... semiotics... encoding... oh fuck!... fuck!... please stop kicking me! I don't know! I don't know!

POZZO: [finally smiling] That's better.

“Estragone - Troviamo sempre qualcosa, vero, Didi, per darci l'impressione di esistere?”


La drammatica inutilità della vita può essere talmente ridicola da provocare tante risate?



Se si assiste a questa pièce o se ne legge il testo, pare proprio che non ci si possa sottrarre al riso mentre Didì (Vladimiro) e Gogo (Estragone) si muovono sulla desertica scena della vita.
Simboli e metafore di fronte all’assurdità esistenziale dove ci si ritrova ad attendere qualcuno che non si conosce e che non arriverà mai mentre Pozzo e Lucky ci rappresentano così bene un mondo fatto di oppressi ed oppressori, di cecità e silenzi.
Beckett era avverso ad ogni analisi del testo e facilmente si intuisce che ognuno potrebbe avere una sua versione che sia speculare al proprio e personale vocabolario con cui traduce gli enigmi della vita.
Visto a teatro un paio di volte non perde mordente neppure con la solitaria lettura del testo.
La spoglia scenografia è stampata nella mia mente: una tenda che impedisce di vedere un orizzonte, un alberello spoglio e tanto esile a cui non ci si può neppure impiccare.

Un’opera geniale che riesce a condensare tutto il malessere dell’Uomo non a caso così sensibilmente avvertito in quegli anni a ridosso della Seconda Grande Carneficina.

*****************
Vladimiro. È difficile vivere con te, Gogo.
Estragone. Sarebbe meglio lasciarci.
Vladimiro. Dici sempre così. E ogni volta ritorni. (Silenzio).
Estragone. A voler fare le cose per bene, bisognerebbe ammazzarmi, come quell'altro.
Vladimiro. Che altro? (Pausa). Che altro?
Estragone. Come milioni di altri.
Vladimiro (sentenzioso). A ciascuno la sua piccola croce. (Sospira) Durante il piccolo oggi e il breve domani.
Estragone. E mentre aspettiamo, cerchiamo di conversare senza montarci la testa, visto che siamo incapaci di star zitti.
Vladimiro. È vero, siamo inesauribili.
Estragone. Lo facciamo per non pensare.
Vladimiro. Abbiamo delle attenuanti.
Estragone. Lo facciamo per non sentire.
Vladimiro. Abbiamo le nostre ragioni.

از وقتی مطالعه‌‌ی کتاب رو شروع کردم دنبالِ یه مفهوم میگشتم برای درک‌کردن، فهمیدن و خب اصلی‌ترین مشکل همین بود
چون
بنیان و پایه‌ی نمایشنامه‌‌ی گودو هیچ‌گراییه، بی‌معناییه یا بهتره بگم درکِ چیزاییه که اکثراً در زندگی‌هامون می‌بینیم، تجربه می‌کنیم و باهاش درگیریم.
معمولاً درک عمیق از چیزایی که مدت زیادیه باهاشون مواجه‌ایم سخت‌تره از چیزایی که برامون تازگی دارن. مثل: در انتظار بودن برای چیزی، کسی یا اتفاقی که درموردش مطمئن نیستیم، رنجِ وجود داشتن، روزمرگی‌ها و تکراری‌شدنِ روندِ زندگی‌هامون.

از پس‌گفتار مترجم:
-انسان نمیتواند به هیچ دلبسته باشد، نمیتواند به هیچ تکیه دهد، نمیتواند به هیچ ایمان بیاورد، نمیتواند به هیچ گردن گذارد.

پ.ن: اگر قسمتِ از چشم بکت-ترجمه‌ی آقای رستگار نبود، به درک درستی نمیرسیدم، واقعا لازم و قوی بود.

Oh boy. I have known this one was coming up, so let’s get it out of the way.

2014 – a year in which, Goodreads is kind enough to let me know, I rated Waiting for Godot 1 star, some time around April or May. I was finishing up my final year in high school. 3 years prior, I had reluctantly selected “Drama” as a course, as Canadian high schools require that you complete an art/music/drama credit in your four years. Fine, I thought. We need to finish this and never look back. 3 years later, I was still in drama, loving it every step of the way. I was a “drama kid”, and about to be given my final project of my final year. Along came Samuel Beckett.

My friend and I were to be Vladimir and Estragon, and we had to perform about 15-20 minutes of this “play”. Off you go then! I remember feeling nervous. My grades were important just then – I needed to maintain a certain average for university, and drama was an important contributor to this average. Godot was to be responsible for a sizeable chunk of my final mark. As my partner and I read through the piece, our anxiety turned into fear. As the weeks passed, the fear turned into sheer terror. “Didi” and “Gogo”, our beloved main characters, would go back and forth, spewing “literal nonsense” (as we were fond of calling it then). How were we to remember the specific number of “Adieu”s that they uttered? How would we stage the random back and forth movement of the two? It was hard to anchor our lines and cues to specific storylines. There were no stories within this play. Quite literally, nothing happens. How would we situate ourselves?

Well, we finally did it. We performed it. I do not remember who I was – that is how much of a muddle that day is for me. Was I Didi, consoling Gogo’s sudden passions and rages? Was I Gogo, always shooting down Didi’s Biblical screeds? Who knows anymore. But I did forget my lines. As did my friend. Together. In the same instance. And the improv that happened was so absurd that no one, I am sure, was able to tell that anything was amiss (our teacher not withstanding). After all, the show must go on. I got my acceptable grade, threw the middle finger at Beckett, and never looked at my copy of the book again. 1 star, ya bastard!

Now, I look back and smile. 1 to 5 in 7 years is a pretty seismic shift. Part of the reason why it is so difficult to put my love for the book into words is due to inexperience on my part, but also due to Beckett’s refusal to comment on interpretations of his work. I find myself wanting to pepper the word “existential” into the review. It is that. Here you will find commentary (at least, I personally think) on the meaning of life, the lack of meaning in life, the question of suicide, engagement with one’s environment, the passing of time, the Other as the saviour and the devil, relationships as a means of staving off the void, relationships as the abyss in and of themselves, and ultimately, Being as opposed to not.

Should I have been expected to know this in 2014? I don’t believe so… maybe? I was not in a state of mind to give anything a fair go and open interpretation. But this is one I will be reading for years to come.

P.S. One of my biggest regrets in life is having been unable to see the Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart adaptation of this play at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. Oh well. Life goes on. Or does it? We go on. You go on. Go on? What does that mean? I am leaving.

Alan remains seated.

"Well? What do we do?"
"Don't let's do anything. It's safer."
"Let's wait and see what he says."
"Who?"
"Godot. You'd make me laugh if it wasn't prohibited."
"We've lost our rights?"
"We got rid of them."

This bizarre and unsettling play is about life, death, hope and loss of hope. We always search for a meaning for our existence. Sometimes we find what we are looking for, but often we are left wanting and waiting. Waiting for the unreachable. It is morning, the sun is shining, there is yet hope for us. We wait...for something or someone to diminish this boredom and loneliness, to give some meaning to what we call "life". We wait. The night falls. Everywhere is dark. There is nothing, everything is dead but a tree. We decide to end it all. But there is no rope to hang ourselves with! What if we wake up tomorrow and wait some more; hope some more? What if tomorrow would be different? If not, we can always bring a piece of rope with us the next time we go to the tree.

“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 – I could take these two words and use them in as many combinations as the rules of probability allow to create a ‘review’ that would be as much meaningful as it would be meaningless. I could draw upon the elusive symbolism of the text in the manner of a perspicacious hermeneut whose convoluted exegesis would only serve to frustrate him even more. Or like a blurb-writer I could summarise the four-and-a-half characters, the austere landscape, the leafless tree, the role of the taut rope and jangling bucket, and the heap of nonsense, but what would that achieve?

Suffice it to say that the sheer speed of the bare dialogue makes you want to slow down and look for something queer happening between the lines, but nothing happens. Or perhaps everything happens? You can look at from any number of angles and it adapts itself to your point of view. You can attach any meaning to the memorable symbolism and it helps you comprehend that meaning. You may hypothesize at will and the text will lend you a hand to prove it.

Beckett in his frugal minimalist brilliance paints a powerful imagery of an agitated self, a helpless being, a lonely traveller, in eternal yet meaningless wait, which life ultimately is, till we take the final leap into oblivion. The act of wait, 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 happen, for something to happen, but nothing ever happens. Yet life happens.

I think it's impossible to review Waiting for Godot adequately, not even after a long and thorough analysis, because in that case one would be seeking directions where none exist.

The best review of the play is the one that is not written.

February '15

It seems that in some ways we are all 'waiting for Godot', at least this is the theme that appears to come through Samuel Beckett's classic and acclaimed two act play. Part of the genius of this play is the fact that it was written as an apparent diversion from the prose Beckett had been writing at the time. To be able to sit down and write a play hailed as the greatest of the 20th Century while working on a longer volume is an act of legendary proportions.

The play itself is both minimalist and absurd in varying degrees. It follows two key men, Vladmir and Estragon, as they wait by a tree for a mutual acquaintance - a Mr. Godot. As they wait the men discuss various philosophical, ethical and moral quandaries; they bicker, fight and generally act as all close friends do. Into the scene step Pozzo and Lucky, a master and slave combination who interact with Vladmir and Estragon. It appears Pozzo is on his way to sell Lucky but nothing is made entirely clear in Beckett's play. In fact part of the masterful delivery of Beckett is that ambiguity that he cloaks the play in, making the audience unsure of what exact purpose the play is meant to convey. Indeed, what one can get out of the play will depend on the particular analysis one accepts along with the general sense you receive from the play. Nothing is entirely clear cut in Beckett's play's setting.

There is much made as to the fact that the title of Beckett's play reminds one of 'waiting for God'. This interpretation is one which has gained much traction in mass analysis, and yet Beckett himself indicated that "if by Godot I had meant God I would have said God, not Godot." It appears that, the idea of 'death of the author' criticism has superseded anything that Beckett himself might say about the play. I for one am inclined to believe Beckett, as he first wrote the play in French and as such from all accounts the word 'Godot' has more in common with a particular word for a boot. This interpretation naturally adds to the absurdist nature of the play. At the same time 'Waiting for a Boot' would be a remarkably fitting title as both characters in the play seem to need a figurative kick to move them from the gloomy depression they live their lives in.

This all said it seems difficult to entirely divorce Waiting for Godot from Christianity entirely. Many religious references exist in the play and Beckett was from all understandings a man reasonably well versed in scripture. If this is not a play about waiting upon God it is certainly a play that questions the role of God in a modern world and what mankind's role is. The ultimate underlying assertion appears to be that man is meant to be an active participant in the reality of the world rather than someone who simply waits and hopes that things will improve.

Vladmir: "Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably, but in all that what truth will there be?"

Matthew 25:40 "The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'"

It appears Beckett really aims to convey a sense of individuality in his play. Studying it as a modernist work certainly seems to reveal that as a work of fiction the play seems preoccupied with how narcisistic and aware the characters truly are. In many ways it is an absurd, crazy and bland play. In others it is a play that mirrors modern life by showing readers and viewers two characters who are so preoccupied with themselves that they cannot even comprehend the idea of leaving to help others more in need. In many ways we too are those people, sitting under the same tree every day, contemplating with dark humour whether something like suicide might be fun, and always waiting relentlessly for Godot rather than going out and finding the fellow.

شاید حرفای عمیق و مهمی که تو این نمایشنامه بود تو هزار تا کتاب قطور پیدا نشه و این وقته که میتونی بگی این اثر یه شاهکاره و بی تردید بکت یه نابغست.
`در انتظار گودو` نمایش نمادینی از زندگی همه آدما است که هر کدوم به یک شکل برده ی خواسته هاشون هستن.
هدف ولادمیر رسیدن به گودو بود ،گودویی که هیچ شناختی نسبت بهش نداشت فقط منتظربود تا این منجی از راه برسه و اونو به خوشبختی برسونه.تو این نمایشنامه ولادمیر تنها فردیه که نسبت به گذشته و رفتارش آگاهی داره وشاید نماد یک انسان آگاهه اما این آگاهی هیچ وقت کافی نیست و ولادمیر تنها کاری که میکنه انتظار و انتظاره.حتی وقتی که به ته خط میرسه جرات خودکشی و رهایی نداره.
استراگون شخصیت مادی گرا داستان که تنها از ولادمیر پیروی میکنه و بدون فکرو فهم رفتار میکنه.
پوتزو نماد ثروتمند پول پرست که افرادی مثل لاکی رو تحت سلطه دارند و جالب اینجا بود که لاکی از بردگی خودش رضایت داشت و دوری از اربابش رو دشوار میدونست.شخصیت لاکی به خوبی حقارت انسان های اسیر نشون میده.
همه ما هم مثل این شخصیت ها بر اساس شخصیت و نوع زندگیمون، هدف ها و گودو هایی رو انتخاب میکنیم شاید شناخت درستی هم به اونها نداشته باشیم و ندونیم که با رسیدن به گودو چی نصیبمون میشه و آیا رستگاری واقعی همینه؟
ما برای اینکه گذر زمان و انتظار حس نکنیم خودمو مشغول این دنیا و سرگرمیاش میکنیم غافل ازینکه 'ما لعبتگانیم و فلک لعبت باز'...
هنوز انتظار میکشیم بدون اینکه هدفمونو بشناسیم و یا براش تلاش کنیم.

كم مرة في حياتك أنتظرت؟ كم مرة خاب أملك وأنت مُنتظر؟ كم مرة خاب أملك وأنت مُنتظر ولا زلت مُنتظر أيضاً؟
بإختصار شديد هذه مسرحية عن الإنتظار، وعندما تكون في وسطها وتنتظر أن تنتهي، لن تنتهي وستترك فيك ثورة من الأسئلة!

كُنت أعلم جيداً ما هو مسرح العبث ولي تجربة سابقة معه مع توفيق الحكيم ومسرحية "يا طالع الشجرة" ولكني لم أكن مُحب له ولولا أن هذه المسرحية مُطالب بها خلال دراستي لما فكرت في قراءتها من الأساس.

في هذه المسرحية، التي يملأها الجو الكئيب الأسود الغريب، لا تفهم ماذا يفعلون؟ ماذا يقولون؟ لا منطق في الكلام ولا في أي شيء.. فقط هُراء في هُراء وعندما تشم رائحة كلام جدي وتقول ستكون البداية، تُفاجئ أنه لا شيء.. حتى أنك عندما تصل للنهاية ستجد نفسك مصدوم! أين جودو بحق كُل العبث؟

لقد عبث بك بيكيت جعلك تنتظر جودو أيضاً، جعلك تعيش على وهم أنك فجأة ستفهم كُل المسرحية بوصول هذا المدعو جودو الذي سيُنقذ الجميع بما فيهم أنت.. ولكن عزيزي لا وجود لجودو ولا أحد سيأتي.. وستظل أنت مُنتظر!
من أحدى المشاهد الغريبة والتي سيظل في ذاكرتي لفترة لا بأس بها، عندما قرر العبد "لاكي" أن يُفكر -رغم أنه تم أمره بذلك- ولكن أنظر إلى نص كلامه.. أنظر إلى كمية اللامنطقية والعبث في كلامه.. لن تفهم شيء من الأساس.. ولكن ستجد وسط كلامه شعور بالحزن بالضعف بالقهر.. فهو عبد لسيده بوزو.

أما عن بطلينا الرئيسين فلهما العديد من المواقف العبثية مثل موقف القُبعة والحذاء.. رغم كُل شيء..لقد أحببتهما بطريقة ما.. لماذا؟ لا أعرف.. أنها لامنطقية كُل شيء.

As a pretentious senior in high school, I thought I would uber-sheik and take a girl a had a crush on to a play, Waiting for Godot, which I had read in the Comedy, Wit, and Satire English elective that I took the previous year with my favorite high school English teacher, Dr. Stone. How I got the tickets is inconsequential (okay, okay: my dad won them from the radio; my uber-sheik persona just took a big hit), but suffice to say, my crush and I were the youngest members in the crowd. Fortunately for me, my crush was also somewhat pretentious (though not nearly as much as myself), so the evening was not an entire bust.

About fifteen minutes into the show, my memory finally overpowered my hormones and I remembered what Waiting for Godot actually is: a philosophical piece, more for discussion afterwards than for immediate enjoyment. I silently berated myself; after all, how could I possibly make a move during Wait for Godot? I mean...it was WAITING FOR GODOT, for crying out loud! There is not one female role in the entire play, and the closest thing to a romantic relationship we get is between the two lead male characters, Vladimir and Estragon, who bicker, joke, hug, and so on as though they are a married couple. Oh well, no romance for me that evening, but at the very least, I retained my decidedly cool, uber-sheik persona.

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

In any event, in the years since my botched date, I have come to sincerely appreciate Godot. The play is almost literally about nothing (ahead of Seinfeld by more than a few decades) as it depicts the two men mentioned earlier just sitting (or standing, or dancing, etc.) around as they wait for a man named Godot (who, incidentally, never arrives). Other characters arrive from time to time, but that's about it for the main action. So how has this been interpreted so many different ways?

Well, you could say it is the lack of action that speaks to us. Or perhaps it's simply the kooky, wordy dialogue. Or maybe it's the complex, desperate characterization. Or it could also possibly be its minimalist approach to theater. Or, to be sure, 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 even means anything at all, or if that even matters one way or the other. I like that about works of literature like this: you can't pin any "meaning" down 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 amount 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 rebuttals that Beckett had originally written the play in French--which would mean "Godot" would be pronounced with the French -ot ending as "oh"--she violently proclaimed that it was "God-ott," which she learned from her favorite theater professor, who had supposedly heard this from Beckett himself while they shared a drink in a bar. Whatever. I guess this just goes to prove 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."

Still waiting …..

My experience with this play came in theater, not English lit. We were doing all sorts of off off off Broadway material (like Theater