Waiting for Godot

Rating:
Summary: Nothing Ever Happens. . .
Review: One of the most striking plays written in the 20th century, Samuel Beckett's, "Waiting for Godot," is a must read for any serious student of theater, lover of the theater of the absurd, or those interested in high thought as seen through the eyes of a couple of nobodys.

An absurd play, it is stirring, chilling and unreprentively satirical. The characters even poke fun at the play that they are in as one of the states that, "nothing ever happens," and he is right. Stark and empty, the play has an air of waiting for something to happen. Not only are the main characters, Didi and Gogo (Vladimir and Estragon), waiting for something monumental, but so are the readers.

The potential bleakness of the world that we live in comes to a head in this play where every action hinges on the appearance of Godot, who strikes a resemblence (acording to the players) to God himself.

Beckett was quoted as saying that if he had meant, "God," he would have said "God." Godot, is ambiguous and powerful; as is the play that carries his name.

An excellent, though thick read. The play is dark, and by no means uplifting. By this point in time, "Waiting for Godot," should have been read by everyone. This piece is the center of the theater of the absurd movement, and has been quoted, and been alluted to more often then any play since its writing. It is perhaps only less well read than, "Hamlet," and "Private Lives," by Shakespeare and Coward, respectively.

Rating:
Summary: This one could go either way....
Review: My first comment for this play....it's much more effective when read aloud. We started this play in a theater class at my university and I finished reading it alone. There's a world of difference.

There are so many varied reviews on Waiting for Godot and I must admit it could go either way. This play can be considered symbolic of everything, or symbolic of nothing. Some say that Beckett was trying to portray human loneliness and a search for meaning in the unknown (Godot, aka God). Others say, that's a big assumption and the point of the play was that it had no point at all. Basically it all comes down to your perspective.

There's an age-old question about art....does the "correct" meaning of art come from the intent of its creator or does the meaning come from the impression of the viewer or reader? An example would be the paintings of Georgia O'Keeffe. Critics and historians frequently push the idea that her huge flower paintings are symbolic of human genitalia while O'Keeffe denied that she had any intent to portray that symbolism.

There are about a zillion interpretations of Waiting for Godot and no one will ever agree. While I would say that I wasn't highly entertained by this play, I respect this piece as a classic and one that has sparked controversy. Controversy, after all, is the highest level of flattery.

Rating:
Summary: Let's ask the Buddha
Review: The Buddha stated that part of the human condition is to be an addict, addicted to colours and shapes.

Vald: I have been thinking about what you said, you know about being addicted to colours and shapes, I'm afraid it's complete nonsense. Of course I like a good painting as much as the next man (looks around), but in my opinion only children playing with the crayons and blocks suffer from your complaint !

Buddha: Even a blind man is addicted to colours and shapes. Very well let's undertake a thought experiment and see how the world looks like without these two drugs. (The Buddha takes out a small board with two switches, one marked Colours the other Shapes, he flicks the colour switch to OFF).

Vald: (Looking around his apartment) I see what you mean, the world has got a bit dull, but it has romance, like a Bogart movie, I like the textures and angles with a bit of strength and cleanness and it certainly gets rid of the gaudy yellow the management company painted the place. The sun it white and the clouds a metallic grey, no indecision or deceit. Yes I could live in a world without colour.

The Buddha smiled, (the Buddha always smiles so this tells you nothing) and flicks the shape switch to OFF. Catastrophe - the apartment and everything in it disappears.

Vald: Christ that was dramatic! Everything is gone these is nothing left except this pile of stones and a grey metallic sky. There's light like an overcast winter day, no sign of the sun and a uniform greyness. It looks just like the set of "Waiting for Godo".

Buddha: Isn't it time you went to work?

Vald: God your right, where's the car got to?

Buddha: Your new motor certainly caught the eye, I guess you were hoping to slay a few ladies with its shine and powerful shape, unfortunately in our world it has also disappeared. However if you sit on this rock and move you arm and legs about in the appropriate manner you will eventually get to the office.

Vald does as instructed (the Buddha sneaks off to laugh himself silly).

Vlad: I think I'm moving, but it's hard to tell, everything looks so similar, I looked around for the pile of stones near where the apartment was, but I couldn't find it among all the other piles. Its all very confusing. Hello this must be the office, or what's left of it, I recognise some people. Yes there's the boss, where's his Armani suit ? he seems to have swapped with a beggar.

Buddha: You are being a bit harsh, he clothes are warm if a bit nondescript, like your own.

Vald looks down at his "suit" and frowns.

Vald: Anyway I have important work to do, new plans for the broadband internet you know.

Buddha: The what?

Vald: You know delivering high speed multimedia to the public.

Buddha: You mean high speed colours and shapes.

Vald sits on a stone, looks crushed.

Vald: (Resentfully) well there's text as well, you know - Words.

Buddha: As yes Words, we have them in this world, lots of them in fact. So do you speak these words for the edification of you listeners over the er. Internet ?

Vald: Me ? God no, the creative types do that ! We keep them in the next office. (wanders over to a nearby pile of stones, talks to some people, then runs away)

Vald: They threw rocks at me the bastards ! It turns out that nearly everything the wrote about was colours and shapes, all they have left to write about is "relationships". I said that must be interesting, and they turned nasty.

Buddha: As yes relationships, we have them in this world, lots of them in fact

Vald starts to cry.

Buddha: What's the matter ?

Vlad: I was going to collect my pay, but what's the use ! I was saving for a holiday in the Far East, but what's good is travel if everywhere is the same and everywhere is dull and grey like here ! Without colour and shapes money is worthless.

Buddha: Have a carrot.

Vlad: You wouldn't have a piece of celery, I don't like carrots.

Rating:
Summary: The joke's on you
Review: I find it hilarious that so many reviewers find this play "complicated" or "profound". I have to let them in on the secret: the play is neither complicated nor profound. It is absurd. This play is not about anything in particular (less than, say, Seinfeld which was "about nothing"). A bunch of people hang out on the stage and pass the time in the stupidest way possible: inane banter and stupid games. All is random and pointless, by design.

After I read the play I thought it was utter crap. But now, after I am reading this misguided reviews, I am beginning to think maybe Beckett was on to something. People really do not get it, even when it is spelled out in the very first line of the play ("nothing to do"). This habit of interpretation is so fixated in most people's consciences that they have to grasp at meaning even when it is deliberately removed from context.

This play is the ultimate farce, and the spectators are the ones getting fooled. Actually, this is not even a play, it is an exercise in audience psychology, the dramatic equivalent of ink blots. But why many enjoy being made fools of is beyond my comprehension.

Some say that Beckett "challenges the conventions of theatre", and that in itself should lend some value to the play. No thanks. Flaunting rules and convention is, in itself, not a source for value, or beauty, or truth. In "Waiting for Godot" the result of this deliberate rule-breaking is something that is utterly boring and idiotic. There is no iota of anything worthwhile in the play. Frankly, it is horrible.

For some intelligible theater of the absurd, that is theatre which has an insightful look at the absurdity of life without being itself absurd, I recommend Eugen Ionesco. His plays are far more contextualized and less ambitious, and are also quite funny.

But for some wildly entertaining theatre of the absurd nothing beats Seinfeld reruns.

Rating:
Summary: Yes. Everybody knows it's good.
Review: Sam, you ninny, this is a good play. Stop worrying. Everyone else, shut up.

Rating:
Summary: Dreadful
Review: This is dreadful garbage. Don't waste your time.

Rating:
Summary: Genius Speaks For Itself
Review: The genius of Samuel Beckett speaks for itself. Just review these reviews! 83 at last count, ranging from interesting comments by insightful purveyors of literature and confused college students to the rantings of a right-wing blowhard to the barely intelligible hackings of the half-literate to the bellowings of pretentious Critic-wannabes!

All this over one play that supposedly wore out interest years ago. For many familiar with his work, "Waiting For Godot" is not even Beckett's best play (see "Endgame"). But it is unique and invites consideration on many levels. And it is worth experiencing solely for the stir it continues to generate over fifty years after it first appeared.

"Recognize! What is there to recognize? All my lousy life I've crawled about in the mud! And you talk to me about scenery!" --Estragon

Rating:
Summary: One of the Best
Review: "Nobody comes, nobody goes, its awful!" A true reflextion of life. One of the best from the theatre of the absurd. It turns into the vocabulary for every day thought.

Rating:
Summary: Leave the angst to the adolescents.
Review: The more Beckett you read, the more you realise how unimportant 'meaning ' is in his work. Beckett's philosophy of life rarely extends beyond the anguishes of adolescent poetry - the meaninglessness of life, the directionlessness of modern man, the random absurdity (or is that a tautology?) of the universe) yada yada, with a bit of Proustian temporising thrown in. Further, there's something numbing about vaunted 'universality', about transcending the local - something that means anything usually means nothing.

what's cherishable about 'Waiting for godot' is not its picture of the void, but the words used to fill it - more specifically, the games, the rhythms, the musicality, the clowning around, the echoes, repititions and verbal patterns; the way dialogue can fly off in any direction at the whim of the speaker, and yet always seems to come around to the same point.

I also think a knowledge of Beckett's Resistance experience, as described by James Knowlson in his biography, enriches the play rather than diminishes it; while its depiction of an arbitrarily violent world is tangibly sickening and plausible rather than vaguely metaphorical. Unlike 'Endgame', 'godot' doesn't make you feel like hanging yourself from a tree - well, it had ME tapping my feet. With bittersweet melancholy, of course.

Rating:
Summary: stuff
Review: trying to read through those other reviews was giving me a headache, and this is coming from a person who reads at least 3 books a week. so i'll make this short... to those that think this play is simply a picture of the nihilism and absurdity of life... you're missing the point. beckett draws a picture of the human condition that not only displays our most base and vilely normal and seemingly pointless actions but suffuses them with a hope and deep love for humans... a wonderful play, a journey of beauty and silence and pain.

oh, and to that one person who wrote about how this was stupid and pointless... damn, how lonely do you have to be to get to that point of cynicism where you can't even recognize humanity and the beautiful when it's at your door?