Waiting for Godot

Rating:
Summary: who's on first?
Review: I enjoy reading this play. Samuel Becket (1906-1989) is considered by many to be one of the most important dramatists of the mid-twentieth century, and received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1969. WAITING for GODOT is not only his most popular, it is also his first professionally produced play. In 1953, it opened at a tiny theatre in Paris, France. The liner notes explain that the story line "evolves around two seemingly homeless men waiting for someone -- or something -- named Godot." It reminds me of the frustration I feel when I wait for meaning to arrive in my life rather than seeking it out. I also enjoy the humour. It is a comic theatrical piece combining pantomime, dialogue, dancing, pratfalls and slapstick. It is vaudevillian. The characters Pozzo and Lucky provide the physical comedy, while Vladimir and Estragon engage in whimsical banter. I only wish that Mrrs Abbott and Costello would have taken up this material because they perfected this type of conversational conundrum. E:Where shall we go? V:Not far. E:Oh yes, let's go far away from here. V:We can't. E: Why not? V:We have to come back tomorrow. E:What for? V:To wait for Godot. If you are interested in an influential theatrical work of the mid-twentieth century, this drama will be interesting to you

Rating:
Summary: Be prepared for Theater of the Absurd, ie plotless
Review: That's right; don't expect a plot in this quintessential Theater of the Absurd drama. The events revolve around two "tramps", although they are not refered to as such, and their life's agony. Vladimir especially feels isolated, for every day, it is as if he is the only one who remembers the past. Is his friend Estragon so down in life that he purposefully represses each day (which is almost exactly the same as the next)? This is very interesting in thought-provoking. If you like it, I would suggest Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead!

Rating:
Summary: A masterpiece for those who are ready for it.
Review: Waiting for Godot is not for everyone. The text though simple and short, are heavy with the weight of the most basic of all burdens: existence itself as a human being.

What is it to be human?

Waiting for Godot succeeds in capturing the stark and painful realities that most refuse to stare in the face when it comes to our day-to-day lives. Is there a God? What am I doing here? Why should I go on despite the apparent uselessness and futility of life? Why be good?

It captures and presents this with the same harsh naivety that a child would point out an Emperor's nakedness. And it is we who are naked.

It captures and cuts through to the painful ironies that mark and define our existence as human beings: hope amidst hopelessness, charity despite poverty, love marked by fear and misunderstanding.

It captures and portrays the bitter desolation of being just one human being forced to see only with one's own eyes, feel only one's own emotions, and know only one's own thoughts.

Above all, it captures and points to the cold emptiness and helplessness that opens one up to the possibility of grace.

It's a difficult book to read. It is best read with others. It begs a lifetime of simply trying to bear witness that there is hope and meaning, and that God exists. It asks for the proof of a life--capable of loving and living truly.

Absurd?

Of course. That's life.

Rating:
Summary: Simply put, one of the highwater marks of the theatre.
Review: If you haven't read or seen 'Godot', log off right now, get to your nearest library or bookstore, and get a copy. Read it, have a good cry, read it again. It definitely bears a first, second, a hundredth look.

'Godot' is probably the most important English-language play of the 20th century, a play which gives itself over to a simple interpretation and (on further reflection) staunchly refuses to be so easily encapsulated. It is a prime example of the 'Theater of the Absurd', in which physical reality entirely gives way to the reality of the stage. It is a play in which language itself breaks down spectacularly, in which the players are not characters but types, in which the central character doesn't appear on stage -- and in which the notion of a 'central character' comes under attack.

Read the play with an ear for the rhythm of the dialogue and the overwhelming mood of the piece. The characters' speech is musical, making the piece far more engrossing than (for instance) 'No Exit' by Sartre. When you're finished, have a look at 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead' by Tom Stoppard, which hautningly weaves together 'Godot' and 'Hamlet'; also have a look at Beckett's own 'Endgame', which features one of the most heartbreaking final monologues in all of theater.

To dispel a myth: Beckett did not intend for Godot to be simply God; the fact is, we do not and *can not* know who Godot is. But neither can we look at Vladimir and Estragon without seeing something of ourselves.

Rating:
Summary: chill out
Review: Beckett never intended for this book to be a timeless piece of classical literature. People thta wrote reviews like a couple that I read really have blown the whole idea out of context. Yes, it is blantanly obvious that Beckett was meaning for Godot to transfer into God, but it is superfellous to point that out. I think that the idea of crucifing him for challenging the ideas of the average white cathoic male, while at the same time being one, is absurd and people really need to "chill out". This is one of those books that recvieves som much hersay, but at the same time needs to be read and interepreted on a personal and individual level more then any other book I have read My advicer to you is to leave your mind open and really enjoy his unique grasp of human behavior and enormous capacity to interpret and transfer the raw emotions of two strangers in to words and the fact that not alot of authors can or have the guts to do. This book is amazing whether he meant for it to be that way or not

Rating:
Summary: Waiting for some of these others to get over themselves
Review: Waiting for Godot is--hands down--the best and most important play of the 20th Century. It defines 20th C humanity, not through overly complex themes, layering, etc., but rather through a simple dramatic illustration. Remember that Beckett chose to write it in French first, because he did not have as great a grasp of French as he did of English. He wanted it to be simple.

One of its first very appreciative audiences consisted of prison inmates--not generally regarded as high-literary types.

This play is funny and sad and beautiful and theatrical and human and simple.

Sure "Godot" could mean "God." Now define "God."

If you haven't the chance to see a live production, you must read this book!

Rating:
Summary: truly idiotic
Review: VLADIMIR: To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten. -Waiting for Godot

The American director Alan Schneider first met the Irish playwright Samuel Beckett in 1955, after being hired to direct the United States premiere of ''Waiting for Godot'' in Miami. Schneider had come to Beckett's Paris apartment bursting with preproduction questions, especially regarding the identity of the title character. To Schneider's initial query, ''Who is Godot?,'' the laconic playwright famously replied, ''If I knew, I would have said so in the play.''

Henceforth, Schneider was to devote most of his career to realizing Beckett's stated intentions in his plays. But despite his fidelity to every letter of Beckett's text, and despite the participation of such popular clowns as Bert Lahr and Tom Ewell, the Miami production of ''Waiting for Godot'' was a resounding flop. Baffled by the metaphysical reverberations of a work that had been billed as ''the laugh riot of two continents,'' a third of the audience left at intermission. Others lined up at the box office not to purchase tickets but to ask for refunds. -from Robert Brustein's NY Times review of The Correspondence of Samuel Beckett and Alan Schneider

To read Waiting for Godot is to bitterly envy those lucky folks who actually had the privilege of walking out and demanding their money back. In a more just world they would have hunted down the playwright and horsewhipped him.

Here is the play in its entirety: Two tramps, Vladimir and Estragon, wait by a tree for two days, expecting the imminent appearance of Godot. Instead they are visited by a master and slave, Pozzo and Lucky, and a boy who brings them a message that Godot will soon be there. The curtain falls. The crowd hisses.

That's it. Godot is obviously supposed to be God (though Beckett relentless fought against others finding meaning in the work) and the play presumably demonstrates the futility of human existence: waiting around for the God who never shows. Of course, this message is nothing new. In fact, it is central to the story of Christ. When he was being crucified, Jesus wailed: "Oh Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?" It is in this moment that God/Christ came to understand man's despair and Christ then admonished: "Forgive them Lord, they know not what they do." So 2000 years ago, it was said better in a far superior drama; why sit through this piece of crap?

One delightful irony that I found is that Beckett was adamant that production of this play--which is supposed to show the folly of existence, the impossibility of communication, etc.--follow the strict guidelines that he envisioned:

In his autobiography, the American director Alan Schneider recalled his attendance with Samuel Beckett at the first run of Waiting for Godot in London in 1955. Whenever a line was misinterpreted or an extra piece of stage business was added, Beckett would clutch Schneider's arm and exclaim, in a clearly audible stage whisper, "It's ahl wrahng! He's doing it ahl wrahng!"1 That loud whisper still sounds in the ears of those who stage Beckett's plays now. No other dead dramatist remains such a daunting admonitory presence for his directors and performers. Where most great playwrights were content to write the text of a play, Beckett wrote the entire theatrical event. He specified, not just the words, but the rhythms and tones, the sets and the lighting plots, and these specifications are preserved in the remarkable series of notebooks whose publication by Faber and Faber is now completed with S.E. Gontarski's exemplary edition of Beckett's ledgers for productions of his short late plays.

Where most plays invite the active participation of actors, directors, and designers in determining the meaning of the work, Beckett's work demands that the meaning remains indeterminate. Where theater artists think of themselves as interpreters, any interpretation of a Beckett play is necessarily a reduction. With these plays, creative intervention seems like crass interference. The director is haunted by the playwright's stern ghost, frowning, clutching his arm, whispering at every deviation, "It's ahl wrahng!" -from Game Without End by Fintan O'Toole (NY Review of Books)

I mean that's just beautiful. Life is pointless, but it's my way or the highway. You've gotta love it. These poor existentialists have such a hard time keeping their story straight, you can sometimes almost feel sorry for them.

I took a Humanities class in High School and absolutely loathed it (some of you may recall my discussion of Ragtime which a teacher suggested I read for the class--see Review). This was one of the things we read and even as a callow youth of 15 or 16, I was flabbergasted at what a crock it was. Now that I'm older, crustier and, hopefully, wiser, I have even less patience with idiocy and this play is truly idiotic.

GRADE: F

Rating:
Summary: this book is funny! so why don't other reviewers think so?
Review: I was a little troubled, upon reading a number of other reviews of the play, by the number of people who seem to find Beckett impossibly dense. Sure, some of this is difficult material, but can't we just enjoy a play for its wit and humor? This play has an inordinate number of laugh-out-loud funny moments...let's not forget that Beckett wants us to notice that these people are pathetically hopeless, and a fundamental part of Beckett's weltanschaungg (if I may misspell the German) is humanity's ability to laugh at itself. Especially when unable to control the bowels. So buy the book. Try to understand. But if you can't, laugh anyway.

Rating:
Summary: What do we wait for?
Review: This book brings up an interesting question: what do we wait for? The sudden realization that our lives are spent waiting for the next event in our lives to occur. Not often do we stop to consider the events of the present without yearning for the events of the future. Such is the struggle of the two characters in this novel. Only one of which truely realizes his situation. In the two characters seemily meaningless conversation that alludes to biblical passages, philosophical movements, and contemporary thinking, the point is brought across with repitition: what are we waiting for? And in this only one answer seems to be true: we are waiting for Godot to come! And comes the resounding moan... A very good read, dispite the clear fragmentation that Beckett used. A metaphor is suggested (such as the Eifel tower) but no idea is place on the metaphor, or it is detached from it. For example, a rose is associated with love, this book would take away the love aspect of the rose metaphor, leaving us only the rose and allowing use to draw our own conclusions. A book for a good deep thought, it gets my personal thumbs up.

Rating:
Summary: Waiting for Godot
Review: In the book Waiting for Godot there is a strong emphasis on repetition. This makes for an exciting read for anyone looking for an interpretive book of any sort. Waiting for Godot raises many questions, such as the existence of God and the question "Does he care about us?" Throughout the play the reader gets a sense that more and more of the text is symbolic of something. The main characters, Didi and Gogo, are two homeless men who have banded together to comfort one another, and so neither one will be "alone." With their days spent waiting for Godot to arrive, they talk of many different things, such as suicide, who they really are, and what they have done. After act two, the reader realizes something strange is has happened, but may not be able to place their finger on it for a while. The cast of characters is very interesting and diverse, and proves to be plethoras of information and knowledge. The veteran reader may, at the end of the play, feel somewhat enlighten, as Beckett's style of writing is very witty, and very good at getting the author's point across. This book may not be for the novice reader, or someone that is looking for a work of escape literature. It includes an enormous amount of interpretation, and could possibly agitate anyone who does not enjoy that sort of book.