Halfway through Wednesday’s matinee of Waiting for Godot, from the back of the theater we heard a man scream out, “Let me out! Get me out of here!” Soon the door on the 55th Street side of Studio 54 was flung open, and off he sped out of this dark play and into the sunshine. He must have agreed with a certain line in the play: “I’ve been better entertained.”
All the way through Wednesday’s matinee of Waiting for Godot, one could hear that annoying high-pitched tone that comes when a person using the theater’s Infrared system doesn’t turn down his hearing aid. What a fitting absurdity for the play that is the poster-child for the Theatre of the Absurd. Long before Seinfeld, here was a property about nothing – and everything.
When the curtain rose, the crowd gave recognition applause to Nathan Lane, who was already sitting in place as Estragon, the tramp who’s dealing with sore feet and too-tight shoes. When Bill Irwin came on as Vladimir, the tramp more interested in waiting for Godot (whoever he may be), he got entrance applause. The next to enter – John Glover as Lucky – did NOT get such applause, but John Goodman, who followed him in as Pozzo, did.
But here’s the thing: Who was the first to get applause for something he actually did? Glover – after his torturously long speech that seemingly came out of nowhere. And yet, it’s a harangue that makes us think, “Who knows how much is in anyone’s head? Do we underestimate people who are quiet most of the time? Is it all madness, or should wethinks there’s method in’t? Or is it just representative of the nonsense that routinely clutters our brains?”
How funny Lane was in trying to get Glover to stop talking. When Glover paused to take a breath, Lane started applauding: The Universal Symbol to get the speaker to say, “Oh, well, he assumed I was done, and maybe I should stop, for I guess I have been speaking for a while.” I was reminded of last year’s Lucille Lortel Awards. Ted Mann got an award, and gave an acceptance speech that had no end in sight. Finally, when he finished his third story, I started applauding (and many joined in) to signal him to bow and get off. He didn’t, but launched into his fourth story. After he finished that one, I led the applause again to give him a chance to get off. Nope, he had Story Five on tap. I swear he was on for 10 minutes.
Of course, Vladimir and Estragon are seldom silent, and our two leads are giving wonderfully disciplined performances under Anthony Page’s appropriately leisurely direction. Watching Irwin use his pliable body is always fun, but he’s no less impressive verbally. As many times as he must say, “We can’t” and “We’re waiting for Godot” (or variations thereof), he somehow manages to say each a different way every time. When the issue of which tramp is heavier comes up, Lane is funny in the subtle way he pulls his jacket tight around him to hide his bulk. After he sees Lucky dance, he brags, “I can do as well myself,” but after two steps he hurts himself. Yeah, talk is easy, isn’t it?
Yet Goodman was the second to win applause for his performance, upon his first exit. Lane and Irwin had to wait until the second act when they did that marvelous bit where they find Lucky’s hat, and each removes his own hat, passes it to the other, tries on Lucky’s, passes that back and forth, switching to see which is ideal. The hand-over-hand routine got a nice hand, and then Lane got a solid laugh after Irwin asked, “How does it fit me?” – for Lane’s famous perfect timing was in evidence when he answered, “How would I know?” Good point – what Vladimir really means is “How does it look on me?” and in fact that’s what he then says. But Samuel Beckett made a nice comment on those people who take each line in life literally, and drive the rest of us crazy if we don’t get the precise shade of meaning.
Godot remains timeless. How fascinating to hear the audience roar when Estragon referred to “a million years ago, in the ‘90s.” Yes, the ‘90s DO seem quite far back, don’t they? But of course when Beckett wrote it in the ‘50s, he meant the 1890’s. (Or did he? He never quite specified when his two tramps were having their conversation.)
But human nature hasn’t changed. Estragon is starving, but won’t eat the turnip offered him, because he doesn’t like turnips. Never mind that beggars can’t be choosers. When Vladimir offers him a carrot, he gratefully grabs it, eats it and somberly says, “I’ll never forget this carrot” – making us think of all those “memorable meals” we’ve had, few if any we can recall right now. Best of all, Estragon soon says, “The more you eat this, the worse it gets.” Whatever happened to gratitude?
As for Pozzo and Lucky, with Goodman’s considerable girth and Glover’s gaunt face, they make an excellent Laurel and Hardy. Years before the Stockholm Syndrome got its name, Beckett was dramatizing it for us in the way that Lucky loves his terrible master. Glover gets all of the subservience in the character’s face, let alone in his body.
Goodman is the real surprise. Take a look at the actor whom many of us first got to know as Huck Finn’s corrosive dad in Big River, who later went on to a big sitcom and film career. He’s virtually unrecognizable because we’ve never seen him play imperious and bureaucratic, not to mention rich and happy.
But that’s the first act. In the second, Pozzo’s blind and vulnerable, and Goodman is soon flat on the ground like a beached whale. Yes, fortunes can change quickly; top billing one day; next day, you’re touring in stock. During the few seconds in which you read that last sentence, someone’s life was changed horribly, through an accident, bad news, or some other catastrophe. On the other hand, someone just discovered that the lottery ticket he bought the other night holds all the winning numbers. That’s life. So is the scene where Estragon, low on the food chain, bullies the little boy who’s come to tell them of Godot’s delay. “Approach when you’re told,” he demands. Little, little fish eat the littler fish.
Godot may well have been the first Broadway play that mentioned a fart. Interesting, then, isn’t it, that Goodman should be in this production, for he, of course, was in the first TV sitcom to mention flatulence: Roseanne. So the next time you’re playing trivia, make sure you bring this up in the form of a question.
Many of us who have been around the Broadway for years often decry that these modern production aren’t all very well, and that The Street has been infanticized by Disney, spoof musicals, and recycled songs. True, but did we ever think we’d see Beckett and Ionesco simultaneously occupying two Broadway houses? That’s never before happened on the Main Stem. So, to paraphrase The Cripple of Inishmaan, Broadway can’t be such a bad place.
One last thing: Last week at Sardi’s, Bobby Cannavale, Rosie Perez, and Cheyenne Jackson announced the nominations for this year’s Drama League prizes. Cannavale pronounced the play’s title as Waiting for GOD-oh. Perez corrected him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that the true pronunciation is Waiting for God-OH. Well, I’d say that Perez owes Cannavale an apology. It’s GOD-oh right now on the stage of Studio 54. And, God, oh, it’s good.
You may e-mail Peter at pfilichia@aol.com
