BWW Reviews: Beckett's HAPPY DAYS, or Winnie Loves Willie

If Samuel Beckett hadn't written Happy Days, which premiered Off-Broadway in 1961, some smartass trying to satirize existentialist theatre probably would have.

Even to those who don't know the play, its scripted visual of a woman buried waist deep in a mound of dirt, putting on a cheery smile as her parasol guards her from the blazing sunlight, can be easily recognized as an example of avant-garde theatre at its most absurd.

The play is essentially a two-act monologue for Winnie, who is woken by a piercing alarm whenever she's about to nod off.

"Another heavenly day," she declares, and coming from Brooke Adams in director Andrei Belgrader's production at the Flea, there isn't a drop of insincerity in her proclamation.

After the daily routine of saying her prayers, brushing her teeth and taking her tonic, Winnie, never able to budge from earth surrounding her, prattles on optimistically to her husband Willie (Adams' real-life husband Tony Shalhoub) who she wishes would crawl out from in back of her so she can look at him once in a while. Willie would rather amuse himself with help wanted ads from an old yellowed newspaper and a classic girlie post card.

Shalhoub's sullen Willie is seldom seen and rarely heard, but the actor's weary expression and, when called for, superb physical clowning, make memorable impressions.

But the success of any production of Happy Days lies in the performance of the actress playing Winnie and Adams makes for a wonderfully charming and loveable symbol of human spirit in the face of the bleakest of circumstances.

Some Winnies would have you laugh at the character's madness and focus on her denial of reality, but Adams will have you cheering her indomitable hopefulness.

The play is not for everyone, but Brooke Adams is a joy.

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