Review: WAITING FOR GODOT, Theatre Royal Haymarket

A country road. A tree. Evening. Two figures commiserate with each other’s woes. “Nothing to be done”. We have to wait 35 years to receive a really revolutionary new take on Waiting for Godot: Samuel Beckett’s estate still has too much power over any revival of the 20th century classic. James Macdonald’s starry cast is, obviously, the draw here: Ben Whishaw returns to the West End as Vladimir, the restless soul of the pair, while Lucian Msamati is the forgetful Estragon. It’s an excellent opportunity to see a handful of our most exquisite performers at work.

It’s a production characterised by an intensely defined physicality. Set against a gorgeous, arid landscape by Rae Smith, traditional clownery smoothly results in sophisticated slapstick moments that vaguely recall Stan and Ollie’s brand. It works. Engulfed by silence and darkness, Msamati and Whishaw play with the fragmentation of Beckett’s script, magically making sense of his sometimes fleetingly nonsensical trains of thought. This Godot is a bitter tragicomic farce, deeply philosophical but also genuinely funny. It becomes a reflection of staggering humanity in its continuous contradictions. 

Where Whishaw is all lanky legs and awkward stances, Msamati is a grounded force. The duo share the spotlight equally with generous performances. Their spiritual desolation reflects into the infertile parchment of Smith’s design, which juts out of the proscenium slightly, toying with the audience. A white square, like crumpled paper, dusty and lifeless, hosts all the action. Macdonald teases the removal of the fourth wall, his actors looking into the public numerous times as they address the void. It’s an intriguing figurative plot twist when you combine the stark greys of the main visuals with the golden glow of the always illuminated frame of the Haymarket’s stage.

Gogo and Didi’s codependent bickering is crashed by the arrival of Pozzo’s cruel polite society. Jonathan Slinger steals the show as the irate, whip-brandishing master to Tom Edden’s Lucky. His Pozzo holds his servant at the end of a long noose used as a leash, clean and snickering, his shiny patent leather shoes mucky with dust and dirt. At the other side, Edden is a robotic, panting, beastly man foaming at the mouth. It’s a tragically humorous vignette that turns more eerie and sour during their second encounter.

As we ponder reality in front of this almost Daliesque picture, Macdonald pushes for an increasingly more nihilistic point of view. Whishaw’s Vladimir is bound by restless hope, desperately wanting to prove to himself that he is real, while Msamati brings a more disillusioned and caustic personality. Estagon’s memory issues aren’t exploited in any nefarious way, but become part of the gag. They lean into Beckett’s examination of the fierce mortal need to find purpose in this life, fighting off inertia and filling the silent vacuum around them in fear it might talk back.

You can ultimately interpret Macdonald’s piece in many ways, putting as much of yourself as you want to. The direction leans into Godot’s elemental nature, testing the elasticity of its different facets. Its inquiry into the loneliness and isolation of the human race coexists with more straightforward comedy, further questioning the pliability of our consciousness in perfectly balanced brushstrokes. It’s been a while since Godot cropped up in Theatreland, and this is definitely a noteworthy appearance. “The essential doesn’t change,” and Beckett remains as relevant as he was 70 years ago. Go see it, but don’t break the bank in order to

Waiting for Godot runs at the Theatre Royal Haymarket until 14 Deember.

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

To post a comment, you must register and login.