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Warten auf Godot
Ein Autor (Samuel Beckett). Ein Drama (Warten auf Godot). Zwei Akte.
Zweimal zwei Personen: Wladimir (Didi) und Estragon (Gogo), Pozzo und Lucky (Herr und Sklave) sowie ein Junge.
Landstraße. Ein Baum. Abend.
Man wartet. Auf Godot. Ganze zwei Akte lang. Doch Godot kommt nicht.
Zweimal zwei Personen: Wladimir (Didi) und Estragon (Gogo), Pozzo und Lucky (Herr und Sklave) sowie ein Junge.
Landstraße. Ein Baum. Abend.
Man wartet. Auf Godot. Ganze zwei Akte lang. Doch Godot kommt nicht.
Es passiert nichts. Nichts von Belang. Man wartet und langweilt sich. Man tauscht Banalitäten aus, Weisheiten... Man nervt sich. Man könnte sich umbringen, dann würde endlich mal was passieren! Man verzichtet darauf. Godot kommt nicht. Man wartet. Vielleicht morgen...
Absurd!
So eine karge Bühne, so eine karge Handlung und so eine karge Sprache! Was der irische Dramatiker Anfang der 50er Jahre auf die Bühne brachte, war eine schallende Ohrfeige für ein Publikum, das gewohnt war, im Theater vor allem eins zu Gesicht zu bekommen: Stücke mit Sinn.
Das hier hatte keinen, und so rauschte man, ohne den zweiten Akt abzuwarten, in der Pause empört aus dem Theater.
Aber die Gemüter beruhigten sich im Laufe der Zeit. Becketts Drama ist längst ein moderner Klassiker, und sein Autor einer der wichtigsten Autoren des absurden Theaters sowie des 20. Jahrhunderts überhaupt.
Es gibt unzählige Deutungsversuche. Eine Warnung vor der Atombombe. Die Darstellung zweier Fellachen, die auf die Bodenreform warten. Die Frage nach Gott. Die Interpretationen sagen stets mehr über den Interpretierenden selbst aus, als über das Drama. Die Antwort des Autors ist karg wie sein Stück: "Wenn ich es wüßte, würde ich es sagen."
Fast fünfzig Jahre nach seiner Entstehung können wir die Empörung, die das Drama einst auslöste, kaum nachvollziehen. Heutzutage ist doch nichts mehr absurd. Oder?
Als eine englische Theatergruppe das Stück 1998 mit einer Besetzung, die nur aus Frauen bestand, inszenieren wollte, wurde es ihr mit der Begründung, das entstelle zu sehr den Sinn, untersagt. Vielleicht morgen... --Anne Hauschild
241 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1951
2756 people are currently reading
137428 people want to read
About the author
Samuel Beckett
919 books6,578 followersNovels of Samuel Barclay Beckett, Irish writer, include
Murphy
in 1938 and
Malone Dies
in 1951; a wider audience know his absurdist plays, such as
Waiting for Godot
in 1952 and
Krapp's Last Tape
in 1959, and he won the Nobel Prize of 1969 for literature.
Samuel Barclay Beckett, an avant-garde theater director and poet, lived in France for most of his adult life. He used English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black gallows humor.
People regard most influence of Samuel Barclay Beckett of the 20th century. James Augustine Aloysius Joyce strongly influenced him, whom people consider as one modernist. People sometimes consider him as an inspiration to many later first postmodernists. He is one of the key in what Martin Esslin called the "theater of the absurd". His later career worked with increasing minimalism.
People awarded Samuel Barclay Beckett "for his writing, which—in new forms for the novel and drama—in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation".
In 1984, people elected Samuel Barclay Bennett as Saoi of Aosdána.
Samuel Barclay Beckett, an avant-garde theater director and poet, lived in France for most of his adult life. He used English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black gallows humor.
People regard most influence of Samuel Barclay Beckett of the 20th century. James Augustine Aloysius Joyce strongly influenced him, whom people consider as one modernist. People sometimes consider him as an inspiration to many later first postmodernists. He is one of the key in what Martin Esslin called the "theater of the absurd". His later career worked with increasing minimalism.
People awarded Samuel Barclay Beckett "for his writing, which—in new forms for the novel and drama—in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation".
In 1984, people elected Samuel Barclay Bennett as Saoi of Aosdána.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 11,056 reviews
November 12, 2016
“What happened?"
“Nothing happened.”
“Why did nothing happen?
“How would I know?”
“You would know.”
“I would?”
“Yes.”
“How I would know?”
“Because you read it.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.“
“How do you know?”
“It is on your shelf.”
“So?”
“You rated it.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means you have read it.”
“Oh I have.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Why did nothing happen?”
“Because they were waiting for Godot.”
Waiting and nothing – I could take these two words and use them in as many combinations as the rules of probability allow to create a ‘review’ that would be as much meaningful as it would be meaningless. I could draw upon the elusive symbolism of the text in the manner of a perspicacious hermeneut whose convoluted exegesis would only serve to frustrate him even more. Or like a blurb-writer I could summarise the four-and-a-half characters, the austere landscape, the leafless tree, the role of the taut rope and jangling bucket, and the heap of nonsense, but what would that achieve?
Suffice it to say that the sheer speed of the bare dialogue makes you want to slow down and look for something queer happening between the lines, but nothing happens. Or perhaps everything happens? You can look at from any number of angles and it adapts itself to your point of view. You can attach any meaning to the memorable symbolism and it helps you comprehend that meaning. You may hypothesize at will and the text will lend you a hand to prove it.
Beckett in his frugal minimalist brilliance paints a powerful imagery of an agitated self, a helpless being, a lonely traveller, in eternal yet meaningless wait, which life ultimately is, till we take the final leap into oblivion. The act of wait, which is an act of life, is given a comic dimension in the play. By the end the reader becomes one with the characters, waiting for things to happen, for something to happen, but nothing ever happens. Yet life happens.
I think it's impossible to review Waiting for Godot adequately, not even after a long and thorough analysis, because in that case one would be seeking directions where none exist.
The best review of the play is the one that is not written.
February '15
“Nothing happened.”
“Why did nothing happen?
“How would I know?”
“You would know.”
“I would?”
“Yes.”
“How I would know?”
“Because you read it.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.“
“How do you know?”
“It is on your shelf.”
“So?”
“You rated it.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means you have read it.”
“Oh I have.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Why did nothing happen?”
“Because they were waiting for Godot.”
Waiting and nothing – I could take these two words and use them in as many combinations as the rules of probability allow to create a ‘review’ that would be as much meaningful as it would be meaningless. I could draw upon the elusive symbolism of the text in the manner of a perspicacious hermeneut whose convoluted exegesis would only serve to frustrate him even more. Or like a blurb-writer I could summarise the four-and-a-half characters, the austere landscape, the leafless tree, the role of the taut rope and jangling bucket, and the heap of nonsense, but what would that achieve?
Suffice it to say that the sheer speed of the bare dialogue makes you want to slow down and look for something queer happening between the lines, but nothing happens. Or perhaps everything happens? You can look at from any number of angles and it adapts itself to your point of view. You can attach any meaning to the memorable symbolism and it helps you comprehend that meaning. You may hypothesize at will and the text will lend you a hand to prove it.
Beckett in his frugal minimalist brilliance paints a powerful imagery of an agitated self, a helpless being, a lonely traveller, in eternal yet meaningless wait, which life ultimately is, till we take the final leap into oblivion. The act of wait, which is an act of life, is given a comic dimension in the play. By the end the reader becomes one with the characters, waiting for things to happen, for something to happen, but nothing ever happens. Yet life happens.
I think it's impossible to review Waiting for Godot adequately, not even after a long and thorough analysis, because in that case one would be seeking directions where none exist.
The best review of the play is the one that is not written.
February '15
September 23, 2014
ACT III
VLADIMIR: They've called us back.
ESTRAGON: For an encore?
VLADIMIR: No, we're supposed to say what it means.
[A pause]
ESTRAGON: What what means?
VLADIMIR: This play! We have to explain it.
ESTRAGON: And then?
VLADIMIR: [discouraged] I don't know. Maybe Godot will arrive. But again, maybe he won't. He's not very reliable. [Another pause] Still, we can try.
[They both think deeply]
VLADIMIR: Any ideas yet?
ESTRAGON: My boots don't fit. My feet hurt.
VLADIMIR: [furious] Idiot! This isn't about your boots. We're talking meaning here! Philosophy!
ESTRAGON: Sorry.
[They continue to think. Enter POZZO and LUCKY]
VLADIMIR: Ah! How fortunate. Maybe you can explain the meaning of this play?
POZZO: My sight has been miraculously restored.
VLADIMIR: Oh! Good. But...
POZZO: Lucky!
[LUCKY moves center stage, and begins mumbling in a flat monotone voice]
LUCKY: Man's search for himself in an inhospitable cosmos... absurdity of all human action... black humour... marked by his wartime experiences...
[POZZO punches him, knocking LUCKY down]
LUCKY: [writhing on the ground] ...shifting relationship between the signifier and the signified...
[POZZO continues to kick him savagely]
LUCKY: [gasping] ... différance... impossibility of interpretation... semiotics... encoding... oh fuck!... fuck!... please stop kicking me! I don't know! I don't know!
POZZO: [finally smiling] That's better.
VLADIMIR: They've called us back.
ESTRAGON: For an encore?
VLADIMIR: No, we're supposed to say what it means.
[A pause]
ESTRAGON: What what means?
VLADIMIR: This play! We have to explain it.
ESTRAGON: And then?
VLADIMIR: [discouraged] I don't know. Maybe Godot will arrive. But again, maybe he won't. He's not very reliable. [Another pause] Still, we can try.
[They both think deeply]
VLADIMIR: Any ideas yet?
ESTRAGON: My boots don't fit. My feet hurt.
VLADIMIR: [furious] Idiot! This isn't about your boots. We're talking meaning here! Philosophy!
ESTRAGON: Sorry.
[They continue to think. Enter POZZO and LUCKY]
VLADIMIR: Ah! How fortunate. Maybe you can explain the meaning of this play?
POZZO: My sight has been miraculously restored.
VLADIMIR: Oh! Good. But...
POZZO: Lucky!
[LUCKY moves center stage, and begins mumbling in a flat monotone voice]
LUCKY: Man's search for himself in an inhospitable cosmos... absurdity of all human action... black humour... marked by his wartime experiences...
[POZZO punches him, knocking LUCKY down]
LUCKY: [writhing on the ground] ...shifting relationship between the signifier and the signified...
[POZZO continues to kick him savagely]
LUCKY: [gasping] ... différance... impossibility of interpretation... semiotics... encoding... oh fuck!... fuck!... please stop kicking me! I don't know! I don't know!
POZZO: [finally smiling] That's better.
January 29, 2019
One of the most entertaining and uplifting stories you will ever come across. Every time I get done with this read I feel wonderful and inspired. Why? Because Beckett sees the truth about being human: there is Nothing to be done. And laughter is such a potent weapon against despair.
November 13, 2018
Who wants to see a play in which nothing happens? Who wants to see a play in which the characters make little or no sense? Who wants to see a play in which the same senseless nothingness is repeated in the second and only other act? Not me that’s for sure. I honestly don’t think I could sit through a production of this, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate its artistic merit on the page.
Nothing happens, but that is the beauty of it.
A famous theatre reviewer once said “this is a play in which nothing happens, twice.” He was right, of course, but at the same time recognised the brilliance of the play. The fact that nothing happens is the reason why this play is so clever and tragic. The characters are stuck in this cycle of nothingness; they are destined to spend each day waiting for the mysterious entity known as Godot. He never comes. If nothingness didn’t happen twice then we, as the audience, would be unaware of this fact and, consequently, be ignorant to the tragic brilliance of the play.
“ESTRAGON: I can't go on like this.
VLADIMIR: That's what you think.”
Indeed, the plot is bizarrely simple: two men Vladimir and Estragon are simply waiting for Godot. They don’t remember why they are waiting or even who this Godot character is. They just know that they must wait. Whilst they wait they encounter two equally as strange characters, Pozzo and Lucky. Lucky is Pozzo’s slave for no apparent reason and the two seem completely dependent on each other like Vladimir and Estragon are themselves. The four engage in a weird and perplexing conversation, and then go about their business. The next act is very similar to the first.
Beckett breaks the rules
The play belongs to the absurdist theatre branch, which challenges the conventions of the realism theatre of the ninetieth and early twentieth centuries; it does the exact opposite to what was considered a well-made play. The characters carry out a chain of repetitive and mundane dialogue, which is completely devoid of any concreate meaning. There are no geographical or historical specifications as the dialogue is reduced down to a series of pointless statements. We have no idea where these characters are or where they’ve come from. The play appears illogical and rich in purposelessness, but it is utterly brilliant; it was something completely “out there” at the time, and still is really.
“Estragon: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?
Vladimir: Yes, yes, we're magicians.”
In all honestly this play is excruciating to read; it is completely awful in parts and frustrating, but the idea Samuel Beckett conveys at the same time is grand; it makes up for the torture he has put you through as you look back and realise what he has achieved: you look back and understand why he has broken all the conventions and wrote a play that is as absurd as it is genius. By doing so he has recognised the strange absurdity that is human existence, and questioned the purposelessness of this thing we call life. He has created a Tragedy, as great as any that came before it, by using the most unconventional of methods.
I could never give this a five star rating because it is just too painful to read regardless of what it achieves. However, to ignore the artistic merit of the play would be an act of pure self-conceiting ignorance. As Estragon says:
“Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.”
I will never read this again, or ever go to watch it at a theatre, but it is something I look back on and say “what a brilliant idea” even if I found the reading process quite painful and dull.
Nothing happens, but that is the beauty of it.
A famous theatre reviewer once said “this is a play in which nothing happens, twice.” He was right, of course, but at the same time recognised the brilliance of the play. The fact that nothing happens is the reason why this play is so clever and tragic. The characters are stuck in this cycle of nothingness; they are destined to spend each day waiting for the mysterious entity known as Godot. He never comes. If nothingness didn’t happen twice then we, as the audience, would be unaware of this fact and, consequently, be ignorant to the tragic brilliance of the play.
“ESTRAGON: I can't go on like this.
VLADIMIR: That's what you think.”
Indeed, the plot is bizarrely simple: two men Vladimir and Estragon are simply waiting for Godot. They don’t remember why they are waiting or even who this Godot character is. They just know that they must wait. Whilst they wait they encounter two equally as strange characters, Pozzo and Lucky. Lucky is Pozzo’s slave for no apparent reason and the two seem completely dependent on each other like Vladimir and Estragon are themselves. The four engage in a weird and perplexing conversation, and then go about their business. The next act is very similar to the first.
Beckett breaks the rules
The play belongs to the absurdist theatre branch, which challenges the conventions of the realism theatre of the ninetieth and early twentieth centuries; it does the exact opposite to what was considered a well-made play. The characters carry out a chain of repetitive and mundane dialogue, which is completely devoid of any concreate meaning. There are no geographical or historical specifications as the dialogue is reduced down to a series of pointless statements. We have no idea where these characters are or where they’ve come from. The play appears illogical and rich in purposelessness, but it is utterly brilliant; it was something completely “out there” at the time, and still is really.
“Estragon: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?
Vladimir: Yes, yes, we're magicians.”
In all honestly this play is excruciating to read; it is completely awful in parts and frustrating, but the idea Samuel Beckett conveys at the same time is grand; it makes up for the torture he has put you through as you look back and realise what he has achieved: you look back and understand why he has broken all the conventions and wrote a play that is as absurd as it is genius. By doing so he has recognised the strange absurdity that is human existence, and questioned the purposelessness of this thing we call life. He has created a Tragedy, as great as any that came before it, by using the most unconventional of methods.
I could never give this a five star rating because it is just too painful to read regardless of what it achieves. However, to ignore the artistic merit of the play would be an act of pure self-conceiting ignorance. As Estragon says:
“Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.”
I will never read this again, or ever go to watch it at a theatre, but it is something I look back on and say “what a brilliant idea” even if I found the reading process quite painful and dull.
February 17, 2021
We are no longer alone, waiting for the night, waiting for Godot, waiting for… waiting.
كل شيء هنا يتافر ليعطيك نتيجة واحدة
لا خلاص
لا خلاص من أي نوع
إنك محاصر.. مقيد.. لا تستطيع الهرب
فأنت أصلا لا تستطيع الحركة
دماغك محصور بأفكار معينة
تقيدك قبل أن تسمح لك بالتمعن فيما حولك
لتدرك أنك عاجز عن التحكم بأبسط أمور حياتك
كما بأكثرها تعقيدا
لا خلاص
حتى الانتحار.. مستحيل
:::::::::::
كلنا ننتظر جودو
الشخصيات
الجمهور
القراء
وحتى الكاتب نفسه
لا يزال ينتظر
عالما وعالمين جميعا أنه انتظار بلا طائل
إنه تعزيز أكبر للاشيء
اللاأمل و اللايأس
المكوث على حافة الحياة
اللامجهول والذي هو مع ذلك مؤلم وفاجع
ونحن لا نعرف جودو
لا نعرف عنه شيئًا
لا نعرف سبب انتظارهم له
ولكننا لا نفتأ ننتظر
فما تفعله الشخصيات هو بدون غاية
بالضبط كما نفعل نحن
كما يفعل جميع البشر
هراء نسبح بداخله جميعا
وإحباط يسيطر على كل خطوة يخطوها بشري عبر التاريخ
عدم وفراغ
:::::::::::
جمال المسرحية يكمن في أنها تلقى في أنفسنا بعد عقود نفس الصدى
بينما وجهت أساسا لجيل تعذب بويلات الحرب
من خراب وفوضى
لتسمو فوق الخاص
وتشمل الانسان الحائر بمعناه الأعم والأشمل
:::::::::::
"إستراجون على الأرض.. ينتمي للحجر
فلاديمير هو الضوء.. يتجه للسماء"
إستراجون وفلاديمير هما بطلا المسرحية الرئيسيين
يمثلان الانسان بوجهيه
الجسد والعقل
إستراجون مهووس بحذائه
بينما نجد فلاديمير مهووسا بقبعته
إستراجون "منشغل بالجسمانية.. بالأرض"
بينما يفكر فلاديمير
"وهو من "يتأمل طبيعة الزمن
ولكن إلام أوصلته دماغه
وإلى أين ذهبت به أفكاره
لل لاشيء
فهو من يذكر إستراجون في نهاية المسرحية
بأنهما هنا في انتظار الذي لا يأتي
:::::::::::
يحيلنا بيكيت كذلك إلى فكرة الاستعباد
فشخصية لاكي تبدو مضطهدة أمام استبداد بوزو
الديكتاتور الإقطاعي الذي يتمتع بتعذيبه لشخص مسكين
لا يملك عن نفسه دفاعا
في أحيان كثيرة كنت أشعر أن الحبل الذي يجره بوزو به من رقبته
يمتد ليلتف حول رقبتي أنا
:::::::::::
تمضي المسرحية ما بين صمت كصمت القبور
وثرثرة خاوية لا طائل منها
تكرار الجمل.. وعقم الحوار
وعبثيته تلك هي جزء من الفوضى الكبرى التي تهدد البشر
لتقضي عليهم دون أن يستطيعون منها فكاكا
كل شيء مصاب بالخلل
الخوف والاضطراب يسيطر على الجميع
والملل ينهي كل ما تبقى من أمل
:::::::::::
أنتم يا من نتنظرون اللاشيء
توقفوا عن الانتظار
سئمنا استسلامكم للعدم
وتمسككم بكل خيط واه سرعان ما ينقطع
توقفوا عن الانتظار
لن ياتي
لن يأتي
..
November 22, 2022
ا"لا شيء يحدث و لا احد يجيء "هذا هو بإختصار فحوى تلك التراجيدية المضحكة!؟
سيظل الإنسان منتظرا للأبد لاي شيء
..العدل..الثراء..النصر..او المختار الذي سيجلب معه السعادة.. اليس هذا هو حال البشر؟؟
احقاقا للحق...ارى ان المسرحيات🎭 لابد أن نشاهدها على المسرح فقط..لا لكي نقرأها أو حتى نشاهدها على الشاشات...ولكن لان هذه المسرحية العبثية احتلت المركز الأول بين ما تم كتابته بالإنجليزية في القرن20..قرأتها...تعجبت قليلا من أسلوبها الغير مألوف..سيل من الثرثرة الغير منطقية
ولكني ضبطت نفسي استعمل اسم المسرحية في حياتي اليومية مرارا..👀
فدائما نجد انفسنا مصطدمين مع أشخاص على نمط فلاديمير وصديقه المنتظرين للأبد ( لجودو )الذي لن يأتي ابدا..ولن يحول حياة احد للافضل
بل وقد ياتي على نمط( عودة الابن الضال) ا
.. ولن احمل المسرحية رموزا دينية او غيرها.. بسبب الاسم
Godot
بل اتعامل مع الفكرة الواضحة المجردة..قد تكون انتظار الخلاص..الإشباع..السعادة....او حتى الموت
و لكن من احدى كبار المعجبات بعالم السحر والخيال ..اؤكد انه لا وجود مطلقا لهذا "الساحر"الذي يجيء ليحول حياتنا للافضل ..
سيظل الإنسان منتظرا للأبد لاي شيء
..العدل..الثراء..النصر..او المختار الذي سيجلب معه السعادة.. اليس هذا هو حال البشر؟؟
احقاقا للحق...ارى ان المسرحيات🎭 لابد أن نشاهدها على المسرح فقط..لا لكي نقرأها أو حتى نشاهدها على الشاشات...ولكن لان هذه المسرحية العبثية احتلت المركز الأول بين ما تم كتابته بالإنجليزية في القرن20..قرأتها...تعجبت قليلا من أسلوبها الغير مألوف..سيل من الثرثرة الغير منطقية
ولكني ضبطت نفسي استعمل اسم المسرحية في حياتي اليومية مرارا..👀
فدائما نجد انفسنا مصطدمين مع أشخاص على نمط فلاديمير وصديقه المنتظرين للأبد ( لجودو )الذي لن يأتي ابدا..ولن يحول حياة احد للافضل
بل وقد ياتي على نمط( عودة الابن الضال) ا
.. ولن احمل المسرحية رموزا دينية او غيرها.. بسبب الاسم
Godot
بل اتعامل مع الفكرة الواضحة المجردة..قد تكون انتظار الخلاص..الإشباع..السعادة....او حتى الموت
و لكن من احدى كبار المعجبات بعالم السحر والخيال ..اؤكد انه لا وجود مطلقا لهذا "الساحر"الذي يجيء ليحول حياتنا للافضل ..
July 9, 2025
*edited on 23.05.2021
Was I sleeping while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place until the fall of night, I waited for Godot?
link: source
E: here you are! Again, writing some bullshit!
V: well, it’s about a play by Beckett!
E: oh! again! what is it about?
V: it is an existential tragicomedy- “nothing to be done”
E: oh! absurd!
V: yea, it is, it is ‘Waiting for Godot’
E: what Godoh God ot Goddoh God?
V: it's Godot G O D O T
E: strange name, what is it some God or something?
V: yeah, strange, it's nothing!
E: well, why does anyone wait in this, in the first place?
V: perhaps, that’s how it is
E: what is the whole point of waiting?
V: I don’t know, we simply have to wait
E: wait! how much one should wait?
V: before deciding it’s enough?
E: why wait?
V: perhaps we are condemned to do so
E: condemned! really! by whom?
V: I don’t really know but we are condemned
E: and does anything happens during our tribulation
V: no nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful. it is the universal phenomenon that the universe is perpetual and effectively nothing originates and dies off
E: nothing happens?
V: nothing, blathering about nothing, too much ado about nothing
E: why we read it then, in the first place?
V: I don’t get you?
E: we seek some action, at least in a play?
V: but there is none here
E: why do we read then it?
V: that’s exactly why we read it
E: is there any point in reading it?
V: perhaps none
E: then why do we read it?
V: that’s why we read it
E: and who will read it?
V: those who have troubled souls!
E: didn't get you!
V: those who want to experience life, in its fundamental form
E: what is it- life or death?
V: it is both, it is like an ordeal of human existence
E: but one must be bored to death, in this well of nothingness
V: hmm! death! That’s what we are running from, only towards it
E: bullshit! answer me first
V: well! alienation is a curse but we always find something for our illusion
E: we do exist, you do exist, I do exist, the one who is reading do exist
V: well! we are thrown into this existential malaise which is absurd
E: but we do exist?
V: we have to create meaning in this meaningless ordeal of ours, it is absurd but we have to go on, we need to make ourselves believe that we do exist
E: and what about life?
V: what we are discussing is life!
E: strange!
V: 'absurd' is the word!
E: can’t we break free
V: don’t talk nonsense
E: well! there must be some hope, somewhere, here, there, or in Beckett’s world?
V: hope! it is a hallucinating drug
E: so, there is nothing we can do
V: well! we may dance, we may sing, we may think or we may read or write
E: we have been doing for centuries
V: yea, it’s the endless vicious circle, again and again
E: so, there is nothing we can do
V: we can, we can wait
E: for Godot?
V: for our own Godot, each one of us has his/ her own Godot
link: source
E: and how we pass time
V: well! we need distractions
E: reading about you writing about reading others is a distraction?
V: yea
E: why do we do it then?
V: to pass time
E: what about beliefs?
V: well! they are created just to find some solace in our ordeal
E: really?
V: man is a slave to his own dogmas, anyone who tries to free him from those is met with repugnance
E: so, what about universe or universes?
V: it is just created out of nothing, for nothing, and will end up in nothing
E: nihilo ex nihilo
V: hmm!
E: so, we just have to pass the time?
V: perhaps we do
E: doesn’t it pass anyway
V: it will but we have to pass our time
E: could we get free from it?
V: don’t talk nonsense
E: could we hang ourselves?
V: shut up!
E: does god sees me?
V: well! he may not but we have to believe he does
E: what is his name God Godoh Godot, but the name must represent something?
V: it represents nothing!
E: absurd!
V: yea, just like life!
E: is he God?
V: I don’t know but he controls everything
E: then he can’t be god, for sure
V: well, is there any God at all?
E: how would I know, but the concept is very fancy
V: are talking about any specific god/s?
E: ah! they all are the same
V: but if there is any, why doesn’t he respond then?
E: perhaps he is not capable of, probably he doesn’t exist too
V: we should wait for Godot
E: is he capable of freeing us from this existential hell
V: how does it matter, if he is capable or not, one has to do what one has to do
E: you're right
V: hmm! waiting! how do we become used to waiting?
E: I don’t know but this is how we are, condemned!
V: are we dreaming? are we hallucinating?
E: haha! man always does it!
V: does what?
E: whenever he is encountered with truth, he seeks refuge in the names of dreams, visions, or hallucinations
V: it is very nihilistic
E: it is like life
V: what we have done, ah! it is futile
E: I told you so
V: it’s silly
E: the play?
V: oh man! it is, but I am not talking about it
E: isn’t life itself is silly?
V: bingo!
E: oh God(ot)! is it?
V: should we break free from it?
E: I want to break free
V: lets us hang ourselves
E: we can’t
V: don’t we have rope
E: haha! we don’t, still, we are tied, but it’s not about the rope
V: so, we have to wait
E: like every day we do
V: to end up the same
E: that’s how we are
V: condemned!
(P.S.:- E and V complement each other and reflect humanity in whole)
link: source
One day, is that enough for you, one day like any other day, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
5/5
Was I sleeping while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place until the fall of night, I waited for Godot?
link: source
E: here you are! Again, writing some bullshit!
V: well, it’s about a play by Beckett!
E: oh! again! what is it about?
V: it is an existential tragicomedy- “nothing to be done”
E: oh! absurd!
V: yea, it is, it is ‘Waiting for Godot’
E: what Godoh God ot Goddoh God?
V: it's Godot G O D O T
E: strange name, what is it some God or something?
V: yeah, strange, it's nothing!
E: well, why does anyone wait in this, in the first place?
V: perhaps, that’s how it is
E: what is the whole point of waiting?
V: I don’t know, we simply have to wait
E: wait! how much one should wait?
V: before deciding it’s enough?
E: why wait?
V: perhaps we are condemned to do so
E: condemned! really! by whom?
V: I don’t really know but we are condemned
E: and does anything happens during our tribulation
V: no nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful. it is the universal phenomenon that the universe is perpetual and effectively nothing originates and dies off
E: nothing happens?
V: nothing, blathering about nothing, too much ado about nothing
E: why we read it then, in the first place?
V: I don’t get you?
E: we seek some action, at least in a play?
V: but there is none here
E: why do we read then it?
V: that’s exactly why we read it
E: is there any point in reading it?
V: perhaps none
E: then why do we read it?
V: that’s why we read it
E: and who will read it?
V: those who have troubled souls!
E: didn't get you!
V: those who want to experience life, in its fundamental form
E: what is it- life or death?
V: it is both, it is like an ordeal of human existence
E: but one must be bored to death, in this well of nothingness
V: hmm! death! That’s what we are running from, only towards it
E: bullshit! answer me first
V: well! alienation is a curse but we always find something for our illusion
E: we do exist, you do exist, I do exist, the one who is reading do exist
V: well! we are thrown into this existential malaise which is absurd
E: but we do exist?
V: we have to create meaning in this meaningless ordeal of ours, it is absurd but we have to go on, we need to make ourselves believe that we do exist
E: and what about life?
V: what we are discussing is life!
E: strange!
V: 'absurd' is the word!
E: can’t we break free
V: don’t talk nonsense
E: well! there must be some hope, somewhere, here, there, or in Beckett’s world?
V: hope! it is a hallucinating drug
E: so, there is nothing we can do
V: well! we may dance, we may sing, we may think or we may read or write
E: we have been doing for centuries
V: yea, it’s the endless vicious circle, again and again
E: so, there is nothing we can do
V: we can, we can wait
E: for Godot?
V: for our own Godot, each one of us has his/ her own Godot
link: source
E: and how we pass time
V: well! we need distractions
E: reading about you writing about reading others is a distraction?
V: yea
E: why do we do it then?
V: to pass time
E: what about beliefs?
V: well! they are created just to find some solace in our ordeal
E: really?
V: man is a slave to his own dogmas, anyone who tries to free him from those is met with repugnance
E: so, what about universe or universes?
V: it is just created out of nothing, for nothing, and will end up in nothing
E: nihilo ex nihilo
V: hmm!
E: so, we just have to pass the time?
V: perhaps we do
E: doesn’t it pass anyway
V: it will but we have to pass our time
E: could we get free from it?
V: don’t talk nonsense
E: could we hang ourselves?
V: shut up!
E: does god sees me?
V: well! he may not but we have to believe he does
E: what is his name God Godoh Godot, but the name must represent something?
V: it represents nothing!
E: absurd!
V: yea, just like life!
E: is he God?
V: I don’t know but he controls everything
E: then he can’t be god, for sure
V: well, is there any God at all?
E: how would I know, but the concept is very fancy
V: are talking about any specific god/s?
E: ah! they all are the same
V: but if there is any, why doesn’t he respond then?
E: perhaps he is not capable of, probably he doesn’t exist too
V: we should wait for Godot
E: is he capable of freeing us from this existential hell
V: how does it matter, if he is capable or not, one has to do what one has to do
E: you're right
V: hmm! waiting! how do we become used to waiting?
E: I don’t know but this is how we are, condemned!
V: are we dreaming? are we hallucinating?
E: haha! man always does it!
V: does what?
E: whenever he is encountered with truth, he seeks refuge in the names of dreams, visions, or hallucinations
V: it is very nihilistic
E: it is like life
V: what we have done, ah! it is futile
E: I told you so
V: it’s silly
E: the play?
V: oh man! it is, but I am not talking about it
E: isn’t life itself is silly?
V: bingo!
E: oh God(ot)! is it?
V: should we break free from it?
E: I want to break free
V: lets us hang ourselves
E: we can’t
V: don’t we have rope
E: haha! we don’t, still, we are tied, but it’s not about the rope
V: so, we have to wait
E: like every day we do
V: to end up the same
E: that’s how we are
V: condemned!
(P.S.:- E and V complement each other and reflect humanity in whole)
link: source
One day, is that enough for you, one day like any other day, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
5/5
May 4, 2025
When he wrote Godot, Samuel Beckett was setting out to Flatten his self and its native habitat into a thin strip of organic material, much as a biologist would slice a strip of life paper-thin, in order to prepare a glass slide for his microscope.
Next, Beckett applied the reductionism of a modern Occam’s Razor (the KISS Principle: ‘keep it simple, stupid!’) to his belief that the universe is absurd.
Henceforth all meaning would become for him and his audience a reductio ad absurdem into sharp Meaninglessness.
Now, it’s funny - but I just realized tonight that I often take a Bachelardian turn with my reviews, and turn the irreducibly hard and fractious facts of my daily life into the soft butter of rêverie through the mediation of imagination and dreaming. That’s my Asperger’s speaking.
I was, you see, wondering how to pound the irréfragable walnut of Beckett into digestible bite-sized morsels. For Beckett - and Godot - are notoriously hard nuts to crack, even if sliced paper-thin. His iron will was irréfragable, as is mine.
So for starters, I turned to memories of James Knowlson’s authorized (Beckett himself blessed it) biography of the Grand Old Absurdist...
In it, we learn a key clue to Godot: Beckett, unlike so many of us avidly introverted readers, was a hard-edged extroverted egghead. He liked his beer blasts during his beloved boys' nights out!
Think of Bertrand Russell.
Like Beckett, he was an extroverted intellectual who worked fiendishly to forget life’s prickly pains and aporias.
Extroverts seem perhaps to have turned out that way largely in an effort to forget private painful emotions.
And Beckett, perhaps similarly to Russell, felt suffocated by the rowdily demonstrative emotions of his Irish family.
So like Stephen Dedalus, he created an escape world of pure intellect. Emotionally, he was running on empty.
Vladimir and Estragon are also running on empty.
They see life as a hopeless dead end. Their affective foils, Pozzo and Lucky, live a sadomasochistic tragicomedy that, because of its emotion, nevertheless always contains hope.
Vladimir and Estragon are extroverted intellectuals who agree with Voltaire when he said life is a comedy to those who think, but a tragedy to those who feel.
Lucky and Pozzo would only respond that life is fullness to those who feel, but emptiness to those who think.
The epochal director Werner Herzog once made a brief film about the deranged Antarctic penguins who abandon their happy friends to venture alone, deep within the subcontinent to certain death. Like Ulysses' fabled Second Voyage.
Who’s right? All depends which side of the fence you’re sitting on. I'm not an intellectual penguin either (I take my Happy Pills on schedule)!
As for me, I’m mostly a Lucky, who’s never given up on life no matter HOW much it hurts. That was the Lord’s way too.
You have to keep moving upward, He tells us. And moreover, nihilism is a sinkhole - an aporetic Slough of Despond. And Herzog and Beckett knew that, but kept travelling into the emptiness within. Are they right?
I think I’ll follow the LORD's way out of this mess, rather than indulge in Beckett’s hollow laughter, on his endless inner voyage -
ANY DAY.
Even though I share Beckett’s flattened but steely simplified self...
For that is the penultimate step before realising the End is Endless -
And eternal, insofar as we give up our unending pursuit of an ultimate impregnable position of rest.
Next, Beckett applied the reductionism of a modern Occam’s Razor (the KISS Principle: ‘keep it simple, stupid!’) to his belief that the universe is absurd.
Henceforth all meaning would become for him and his audience a reductio ad absurdem into sharp Meaninglessness.
Now, it’s funny - but I just realized tonight that I often take a Bachelardian turn with my reviews, and turn the irreducibly hard and fractious facts of my daily life into the soft butter of rêverie through the mediation of imagination and dreaming. That’s my Asperger’s speaking.
I was, you see, wondering how to pound the irréfragable walnut of Beckett into digestible bite-sized morsels. For Beckett - and Godot - are notoriously hard nuts to crack, even if sliced paper-thin. His iron will was irréfragable, as is mine.
So for starters, I turned to memories of James Knowlson’s authorized (Beckett himself blessed it) biography of the Grand Old Absurdist...
In it, we learn a key clue to Godot: Beckett, unlike so many of us avidly introverted readers, was a hard-edged extroverted egghead. He liked his beer blasts during his beloved boys' nights out!
Think of Bertrand Russell.
Like Beckett, he was an extroverted intellectual who worked fiendishly to forget life’s prickly pains and aporias.
Extroverts seem perhaps to have turned out that way largely in an effort to forget private painful emotions.
And Beckett, perhaps similarly to Russell, felt suffocated by the rowdily demonstrative emotions of his Irish family.
So like Stephen Dedalus, he created an escape world of pure intellect. Emotionally, he was running on empty.
Vladimir and Estragon are also running on empty.
They see life as a hopeless dead end. Their affective foils, Pozzo and Lucky, live a sadomasochistic tragicomedy that, because of its emotion, nevertheless always contains hope.
Vladimir and Estragon are extroverted intellectuals who agree with Voltaire when he said life is a comedy to those who think, but a tragedy to those who feel.
Lucky and Pozzo would only respond that life is fullness to those who feel, but emptiness to those who think.
The epochal director Werner Herzog once made a brief film about the deranged Antarctic penguins who abandon their happy friends to venture alone, deep within the subcontinent to certain death. Like Ulysses' fabled Second Voyage.
Who’s right? All depends which side of the fence you’re sitting on. I'm not an intellectual penguin either (I take my Happy Pills on schedule)!
As for me, I’m mostly a Lucky, who’s never given up on life no matter HOW much it hurts. That was the Lord’s way too.
You have to keep moving upward, He tells us. And moreover, nihilism is a sinkhole - an aporetic Slough of Despond. And Herzog and Beckett knew that, but kept travelling into the emptiness within. Are they right?
I think I’ll follow the LORD's way out of this mess, rather than indulge in Beckett’s hollow laughter, on his endless inner voyage -
ANY DAY.
Even though I share Beckett’s flattened but steely simplified self...
For that is the penultimate step before realising the End is Endless -
And eternal, insofar as we give up our unending pursuit of an ultimate impregnable position of rest.
March 22, 2024
WAITING FOR GODOT IN ANTARCTICA
An audience gathers to preview a screening of a new version of this Samuel Beckett play. The directed striped his rendition down to bare existential black and white by filming in Antarctica and using penguins as actors. The problem of dialogue is solved by the technique of voice-over.
In the first act, two penguins stand on bleak, snow-covered ice. There’s a close up of one penguin. The voice-over says, “Nothing to be done.”
The camera slowly scans to the other penguin who waddles next to the first. His voice-over begins, “I’m beginning to come round to that opinion.”
The play continues in this manner. Occasionally, the two penguins rock back and forth in their stark, empty white world. When in the middle of the second act, a third penguin approaches, the two penguins waddle awkwardly to an icy hill and then toboggan on their stomachs down the hill and into the water.
After a soul-searching monologue, the third penguin also toboggans down the hill into the water. At the end of the play the two original penguins rock back and forth. One penguin says, “Well, shall we go swimming again?
The other penguin replies, “Yes, let’s go.”
But the penguins do not move.
January 9, 2026
We are waiting for the main problem of the two beggars. We are waiting for what will never come: a Godot! We wait in vain while sinking into a minimalist decor: a forest, a tree, a rope. Minimalism hides the absurdity of our lives, where only emptiness suffocates us. To breathe again, we furnish this void with actions to break this monotony.
Estragon: What is certain is that time is extended, under these conditions, and pushes us to furnish it with actions [...] (Page 104)
So there you have it, waiting perhaps in hope, but above all, it is a constraint against all freedom, all liberation.
The expectation is hope, but above all, it is masochism.
Estragon: What is certain is that time is extended, under these conditions, and pushes us to furnish it with actions [...] (Page 104)
So there you have it, waiting perhaps in hope, but above all, it is a constraint against all freedom, all liberation.
The expectation is hope, but above all, it is masochism.
September 8, 2022
Aunque es algo habitual en este tipo de textos, no deja de ser curiosa la cantidad y variedad de interpretaciones a la que se presta la obra, solo hay que leer los comentarios de los compañeros y compañeras de goodreads, entre los que se defienden posiciones a veces radicalmente opuestas. Ahí es donde, pienso yo, radica la gran popularidad de la que goza: al igual que una imagen del test de Rorschach, la obra se metamorfosea en aquello que le importa a cada lector.
Pero, ¿cuál es la interpretación correcta? No creo que se pueda hablar en estos términos. ¿Correcta es la interpretación que coincide con el propósito del autor? Si es así, tenemos un problema. Beckett, con toda la inteligencia del mundo, nunca quiso aclarar el sentido de la obra más allá de negar a Dios como el ser que figura detrás del personaje de Godot, lo que no ha impedido nunca que infinidad de lectores sigan haciendo dicha correspondencia.
Obviamente, yo también tengo mi interpretación a esta mancha de Rorschach.
POZZO: Díganme el medio de ser breve y claro al mismo tiempo. Déjenme reflexionar.Intentaré acabar antes:
ESTRAGON: Sea locuaz, así acabará antes.
Yo no soy uno de los que ven a Dios detrás de Godot, como tampoco me encuentro entre los que piensan que el propósito de la obra sea denunciar el absurdo de la existencia humana, ni su falta de propósito, ni su vacío, ni la ausencia de salida, ni pienso, por supuesto, que la obra sea un mero absurdo sin pies ni cabeza como símbolo del sinsentido del destino humano. Mi opinión es que “Esperando a Godot” nos dice, nos grita, justo lo contrario: ACTÚA, NO ESPERES A GODOT.
La obra es absurda como absurdo ha sido, es, y seguramente será, el comportamiento del ser humano, un comportamiento que no responde a un destino sino a una ignorante elección.
ESTRAGÓN.- La gente es estúpida.La obra critica precisamente que la historia de la humanidad haya sido la historia de una espera, de una espera sin recompensa. Generación tras generación se ha procedido de la misma forma, sin aprender, sin recordar lo que se hizo ayer, donde se estuvo y, claro está, sin saber dónde se estará mañana ni lo que se hará más allá de... sí, eso precisamente, esperar a Godot. Toda la historia de la humanidad no ha sido más que un trágico círculo recorrido un millón de veces. No es, por tanto, un relato sobre el callejón sin salida que se establece entre la desesperación y el cálido refugio de los dioses, es una llamada a la acción, a volver a recuperar nuestros derechos:
ESTRAGON: ¿Ya no tenemos derechos?Hay que rebelarse ante el poderoso, darse cuenta de que el poderoso depende absolutamente del siervo; hasta el poderoso debe despertar del sueño de sus razonamientos injusta y patéticamente justificativos.
VLADIMIR: Me harías reír, si me estuviera permitido.
ESTRAGON: ¿Los hemos perdido?
VLADIMIR: Los hemos vendido.
POZZO: Trata de inspirarme piedad para que no me separe de él... Cree que, viéndole tan eficaz cargador, le emplearé como tal en el futuro... Cree que al verle infatigable, me arrepentiré de mi decisión. Tal es su lamentable cálculo. Como si me faltasen peones... Piensan que yo hubiera podido estar en su lugar y él en el mío. Si el azar no se hubiera opuesto. A cada cual lo suyo... en lugar de ponerle de patitas en la calle, es tal mi bondad que lo llevo al mercado de San Salvador, en donde espero sacar algo de él. Lo cierto es que a seres como éste no se les puede echar. Para hacerlo bien, sería necesario matarles.Los Vladimir tiene que darse cuenta de que no es cierto que lo único que se pueda hacer es ocupar la espera;
VLADIMIR: Con esto hemos pasado el ratolos Estragón deben tener el coraje de desligarse de los Vladimir; y ambos deben de dejar de conformarse con juegos de palabras, paradojas y discusiones bizantinas que les alejen del enfrentamiento con su condición, ambos deben optar por la valentía del movimiento;
ESTRAGON: Hubiera pasado igual de todos modos.
VLADIMIR: Sí, pero menos rápido.
ESTRAGON: ¿Y qué hacemos ahora?Tampoco hay que excusarse en atávicos pecados originales.
VLADIMIR: No sé.
ESTRAGON: Vayámonos.
VLADIMIR: No podemos.
ESTRAGON: ¿Por qué?
VLADIMIR: Esperamos a Godot.
ESTRAGON: Es cierto.
ESTRAGON: Habría que volver de una vez a la naturaleza.Ni en la fugacidad de la existencia.
VLADIMIR: Lo hemos intentado.
ESTRAGON: Es cierto.
VLADIMIR: Oh, lo peor es eso, desde luego.
ESTRAGON: Entonces, ¿qué es?
VLADIMIR: Haber pensado.
ESTRAGON: Evidentemente.
POZZO: un día nacimos, un día moriremos, el mismo día, el mismo instante, ¿no le basta? Dan a luz a caballo sobre una tumba, el día brilla por un instante, y, después, de nuevo la noche.Ni echar la culpa a la época en la que nos ha tocado vivir, ni enredarnos con las palabras.
POZZO:No hablemos mal de nuestra época, no es peor que las pasadas. (Silencio) Pero tampoco hablemos bien. (Silencio) No hablemos.No hay que parapetarse tras una condición humana inamovible
ESTRAGON: Entretanto, intentemos hablar sin exaltarnos, ya que somos incapaces de callarnos.
VLADIMIR: Es cierto, somos incansables.
ESTRAGON: Es para no pensar.
VLADIMIR: Tenemos justificación.
ESTRAGON: Es para no escuchar.
VLADIMIR: Tenemos nuestras razones.
ESTRAGON: Todas las voces muertas.
VLADIMIR: Hacen ruido de alas.
(...)
VLADIMIR: No les basta haber vivido.
ESTRAGON: Necesitan hablar de ella.
VLADIMIR: No les basta con estar muertas.
ESTRAGON: No es suficiente.
VLADIMIR: No se puede hacer nada.En definitiva:
ESTRAGON: Es inútil esforzarse.
VLADIMIR: Uno sigue siendo lo que es.
ESTRAGON: Por mucho que se retuerza.
VLADIMIR: El fondo no cambia.
ESTRAGON: Nada que hacer.
NO PREGUNTES QUÉ PUEDE HACER GODOT POR TI; PREGÚNTATE QUÉ PUEDES HACER TÚ POR TI, POR TODOS.
February 28, 2019
من زیاد نمایشنامه نخوندم، ولی این، یکی از بهترین هایی بوده که خوندم.
بکت در این نمایشنامه، بشر را به تصویر میکشد که زندگی اش، در انتظار آرمان هایی که نه می شناسد و نه برای رسید بهشان تلاشی می کند، می پوسد و زنگ می زند. بکت این درونمایه ی تلخ را، در یک طنز آبسورد می گنجاند.
ولادیمیر و استراگون، دو دوستند که هر روز، پای درختی در انتظار گودو می نشینند. گودو، آرمان و آرزوی آن هاست؛ ولی آنان به یاد ندارند که کی و کجا این گودو آرمانشان شده و حتی از او چه می خواهند؟
روزها انتظار، باعث پیر شدنشان می شود. روز دوم استراگون پیوسته می گوید: "برویم."
ولادیمیر: "نمی توانیم."
استراگون: "چرا نمی توانیم؟"
ولادیمیر: "در انتظار گودو ایم."
و استراگون پیوسته با نومیدی آه می کشد: گودو، آرزو و آرمان دیروزیِ آن ها، امروز بند و قفل آن ها شده و فردا، کابوس سهمگین آن ها خواهد شد. گودویی که شاید هرگز نیاید.
جالب است که هیچ یک به فکرشان نمی رسد تلاشی برای یافتن و رسیدن به گودو بکنند. پسرکی که پیک گودو است را دنبال نمی کنند تا به خانه ی او برسند. از کسی نشان او را نمی خواهند. از دست یابی به او، تنها به انتظار اکتفا کرده اند. حتّا برای پایان این انتظار، دست به خودکشی نمی زنند. خودکشی را موکول به فردا می کنند. همان طور که همه ی حرکت ها و عمل های دیگر به فردا موکول شده است. فردایی که هرگز نخواهد آمد.
October 30, 2022
I read this book while hang-gliding over the coast of Liechtenstein. It was difficult to grip the jacket of the book, not only because I was airborne, but because the night before I was in Moscow having vodka and gasoline with Luis San Baptista Rodolfo Sr., a ex-foot soldier for the Revolutionary FALN, and my head was POUNDING! I told Luis over a dinner (red cabbage over braised Skeletor Dolls) I had never seen the last episode of Family Ties, and he instantly grew furious, and cried out, "Matushka! Matushka! My cauliflower is on fire!" and thrust a copy of "Waiting for Godot" into my pocket, and whispered into my big toe, "Listen, my friend, I only have a credit card, so I put on my visa and you give me cash, no?"
I immediately understood Luis' implicit instructions: the only proper way to read Beckett truly, to feel the power of his words, is to do so while manning non-mechanical aircraft.
At first, I found Beckett's dramatic universe too glib, even watery, like a Burmese jungle cat. I found the dialogue too reliant upon the use of words. I thought the use of characters instead of sandwiches or tuxedos was trite and derivative. I also found the verdant pastures of Liechtenstein simply enchanting from an aerial point of view. Several times, I found myself questioning my decision to question my decision to use McDonald's wrappers from the Basque Region for the material of my hang-glider's wings, but then I realized, that's the point: having no discernible narrative thru-line is STILL a narrative thru-line all the same. Beckett's brilliance touched me at last. (But without permission, so I'm suing him in the Hague.)
So, I'm giving this a 5. Not a strong five. But not a weak five either. The sort of 5 that actively worked out for the high school rugby team, but then spent college taking it easy, drinking Irish Car Bombs, and now, years later plays Ultimate Frisbee on the weekends and sometimes runs in Central Park in the evenings, if not doing Bikram Yoga in Soho.
I immediately understood Luis' implicit instructions: the only proper way to read Beckett truly, to feel the power of his words, is to do so while manning non-mechanical aircraft.
At first, I found Beckett's dramatic universe too glib, even watery, like a Burmese jungle cat. I found the dialogue too reliant upon the use of words. I thought the use of characters instead of sandwiches or tuxedos was trite and derivative. I also found the verdant pastures of Liechtenstein simply enchanting from an aerial point of view. Several times, I found myself questioning my decision to question my decision to use McDonald's wrappers from the Basque Region for the material of my hang-glider's wings, but then I realized, that's the point: having no discernible narrative thru-line is STILL a narrative thru-line all the same. Beckett's brilliance touched me at last. (But without permission, so I'm suing him in the Hague.)
So, I'm giving this a 5. Not a strong five. But not a weak five either. The sort of 5 that actively worked out for the high school rugby team, but then spent college taking it easy, drinking Irish Car Bombs, and now, years later plays Ultimate Frisbee on the weekends and sometimes runs in Central Park in the evenings, if not doing Bikram Yoga in Soho.
February 22, 2023
“Let's go."
"We can't."
"Why not?"
"We're waiting for Godot.”
Samuel Beckett, though known for being one of the bleakest writers ever, was a big fan of American film comedians, including the sadsack Buster Keaton. Here’s a short film, 21 minutes long, “the Goat:” (Oh, come on, just look at it for a minute!)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6kE2...
And here's another short film where Keaton and Beckett collaborated! (Thanks, Ean!):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjdXi...
but also Laurel and Hardy, who I have always thought were a kind of model for the hapless and lovable Didi and Gogo. Here’s a 20-minute L&H film, “Helpmates” (1932) in case you had never heard of them or doubt there is a connection: (see above, watch a minute, and I also note there's a new film based on them just released)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YPhY...
And there also is a hat exchange scene in the play that almost surely owes something to the famous Marx Brothers' “mirror scene” which, if you haven’t seen it, takes 3:21 to see some genius old-time comedy:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_fmU...
Oh, the play, you ask? One of the classics of world literature, probably the single text that earned him the Nobel Prize in Literature, a play that he calls a tragi-comedy, and it does seem to ride on that razor edge between comedy and tragedy. Written in 1948, just three years after the end of WWII, with bombed cities all around (as now in Ukraine) it features two tramps, Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) who mainly just, yup, sit around and wait for Godot. And talk with each other.
“They also serve who only stand and wait” (Milton)? Maybe, but in this play it is not clear who Godot is, or why they are waiting for him. Some speculate Godot is really God, but Beckett denied this, said he had no idea why people would think that, and I may just believe him. There is some discussion of religion in the play, though, as a way people try to make sense of the world.
The setting is spare, with a single bare tree on the set. What do they do? They mainly talk to pass the time:
“Words, words, words. . .”
And I like the playfulness:
Yes, let’s abuse each other!
Moron!
Vermin!
Abortion!
Morpion!
Sewer-rat!
Curate!
Cretin!
Critic!
Oh!
He wilts, vanquished, and turns away.
Well, that passed the time.
It was passing, anyway.
But it made it pass more quickly.
So they converse. They are friends, and they pluckily support each other in their poverty and bleak circumstances. They also meet Pozzo and his slave, Lucky, where we see a contrast to their supportive relationship, a power relationship, one of cruelty. An allegory of choices for us? Fascism vs. the Allied Forces that defeated it? Maybe! But Gogo and Didi persist and prevail, together. Not much happens, but they present an image of steadfastness in the face of serious challenges. Inspirational, I say. Or, since they only wait, and do not leave, it could be seen as hopeless, as a kind of nihilist stasis! Dystopian allegory, a precursor to Cormac McCarthy's father-son story, The Road?
One thing the play is about, I think, is how they got to this dystopian desert of a place. One thing it is about is language, which we sometimes see as the flower of humankind, yet in all its glory it did not help us prevent the Holocaust. Another thing the play is about is rationality, or thinking, the very foundation of science and technological accomplishment, that also did not prevent Nagasaki and Hiroshima. And so Beckett makes absurd fun at times here of this much-revered human process, thinking, and what it (in 1948) has amounted to, in part demonstrated in Lucky’s unpunctuated stream-of-consciousness soliloquy, which it turns out is absurd.
But this play finally presents two equally possible directions for humankind:
Hope: “Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. . . To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!”
Or despair: “Nothing to be done.”
Does Beckett choose? Does he make a final judgement? Have we descended as a human race into evil, at last? Here he seems to say it could go either way: “The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors.”
More fascist tendencies now, climate apocalypse, millions of refugees in increasing numbers and desperation, Putin and all the insane political extremism everywhere, and so on. You decide. Because you need to decide to act and not just talk. Or maybe you just ignore everything and keep doing what you do, in a kind of paralysis.
Though I personally think he does finally choose hope, in the very image of friends Didi and Gogo.
"We can't."
"Why not?"
"We're waiting for Godot.”
Samuel Beckett, though known for being one of the bleakest writers ever, was a big fan of American film comedians, including the sadsack Buster Keaton. Here’s a short film, 21 minutes long, “the Goat:” (Oh, come on, just look at it for a minute!)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6kE2...
And here's another short film where Keaton and Beckett collaborated! (Thanks, Ean!):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjdXi...
but also Laurel and Hardy, who I have always thought were a kind of model for the hapless and lovable Didi and Gogo. Here’s a 20-minute L&H film, “Helpmates” (1932) in case you had never heard of them or doubt there is a connection: (see above, watch a minute, and I also note there's a new film based on them just released)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YPhY...
And there also is a hat exchange scene in the play that almost surely owes something to the famous Marx Brothers' “mirror scene” which, if you haven’t seen it, takes 3:21 to see some genius old-time comedy:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_fmU...
Oh, the play, you ask? One of the classics of world literature, probably the single text that earned him the Nobel Prize in Literature, a play that he calls a tragi-comedy, and it does seem to ride on that razor edge between comedy and tragedy. Written in 1948, just three years after the end of WWII, with bombed cities all around (as now in Ukraine) it features two tramps, Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) who mainly just, yup, sit around and wait for Godot. And talk with each other.
“They also serve who only stand and wait” (Milton)? Maybe, but in this play it is not clear who Godot is, or why they are waiting for him. Some speculate Godot is really God, but Beckett denied this, said he had no idea why people would think that, and I may just believe him. There is some discussion of religion in the play, though, as a way people try to make sense of the world.
The setting is spare, with a single bare tree on the set. What do they do? They mainly talk to pass the time:
“Words, words, words. . .”
And I like the playfulness:
Yes, let’s abuse each other!
Moron!
Vermin!
Abortion!
Morpion!
Sewer-rat!
Curate!
Cretin!
Critic!
Oh!
He wilts, vanquished, and turns away.
Well, that passed the time.
It was passing, anyway.
But it made it pass more quickly.
So they converse. They are friends, and they pluckily support each other in their poverty and bleak circumstances. They also meet Pozzo and his slave, Lucky, where we see a contrast to their supportive relationship, a power relationship, one of cruelty. An allegory of choices for us? Fascism vs. the Allied Forces that defeated it? Maybe! But Gogo and Didi persist and prevail, together. Not much happens, but they present an image of steadfastness in the face of serious challenges. Inspirational, I say. Or, since they only wait, and do not leave, it could be seen as hopeless, as a kind of nihilist stasis! Dystopian allegory, a precursor to Cormac McCarthy's father-son story, The Road?
One thing the play is about, I think, is how they got to this dystopian desert of a place. One thing it is about is language, which we sometimes see as the flower of humankind, yet in all its glory it did not help us prevent the Holocaust. Another thing the play is about is rationality, or thinking, the very foundation of science and technological accomplishment, that also did not prevent Nagasaki and Hiroshima. And so Beckett makes absurd fun at times here of this much-revered human process, thinking, and what it (in 1948) has amounted to, in part demonstrated in Lucky’s unpunctuated stream-of-consciousness soliloquy, which it turns out is absurd.
But this play finally presents two equally possible directions for humankind:
Hope: “Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. . . To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!”
Or despair: “Nothing to be done.”
Does Beckett choose? Does he make a final judgement? Have we descended as a human race into evil, at last? Here he seems to say it could go either way: “The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. Let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors.”
More fascist tendencies now, climate apocalypse, millions of refugees in increasing numbers and desperation, Putin and all the insane political extremism everywhere, and so on. You decide. Because you need to decide to act and not just talk. Or maybe you just ignore everything and keep doing what you do, in a kind of paralysis.
Though I personally think he does finally choose hope, in the very image of friends Didi and Gogo.
July 21, 2019
Waiting for Godot is a powerful allegory of human life and religion – we spend our time waiting and then one day we die. Waiting is a bore but it is much easier and safer to wait than to do.
Are we all thieves waiting for salvation? Or do we wait for someone who would resolve all our insignificant problems?
One of the thieves was saved. It's a reasonable percentage.
Are we all thieves waiting for salvation? Or do we wait for someone who would resolve all our insignificant problems?
September 19, 2025
The dilemma of being human:
Why does it happen at all?
Where do we go when it ends?
The perpetual struggle between hope and despair.
Sincere and heartwarming in an odd sort of way.
Why does it happen at all?
Where do we go when it ends?
The perpetual struggle between hope and despair.
Sincere and heartwarming in an odd sort of way.
January 15, 2018
A nice homage would be to write nothing.
*
That is what I wrote this afternoon. Before that, a friend told me to write something. He was so sure that I could. I am never sure about what I can or cannot do. But he thought so. That was nice.
Nothing much happened after that, until another kind friend paid this review a visit and said "to wait". And "if he does not show up tomorrow..." Well, what is to be done then? There are messengers that assured me he would come. I will keep waiting. Contemplating the same places, the same scenarios, over and over, until I can predict the entire world. Never neglect the little things of life.
And then I think. And then, some more. Do I really want to keep waiting?
I wonder if I even have that choice.
Then, a beautiful woman with a quick mind that could leave you staring at your shoes, utterly perplexed, came along. She told me that I comprehended an author with finesse. I thanked her, of course. But... did I? In the middle of this constant—and often tiresome—analysis that I cannot escape from, can I even begin to grasp the concept of anything at all?
There is meaning, somewhere. But I fear it will keep evading our presence until... Ah. Choose the metaphor you like. This is getting alarming.
A couple of minutes later, another lovely woman said that this was clever. I am not sure of that since I believe Goodreads would delete this in a heartbeat. But, oh well. Nothing to be done.
The second I finished writing this, a third woman, equally stunning and of enviable wits, appeared. This good friend that I so admire, asked me something like "Can we keep waiting even when he makes an appearance?" And that made me ponder. Are we prepared for such a visit? Us, simple mortals, are we ready to face that kind of revelation? We are still waiting by that tree. Still complaining about so much waiting. But I wouldn't know what to do if... I may be mistaken , though. I have the feeling I thought about this yesterday. Not sure what day is today but I definitely thought about this... yesterday. God. Either I forget immediately or I never forget.
I was about to leave when another kind man approached and left a lovely comment about the quality of this review. I often disagree but that is how my head functions. And it is always nice to read that, so I thanked him. It's the normal thing.
After some time—do not know how much time since I can never measure it—another friend stopped by. He was asking when to read a certain book. He was not waiting for Godot, he was waiting for the right time. Oh. That might just be him...
No. Ah, yes. Time. That unforgiving time that refuses to stop. Time flows, always. Always the minutes. Always the decades. Even if we remain in the same place, with the same glance, the same companionship: ourselves. I would like that friend to read this book as soon as possible. But I do not own the proper words to convince him. Hell, I do not own any word. They own me; a powerless captive. So, I think, I believe, I cannot say much.
We wait... A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's go to work! In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!
Or worse, we won't be here at all.
...you have to decide , my friend.
Later, another friend came along and said that this review was his favorite of the year so far. And I thought that was a lovely compliment. The problem is that I kept thinking. And analyzing. And in further reflection I said to myself, “okay, I know I cannot measure time, I know that I am not sure if I am still living a yesterday or I am already living my tomorrow because this permanent sense of ennui that fills each day makes me forget everything, but I am aware that the year has just started.” And here we are, standing on this immense world with a myriad of possibilities and its inexorable absurdity haunting us everyday—an absurdity that allows anything to happen—so the fact that this review full of nonsense is someone's favorite of the year that has just begun, made me think. A better one might be written tomorrow. Or in a minute. And then, that's it. Ah. Stop thinking. All I know is that the hours are long, under these conditions. ... Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! I will make sure to say this as soon as I see this friend. Because days will pass and time will pass and things must be said.
...the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more. But that endless process does not apply to our ephemeral nature.
"Lovely musings", another friend wrote a couple of minutes ago. But when you think about it, there's nothing much to do, really. We are always looking for something new. Something else. Nothing much for me to find. It'd pass the time , they say. I haven't met anyone yet with the ability of breaking that vicious circle. We are here to spend time... And watch the sky as it changes its colors. A constant feeling of another day done with . We want to move, we say we'll go, we stay right here, like a not so lucky man with a rope around his neck.
Honestly. One is not master of one's mood.
As I was about to conclude with this illogical ode to the absurd, this dull melody that echoes the unpredictable nature of things and the tiresome search for what we are not meant to know, two more friends came along. The first one claimed to have seen him, the reason of it all. Apparently, he was trying to remember something. And at a cafe, no less! Whereas some of us are part of this useless but inevitable seek of meaning in life, trying to fill the gaps with something that might embody some source of comfort rather than simply embrace such absurdity of existence, hope for nothing and achieve a sense of freedom—if not freedom itself—Godot is passing the time at a cafe, completely unaware of our existence and our strong desire to meet him, as we see our days go by. Days that no longer perceive a different color. ...habit is a great deadener.
The last friend recommended me to watch the play that introduced me to these people that were waiting for Godot. And then mentioned another one. I cannot think of a better ending to this preposterous review. To postpone for a while this awfully exhausting search for meaning and enjoy another play that will probably make me think of that search almost immediately.
Human nature, my friend.
To be continued.
If you write.
Jan 12, 16
* Also on my blog.
*
That is what I wrote this afternoon. Before that, a friend told me to write something. He was so sure that I could. I am never sure about what I can or cannot do. But he thought so. That was nice.
Nothing much happened after that, until another kind friend paid this review a visit and said "to wait". And "if he does not show up tomorrow..." Well, what is to be done then? There are messengers that assured me he would come. I will keep waiting. Contemplating the same places, the same scenarios, over and over, until I can predict the entire world. Never neglect the little things of life.
And then I think. And then, some more. Do I really want to keep waiting?
I wonder if I even have that choice.
Then, a beautiful woman with a quick mind that could leave you staring at your shoes, utterly perplexed, came along. She told me that I comprehended an author with finesse. I thanked her, of course. But... did I? In the middle of this constant—and often tiresome—analysis that I cannot escape from, can I even begin to grasp the concept of anything at all?
There is meaning, somewhere. But I fear it will keep evading our presence until... Ah. Choose the metaphor you like. This is getting alarming.
A couple of minutes later, another lovely woman said that this was clever. I am not sure of that since I believe Goodreads would delete this in a heartbeat. But, oh well. Nothing to be done.
The second I finished writing this, a third woman, equally stunning and of enviable wits, appeared. This good friend that I so admire, asked me something like "Can we keep waiting even when he makes an appearance?" And that made me ponder. Are we prepared for such a visit? Us, simple mortals, are we ready to face that kind of revelation? We are still waiting by that tree. Still complaining about so much waiting. But I wouldn't know what to do if... I may be mistaken , though. I have the feeling I thought about this yesterday. Not sure what day is today but I definitely thought about this... yesterday. God. Either I forget immediately or I never forget.
I was about to leave when another kind man approached and left a lovely comment about the quality of this review. I often disagree but that is how my head functions. And it is always nice to read that, so I thanked him. It's the normal thing.
After some time—do not know how much time since I can never measure it—another friend stopped by. He was asking when to read a certain book. He was not waiting for Godot, he was waiting for the right time. Oh. That might just be him...
No. Ah, yes. Time. That unforgiving time that refuses to stop. Time flows, always. Always the minutes. Always the decades. Even if we remain in the same place, with the same glance, the same companionship: ourselves. I would like that friend to read this book as soon as possible. But I do not own the proper words to convince him. Hell, I do not own any word. They own me; a powerless captive. So, I think, I believe, I cannot say much.
We wait... A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's go to work! In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!
Or worse, we won't be here at all.
...you have to decide , my friend.
Later, another friend came along and said that this review was his favorite of the year so far. And I thought that was a lovely compliment. The problem is that I kept thinking. And analyzing. And in further reflection I said to myself, “okay, I know I cannot measure time, I know that I am not sure if I am still living a yesterday or I am already living my tomorrow because this permanent sense of ennui that fills each day makes me forget everything, but I am aware that the year has just started.” And here we are, standing on this immense world with a myriad of possibilities and its inexorable absurdity haunting us everyday—an absurdity that allows anything to happen—so the fact that this review full of nonsense is someone's favorite of the year that has just begun, made me think. A better one might be written tomorrow. Or in a minute. And then, that's it. Ah. Stop thinking. All I know is that the hours are long, under these conditions. ... Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! I will make sure to say this as soon as I see this friend. Because days will pass and time will pass and things must be said.
...the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more. But that endless process does not apply to our ephemeral nature.
"Lovely musings", another friend wrote a couple of minutes ago. But when you think about it, there's nothing much to do, really. We are always looking for something new. Something else. Nothing much for me to find. It'd pass the time , they say. I haven't met anyone yet with the ability of breaking that vicious circle. We are here to spend time... And watch the sky as it changes its colors. A constant feeling of another day done with . We want to move, we say we'll go, we stay right here, like a not so lucky man with a rope around his neck.
Honestly. One is not master of one's mood.
As I was about to conclude with this illogical ode to the absurd, this dull melody that echoes the unpredictable nature of things and the tiresome search for what we are not meant to know, two more friends came along. The first one claimed to have seen him, the reason of it all. Apparently, he was trying to remember something. And at a cafe, no less! Whereas some of us are part of this useless but inevitable seek of meaning in life, trying to fill the gaps with something that might embody some source of comfort rather than simply embrace such absurdity of existence, hope for nothing and achieve a sense of freedom—if not freedom itself—Godot is passing the time at a cafe, completely unaware of our existence and our strong desire to meet him, as we see our days go by. Days that no longer perceive a different color. ...habit is a great deadener.
The last friend recommended me to watch the play that introduced me to these people that were waiting for Godot. And then mentioned another one. I cannot think of a better ending to this preposterous review. To postpone for a while this awfully exhausting search for meaning and enjoy another play that will probably make me think of that search almost immediately.
Human nature, my friend.
If you write.
Jan 12, 16
* Also on my blog.
September 28, 2017
Waiting for Godot still waits for a review. I wonder if it will ever come. While pondering on the possibility of a review, I think about whether I liked it or not. I can't even say that, so technically, ...
... I am still waiting ... for the rating ... as well ...
It is in the stars. I added some for decoration. They are quite meaningless, but yellow dots please my Scandinavian eyes.
It is about nothing, really. But Nothing was already taken by Henry Green - and also filled with so much of everything - that Samuel Beckett probably thought he'd wait and see if he could find a better title than nothing. While waiting, he gave it a working title, and that's what the play turned into. The process became the end product, and the waiting for something became something of its own.
As for the characters. They talk, therefore they are.
One of them asks me:
"Are you ready to write?"
And I say: "Yes, let's write!"
But I don't move.
... I am still waiting ... for the rating ... as well ...
It is in the stars. I added some for decoration. They are quite meaningless, but yellow dots please my Scandinavian eyes.
It is about nothing, really. But Nothing was already taken by Henry Green - and also filled with so much of everything - that Samuel Beckett probably thought he'd wait and see if he could find a better title than nothing. While waiting, he gave it a working title, and that's what the play turned into. The process became the end product, and the waiting for something became something of its own.
As for the characters. They talk, therefore they are.
One of them asks me:
"Are you ready to write?"
And I say: "Yes, let's write!"
But I don't move.
reviews-of-books-i-didnt-read
October 1, 2014Review revived again to mark the three month anniversary of the Top Lists being frozen....
***
As you know, the votes we strive for and crawl across barbed wire for and win oh so slowly and painfully are the only way we reviewers can tell we're still alive. We need the hit that only weekly Top Lists can give us. And yes, you could describe the inexplicable absence of up to date Top Reviewer and Best Review Lists as a "first world problem" if you were being really mean, but still, reviewers are people too... Let Samuel Beckett explain further.
*****
ESTRAGON : Stuff this for a game of soldiers. Let's go.
VLADIMIR : We can't go.
ESTRAGON : Why not?
VLADIMIR : We're waiting for the Top Lists to be displayed correctly, remember?
ESTRAGON : Oh those.
VLADIMIR : Yes, those. Without the Top Lists we don't know who's top and who's - well, bottom. The world is chaos. Which review is best? Which made it in the mad-salmon-dash up the goodreads river of reviews to spawn in the sun?
ESTRAGON : You're very poetical tonight. Did you eat something that disagreed with you?
VLADIMIR : We must have the votes correctly tallied. It says so in the Bible.
ESTRAGON : But the vote counter is broken.
VLADIMIR : (sighs. Gives up trying to unlace his boot.) Yes, the vote counter is broken.
ESTRAGON : It's a sign.
VLADIMIR : It is a sign. But we have to wait.
ESTRAGON : What for?
VLADIMIR : For the vote counter to be fixed. We must.
ESTRAGON : I could go, you could wait. I think I left something in the oven.
VLADIMIR : You'll be back. Us sort, we have to wait.
ESTRAGON : For the vote counter to be fixed.
VLADIMIR : Yes. But we know it never will be fixed.
ESTRAGON : Yes. But we have to wait even so.
VLADIMIR : We should ask Rivka.
RIVKA (appearing from a cloud) : There is a bug. We have identified it. It will be fixed. But not yet.
ESTRAGON : See? I told you. It's hopeless.
VLADIMIR : No, not hopeless. But there is no hope.
***
As you know, the votes we strive for and crawl across barbed wire for and win oh so slowly and painfully are the only way we reviewers can tell we're still alive. We need the hit that only weekly Top Lists can give us. And yes, you could describe the inexplicable absence of up to date Top Reviewer and Best Review Lists as a "first world problem" if you were being really mean, but still, reviewers are people too... Let Samuel Beckett explain further.
*****
ESTRAGON : Stuff this for a game of soldiers. Let's go.
VLADIMIR : We can't go.
ESTRAGON : Why not?
VLADIMIR : We're waiting for the Top Lists to be displayed correctly, remember?
ESTRAGON : Oh those.
VLADIMIR : Yes, those. Without the Top Lists we don't know who's top and who's - well, bottom. The world is chaos. Which review is best? Which made it in the mad-salmon-dash up the goodreads river of reviews to spawn in the sun?
ESTRAGON : You're very poetical tonight. Did you eat something that disagreed with you?
VLADIMIR : We must have the votes correctly tallied. It says so in the Bible.
ESTRAGON : But the vote counter is broken.
VLADIMIR : (sighs. Gives up trying to unlace his boot.) Yes, the vote counter is broken.
ESTRAGON : It's a sign.
VLADIMIR : It is a sign. But we have to wait.
ESTRAGON : What for?
VLADIMIR : For the vote counter to be fixed. We must.
ESTRAGON : I could go, you could wait. I think I left something in the oven.
VLADIMIR : You'll be back. Us sort, we have to wait.
ESTRAGON : For the vote counter to be fixed.
VLADIMIR : Yes. But we know it never will be fixed.
ESTRAGON : Yes. But we have to wait even so.
VLADIMIR : We should ask Rivka.
RIVKA (appearing from a cloud) : There is a bug. We have identified it. It will be fixed. But not yet.
ESTRAGON : See? I told you. It's hopeless.
VLADIMIR : No, not hopeless. But there is no hope.
February 18, 2024
PASSARE IL TEMPO
Il film francese di Emmanuel Courcol (2020).
L’occasione per due parole intorno al capolavoro di Samuel Beckett mi è offerta da un film francese che ho visto di recente.
Film francese (Un triomphe – The Big Hit – Un anno con Godot) che si ispira a un fatto successo in Svezia nel 1985: cinque detenuti, impegnati dal carcere come attori di teatro, approfittarono di una replica teatrale per evadere.
Fatto che aveva già ispirato un film svedese del 1999: Vägen ut – Breaking Out, del quale è possibile esista anche un remake americano.
Il film francese parte da un attore in cattive acque – l’unico lavoro che sembra avere è insegnare l’haka maori a dirigenti e impiegati di qualche azienda, scena che fa ridere ma mette anche alquanta tristezza – che accetta di sostituire un collega nell’incarico di insegnare recitazione ai detenuti.
Che sono cinque, poi diventano sei – ma uno lascia il posto a un altro.
Il nostro attore si inventa dunque regista, pur non avendolo mai fatto. Ma un po’ di esperienza l'ha messa insieme lasciandosi dirigere da altri. E forse è arrivato il momento di togliersi qualche sassolino dalla scarpa.
Capisce presto che l’occasione per fare qualcosa di diverso, di meritevole, di rimarchevole è ghiotta: e così, appena possible sostituisce il testo di studio e pratica, dalle favole di La Fontaine ad Aspettando Godot. Ottima scelta.
Certo, conoscere il testo di Beckett aiuta: perché è più facile fare il collegamento tra i vagabondi del drammaturgo irlandese (errante proprio come il suo concittadino Joyce) e i detenuti, tra l’assurdità della vita di chi aspetta Godot – che non arriva mai, ed è più che probabile che chi lo aspetta, non lo conosca affatto, questo Godot – e l’assurdità della vita carceraria, che è basata sull’attesa. Attesa quotidiana: del pasto, dell’ora d’aria, delle visite, della posta. Attesa della fine della pena, attesa della liberazione.
A ben guardare anche la ripetitività di gesti e parole della coppia di vagabondi Vladimiro ed Estragone rispecchia l’immobilità e reiterazione esasperata della vita dietro le sbarre.
Il film francese m’è parso perfetto per come rispetta i canoni del genere (o, sottogenere). Per come sa toccare la giusta corda al momento giusto. Il cast è ottimo: nessuna star, tutti azzeccati, bravi e convincenti.
Forse c’è un po’ d’accumulo, un po’ troppe vicende personali. Tutto il contrario dell’approccio scarno di Beckett, che probabilmente direbbe, Meno è meglio. Ma un palcoscenico è luogo diverso da uno schermo.
Quando raccontarono a Beckett quello che era successo in Svezia, il premio Nobel fu contento e commentò che gli sembrava un finale perfetto.
Il film svedese di Daniel Lind Lagerlöf (1999).
Il film francese di Emmanuel Courcol (2020).
L’occasione per due parole intorno al capolavoro di Samuel Beckett mi è offerta da un film francese che ho visto di recente.
Film francese (Un triomphe – The Big Hit – Un anno con Godot) che si ispira a un fatto successo in Svezia nel 1985: cinque detenuti, impegnati dal carcere come attori di teatro, approfittarono di una replica teatrale per evadere.
Fatto che aveva già ispirato un film svedese del 1999: Vägen ut – Breaking Out, del quale è possibile esista anche un remake americano.
Il film francese parte da un attore in cattive acque – l’unico lavoro che sembra avere è insegnare l’haka maori a dirigenti e impiegati di qualche azienda, scena che fa ridere ma mette anche alquanta tristezza – che accetta di sostituire un collega nell’incarico di insegnare recitazione ai detenuti.
Che sono cinque, poi diventano sei – ma uno lascia il posto a un altro.
Il nostro attore si inventa dunque regista, pur non avendolo mai fatto. Ma un po’ di esperienza l'ha messa insieme lasciandosi dirigere da altri. E forse è arrivato il momento di togliersi qualche sassolino dalla scarpa.
Capisce presto che l’occasione per fare qualcosa di diverso, di meritevole, di rimarchevole è ghiotta: e così, appena possible sostituisce il testo di studio e pratica, dalle favole di La Fontaine ad Aspettando Godot. Ottima scelta.
Certo, conoscere il testo di Beckett aiuta: perché è più facile fare il collegamento tra i vagabondi del drammaturgo irlandese (errante proprio come il suo concittadino Joyce) e i detenuti, tra l’assurdità della vita di chi aspetta Godot – che non arriva mai, ed è più che probabile che chi lo aspetta, non lo conosca affatto, questo Godot – e l’assurdità della vita carceraria, che è basata sull’attesa. Attesa quotidiana: del pasto, dell’ora d’aria, delle visite, della posta. Attesa della fine della pena, attesa della liberazione.
A ben guardare anche la ripetitività di gesti e parole della coppia di vagabondi Vladimiro ed Estragone rispecchia l’immobilità e reiterazione esasperata della vita dietro le sbarre.
Il film francese m’è parso perfetto per come rispetta i canoni del genere (o, sottogenere). Per come sa toccare la giusta corda al momento giusto. Il cast è ottimo: nessuna star, tutti azzeccati, bravi e convincenti.
Forse c’è un po’ d’accumulo, un po’ troppe vicende personali. Tutto il contrario dell’approccio scarno di Beckett, che probabilmente direbbe, Meno è meglio. Ma un palcoscenico è luogo diverso da uno schermo.
Quando raccontarono a Beckett quello che era successo in Svezia, il premio Nobel fu contento e commentò che gli sembrava un finale perfetto.
Il film svedese di Daniel Lind Lagerlöf (1999).
September 10, 2017
Book Review
4 out of 5 stars to Waiting for Godot, written in 1952 by Samuel Beckett. Mankind in general is made up of both passive and active people. In Samuel Beckett’s absurdist play Waiting for Godot, there are four characters who can be directly compared to universal mankind. Estragon and Vladimir are considered passive people because they sit back and let life pass them by, unlike Pozzo and Lucky, who are active people because they live new adventures from day to day. Samuel Beckett’s play is a direct commentary on universal mankind and shows that the world is made up of “couch potatoes” and “Energizer bunnies” who have distinct differences.
Estragon and Vladimir are the passive people and could be considered the “couch potatoes” of today’s world. They sit around and do the same things day-in and day-out. “Couch potatoes” get up, watch TV, sleep, watch TV, eat, and rarely expend any energy. Estragon and Vladimir have daily rituals of removing boots, eating carrots, waiting for Godot, talking of beatings, and forgetting what they did the day before. Both “couch potatoes” and Beckett’s characters do absolutely nothing and as a result, the days run into each other with no boundaries. There is confusion and chaos everywhere. Throughout his play, Samuel Beckett’s characters portray elements of mankind who do nothing and live in a world of inaction and laziness. They are passive like Estragon and Vladimir.
However, Pozzo and Lucky show the active elements of universal mankind. They could be considered the “Energizer bunnies” of today’s world. Lucky runs around, foams at the mouth, recites incomprehensible speeches, and carries his master around subserviently like a true slave. From day to day they visit new places and meet with Estragon and Vladimir in different atmospheres. Pozzo also is very active like an “Energizer bunny." He, as well as Lucky, “keep on licking and never take a licking.” Together they are constantly on the move from new place to new place. Similar to the real people of the world, Pozzo and Lucky are active. The active people will hop a plane to Paris one day and the next be swimming in Sydney, Australia. They live new adventures daily like Pozzo and Lucky. The characters in Samuel Beckett’s play are directly related to universal mankind who at times can be an active people.
About Me
For those new to me or my reviews... here's the scoop: I read A LOT. I write A LOT. And now I blog A LOT. First the book review goes on Goodreads, and then I send it on over to my WordPress blog at https://thisismytruthnow.com, where you'll also find TV & Film reviews, the revealing and introspective 365 Daily Challenge and lots of blogging about places I've visited all over the world. And you can find all my social media profiles to get the details on the who/what/when/where and my pictures. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Vote in the poll and ratings. Thanks for stopping by.
4 out of 5 stars to Waiting for Godot, written in 1952 by Samuel Beckett. Mankind in general is made up of both passive and active people. In Samuel Beckett’s absurdist play Waiting for Godot, there are four characters who can be directly compared to universal mankind. Estragon and Vladimir are considered passive people because they sit back and let life pass them by, unlike Pozzo and Lucky, who are active people because they live new adventures from day to day. Samuel Beckett’s play is a direct commentary on universal mankind and shows that the world is made up of “couch potatoes” and “Energizer bunnies” who have distinct differences.
Estragon and Vladimir are the passive people and could be considered the “couch potatoes” of today’s world. They sit around and do the same things day-in and day-out. “Couch potatoes” get up, watch TV, sleep, watch TV, eat, and rarely expend any energy. Estragon and Vladimir have daily rituals of removing boots, eating carrots, waiting for Godot, talking of beatings, and forgetting what they did the day before. Both “couch potatoes” and Beckett’s characters do absolutely nothing and as a result, the days run into each other with no boundaries. There is confusion and chaos everywhere. Throughout his play, Samuel Beckett’s characters portray elements of mankind who do nothing and live in a world of inaction and laziness. They are passive like Estragon and Vladimir.
However, Pozzo and Lucky show the active elements of universal mankind. They could be considered the “Energizer bunnies” of today’s world. Lucky runs around, foams at the mouth, recites incomprehensible speeches, and carries his master around subserviently like a true slave. From day to day they visit new places and meet with Estragon and Vladimir in different atmospheres. Pozzo also is very active like an “Energizer bunny." He, as well as Lucky, “keep on licking and never take a licking.” Together they are constantly on the move from new place to new place. Similar to the real people of the world, Pozzo and Lucky are active. The active people will hop a plane to Paris one day and the next be swimming in Sydney, Australia. They live new adventures daily like Pozzo and Lucky. The characters in Samuel Beckett’s play are directly related to universal mankind who at times can be an active people.
About Me
For those new to me or my reviews... here's the scoop: I read A LOT. I write A LOT. And now I blog A LOT. First the book review goes on Goodreads, and then I send it on over to my WordPress blog at https://thisismytruthnow.com, where you'll also find TV & Film reviews, the revealing and introspective 365 Daily Challenge and lots of blogging about places I've visited all over the world. And you can find all my social media profiles to get the details on the who/what/when/where and my pictures. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Vote in the poll and ratings. Thanks for stopping by.
April 11, 2024
Estragón: Vayámonos.
Vladimiro: No podemos.
Estragón: ¿Por qué?
Vladimiro: Porque estamos esperando a Godot.
Estragón: Es verdad.
Y así, en torno a este tipo de diálogos entre los personajes principales de “Esperando a Godot”, una genialidad escrita por un genio llamado Samuel Beckett giran los no acontecimientos de esta obra de teatro. Es una obra en la que no pasa nada y aún así pasa de todo.
Beckett dio el puntapié inicial del “Teatro del absurdo” a partir de la puesta en escena de su obra al año siguiente de que fuera publicado su libro y nunca dejó de representarse en algún lugar del mundo.
Eso es lo que sucede con las genialidades: llegan para quedarse y nunca desaparecen. Son eternas.
El minimalismo y la austeridad de la obra que sólo posee dos actos y con apenas un árbol en escena además de los personajes, son suficientes para saber si Vladimiro y Estragón, que esperan a un tal Godot (vaya nombre interesante) lograrán encontrarlo, pero a su vez divierten al lector con sus ocurrencias y las acciones que se suceden junto a sólo tres personajes más, los increíbles Pozzo y Lucky y un muchacho, que aparece de vez en cuando.
Los diálogos son cortos, ágiles y los personajes hacen reír al lector. Imagino que los actores en escena deben generar muchas más carcajadas. Una cosa es imaginarse la situación y otra es ver a los actores encarnando a Pozzo y Lucky tirando uno de una soga atada al otro.
Realmente, es increíble como con tan pocos elementos puede un escritor lograr algo tan divertido y por sobre todo tan bien escrito (aunque le haya llevado casi un año terminar de escribir la obra).
Como decía en mi reseña de Macbeth, no es el teatro uno de mis formas literarias predilectas pero cuando leo libros como este, tan brillantes, lo disfruto al máximo.
“Esperando a Godot” es una obra de teatro en la que también nos encontraremos con dosis de existencialismo, descubrimos lo absurdo que solemos ser algunas veces los seres humanos, y para ello sólo basta con leer las reflexiones de Vladimiro o el alocado y único discurso de Lucky.
En una escena Estragón dice: "Todos nacemos locos. Algunos lo siguen siendo."
Probablemente es esta una verdad en la que yo me incluiría (y que tal vez otros deberían considerarla).
Vladimiro: No podemos.
Estragón: ¿Por qué?
Vladimiro: Porque estamos esperando a Godot.
Estragón: Es verdad.
Y así, en torno a este tipo de diálogos entre los personajes principales de “Esperando a Godot”, una genialidad escrita por un genio llamado Samuel Beckett giran los no acontecimientos de esta obra de teatro. Es una obra en la que no pasa nada y aún así pasa de todo.
Beckett dio el puntapié inicial del “Teatro del absurdo” a partir de la puesta en escena de su obra al año siguiente de que fuera publicado su libro y nunca dejó de representarse en algún lugar del mundo.
Eso es lo que sucede con las genialidades: llegan para quedarse y nunca desaparecen. Son eternas.
El minimalismo y la austeridad de la obra que sólo posee dos actos y con apenas un árbol en escena además de los personajes, son suficientes para saber si Vladimiro y Estragón, que esperan a un tal Godot (vaya nombre interesante) lograrán encontrarlo, pero a su vez divierten al lector con sus ocurrencias y las acciones que se suceden junto a sólo tres personajes más, los increíbles Pozzo y Lucky y un muchacho, que aparece de vez en cuando.
Los diálogos son cortos, ágiles y los personajes hacen reír al lector. Imagino que los actores en escena deben generar muchas más carcajadas. Una cosa es imaginarse la situación y otra es ver a los actores encarnando a Pozzo y Lucky tirando uno de una soga atada al otro.
Realmente, es increíble como con tan pocos elementos puede un escritor lograr algo tan divertido y por sobre todo tan bien escrito (aunque le haya llevado casi un año terminar de escribir la obra).
Como decía en mi reseña de Macbeth, no es el teatro uno de mis formas literarias predilectas pero cuando leo libros como este, tan brillantes, lo disfruto al máximo.
“Esperando a Godot” es una obra de teatro en la que también nos encontraremos con dosis de existencialismo, descubrimos lo absurdo que solemos ser algunas veces los seres humanos, y para ello sólo basta con leer las reflexiones de Vladimiro o el alocado y único discurso de Lucky.
En una escena Estragón dice: "Todos nacemos locos. Algunos lo siguen siendo."
Probablemente es esta una verdad en la que yo me incluiría (y que tal vez otros deberían considerarla).
September 7, 2023
"Well? What do we do?"
"Don't let's do anything. It's safer."
"Let's wait and see what he says."
"Who?"
"Godot. You'd make me laugh if it wasn't prohibited."
"We've lost our rights?"
"We got rid of them."
This bizarre and unsettling play is about life, death, hope and loss of hope. We always search for a meaning for our existence. Sometimes we find what we are looking for, but often we are left wanting and waiting. Waiting for the unreachable. It is morning, the sun is shining, there is yet hope for us. We wait...for something or someone to diminish this boredom and loneliness, to give some meaning to what we call "life". We wait. The night falls. Everywhere is dark. There is nothing, everything is dead but a tree. We decide to end it all. But there is no rope to hang ourselves with! What if we wake up tomorrow and wait some more; hope some more? What if tomorrow would be different? If not, we can always bring a piece of rope with us the next time we go to the tree.
"Don't let's do anything. It's safer."
"Let's wait and see what he says."
"Who?"
"Godot. You'd make me laugh if it wasn't prohibited."
"We've lost our rights?"
"We got rid of them."
This bizarre and unsettling play is about life, death, hope and loss of hope. We always search for a meaning for our existence. Sometimes we find what we are looking for, but often we are left wanting and waiting. Waiting for the unreachable. It is morning, the sun is shining, there is yet hope for us. We wait...for something or someone to diminish this boredom and loneliness, to give some meaning to what we call "life". We wait. The night falls. Everywhere is dark. There is nothing, everything is dead but a tree. We decide to end it all. But there is no rope to hang ourselves with! What if we wake up tomorrow and wait some more; hope some more? What if tomorrow would be different? If not, we can always bring a piece of rope with us the next time we go to the tree.
November 3, 2015
معنا باختگی و تئاتر ابزورد : انسانی سرگشته در جهانی بی رحم
هبوط واقعی انسان نه در عدن، بلکه در قرن ما رخ داده است.بعد از انباشت بیش از حد تاریخ،ما معصومیت لازم برای اعتقاد به هرگونه توجیه بیشتر را از دست داده ایم.تنها قطعیاتی که مانده اند،جعلی بودن همه ساختارهای تفسیری و غیرقابل فهم بودن اساسی تجربه انسان بدون حضور این ساختارهاست
اریک لوی/ بکت و ندای انواع
تئاتز ابزورد تصویری آرایش نشده از هستی آدمی در عصری را به تصویر می کشد که با فروپاشی ارزش های انسانی و سلب امکان تعامل و مراوده میان آدمیان، پوچ و عاری از هر معنایی شده است. در این نوع نمایش،استدلال درباره علت معناباختگی کنار گذشته می شود و فقط نمایی از زندگی انسان در دنیایی خالی از معنا به صورتی تهدیدکننده، ویرانگر و هراس انگیز به تصویر کشیده می شود. بر اساس یک اشتباه رایج، تئاتر ابزورد با با تعاریفی مانند "پوچی، فلسفه پوچ گرایی و ... " بیان می شود که کاملا نادرست است.معناباختگی در این نوع نمایش وضعیتی حادث شده و نه ذاتی ست که تصویر می شود و انسان را برای خلق معانی جدید و تغییری اساسی به چالش می کشد.
در تئانر ابزورد فرم،ساختار و اتمسفر را نمی توان از معنا و محتوای عقلانی اثر جدا کرد. آنچه در این آثار گفته می شود به نحوی غیرقابل تفکیک با چگونگی گفتن آن پیوستگی دارد و به هیچ نحوه دیگری نمی توان آن را گفت. ساختار کلاسیک نمایش - آغاز، میانه، پایان (زمینه و معرفی، گره افکنی، گره گشایی) - به کلی شکسته می شود و سیر خطی مرسوم نمایش حالت دورانی پیدا می کند. واقعیت های خیال پردازانه و رویاگونه، شخصیت های گروتسک، کنش ها - اگر کنشی رخ دهد - در فضایی سورئال و به دور از هرگونه رابطه علت و معلولی اند. مونولوگ ها و جریان سیال ذهنی به طور ریتمیک تکرار شده ،بی معنی و بدون مخاطب و پر از تناقض اند و دچار گسست ناگهانی می شوند.
در نمایش ابزورد سارتر بر اصل "امتناع اساسی تئاتر" تاکید می کند.بر اساس این اصل در تئاتر نو از روان شناسی شخصیت ها،طرح و رئالیسم اجتناب می شود. ( بدون طرح به مفهوم بی داستان و نه بدون طرح کلی نمایش. چرا که در تمام نمونه های این سبک، طرح کلی موجود است.)
نویسندگان این حوزه دو موضوع مهم را به صورت مشترک در آثار خود بیان می کنند: ناتوانی انسان در مراوده و تعامل معنی دار و اضمحلال فردیت.انسانی که به تصویر کشیده می شود انسانی است که فردیت خود را باخته و در نتیجه به طرزی منزوی و از خود بیگانه زندگی می کند یا با تکرار الگوی رفتاری غالب، هم رنگ شده با جماعت خود را از دست رفته می یابد
در کائناتی که ناگهان همه توهمات و بارقه های امید ناپدید شده اند، انسان ناچارا احساس غریبگی می کند. وضعیت او به وضعیت فردی تبعید شده می ماند که هیچ علاجی برای دردهایش وجود ندارد، زیرا از خاطراتش درباره موطنی از دست رفته محروم است و ایضا امیدی هم به رسیدن به سرزمین موعود ندارد. این جدایی بین انسان و زندگی او، بین بازیگر و زمان و مکان نمایش، حقیقتا احساس معناباختگی را به وجود میاورد. کامو
سقوط فردیت با از میان برداشتن تمایز میان شخصیت ها و جابجایی نقش ها در پایان نمایش نشان داده می شود. زبان در آثار ابزورد یاد آور اوهام و از هم گسیختگی دنیایی وهم انگیز است.زبانی که به کار گرفته می شود انزوای انسان در دنیا و ناتوانی وی از مراوده را نشان می دهد.بنا بر عقیده بکت،این ناتوانی از مراوده در نتیجه از زبان ناشی می شود،یعنی زبان خود مانع مراوده است.اما به زعم یونسکو انسان ها در مراوده ناتوانند چون در واقع چیزی برای مراوده ندارد.
در نمایشنامه های ابزورد،هرگز چیزی روشن نمی شود،عملی صورت نمی پذیرد، هرگز پیامی منتقل نمی شود. بنا به گفته یونسکو نمایش ابزورد پیامی را تعلیم نمی دهد بلکه نوشته می شود تا تنها سخنی را مطرح کند
"در انتظار گودو"
در انتظار گودو فراخوانی پرشور برای نوعی ایمان جدید و از این منظر نمایشنامه ای بسیار دینی ست. مشکلی که در این نمایشنامه مطرح می شود یقینا ماهیتی مابعدالطبیعی دارد. چاره این موجودات حزن زده نه پیشرفت اقتصادی، سازگاری روانی و داروهایی که پزشکان تجویز می کنند، بلکه تعریفی جدید از انسان و رابطه ای جدید با عالم هستی است.انسانی که تا این حد محتاج معنویت است یا تعریف های کهنه شده از انسان و خدا را تجدید نظر خواهد کرد و یا اینکه به دنبال تعریف های جدید خواهد بود. کرنودل
نمایش های بکت بیش از دیگر آثار ابزورد فاقد پی رنگ هستند. چند صدایی بودن نمایش به جای بسط خطی، تماشاگر را با ساختاری سازمان یافته از گزاره ها و تصاویر روبرو می کند، عبارات و تصویرهایی که در یکدیگر نفوذ می کنند و فقط در تمامیتشان است که می توان درکشان کرد، نه اینکه درون مایه هایی متفاوت اما هماهنگ باشند که با تعامل هم زمان ارائه ی معنا کنند.
در انتظار گودو را می توان مهم ترین نماینده تئاتر ابزورد دانست. نمایشنامه 5 شخصیت دارد: ولادیمیر (دی دی) - استراگون (گوگو) - پوتزو - لاکی و پسربچه پیغام رسان. دو پرده این نمایش در مکان و زمان مشابهی اتفاق می افتد. درخت بیدی خشک،روی تلی کنار جاده ای بیرون شهر،دور افتاده و غریب. ولادیمیر و استراگون دو ولگرد هستند که روز را در انتظار گودو به شب می رسانند.
گودو کیست؟ شخصیتی مرموز که هویت و وجودش هرگز فاش نمی شود، با این حال قرار است چیزی را برای ولادیمیر و استراگون به ارمغان آورد. اما این چیز چیست؟ مرگ؟ نجات؟ دلیلی برای بودن؟ ولادیمیر و استراگون خود فراموش کرده اند که چرا در انتظار گودو هستند. استراگون این دلیل را به خاطر نمی آورد و ولادیمیر با شک می گوید شاید یک لطف خواسته ایم، چیزی نامشخص، شاید یک دعا. در واقع استراگون و ولادیمیر منتظر گودو هستند تا با آمدنش جریان زمان را متوقف کند. " امشب شاید تو جاش بخوابیم، یک جای گرم و نرم. شکممان سیر روی پوشال. می ارزد منتظرش باشیم، مگر نه؟" البته این قسمت در متن انگلیسی حذف شده است.
بکت در پاسخ آلن اشنایدر کارگردان اولین اجرای آمریکایی در انتظار گودو درباره شخصیت گودو گفته است: نمی دانم گودو کیست،اگر می دانستم که در نمایشنامه می گفتم. با این حال انگیزه های قوی بسیاری وجود دارد که ما را وسوسه می کند گودو را نمادی از خدا در نظر بگیریم. گودو هرگز خود را نشان نمی دهد،ریش بلند سفیدی دارد(بر اساس صحبت های ولادیمیر) ، پیغام رسانش کودکی چوپان است (اکثر پیامبران شبان گله بوده اند و با این تمثیل شناخته می شوند). پیغام رسان برادر دیگری دارد که گودو به خاطر دلایل نامعلوم با وی بد رفتار است.آیا بکت به هابیل و قائن و ماجرای نپذیرفته شدن هدایای قائن اشاره دارد؟ ولادیمیر و استراگون از گودو هراسان اند و در هر دو پرده هنگامی که تصور می کنند گودو در حال آمدن است هراسان شده و سعی در پنهان کردن خود می کنند. آیا این بخش اشاره به ترسان شدن آدم و حوا و پنهان شدن از خدا دارد؟ هنگامی که پوتزو در پرده اول با اقتدار وارد می شود هر دو ترسیده و وی را با گودو اشتباه می گیرند.
به هر حال گودو چه اشاره به مداخله یک عامل ماورای طبیعی داشته باشد و چه نماینده انسانی اسطوره ای نجات دهنده ی موعود باشد، ماهیت او در درجه دوم اهمیت قرار دارد. موضوع نمایش شخص گودو نیست، بلکه کنش انتظار و معضل زمان به عنوان جنبه ای خاص و اساسی از وضعیت بشری ست. ما در زندگی همیشه منتظر چیزی هستیم و گودو نشانگر غایت انتظار ماست و بس، یک شی، یک حادثه، یک فرد و یا مرگ. همچنین در انتظار است که ما کنش زمان را در ناب ترین و واضح ترین حالت خود تجربه می کنیم.
تعدادی از جملات این نمایشنامه در دیگر آثار بکت نیز وجود دارند که مهم ترین آن، عبارت "نمی دانم آقا" ست که توسط پیغام رسان گودو بیان می شود.این عبارت در مولوی نیز تکرار می شود و شاید صدای آن تبهکاری ست که سال ها پیش بکت را مجروح کرده است. بکت در سال 1937 توسط یک زورگیر در خیابان به شدت مجروح می شود. ضارب پس از گرفتن کیف پول بکت، بی دلیل وی را با چند ضربه ی چاقو مجروح می کند. بکت پس از بهبود با ضارب خود در زاندان ملاقات می کند و از آن تبهکار می پرسد که چرا وی را جاقو زده و او پاسخ می دهد :نمی دانم آقا
با آن که ولادیمیر و استراگون فردیت خود را از دست داده اند،اما می توان میان آن ها تمایزهایی اساسی در بررسی های دقیق تر قائل شد.می توان بر حسب الگوی نمایش های کمدی، ولادیمیر و استراگون را شخصیت های قالبی "مرد جدی و آقای کودن" در نظر گرفت که مکمل یکدیگرند. در تمام تصمیم گیری ها،ولادیمیر نقش نهایی را دارد. این ولادیمیر است که گفتگو ها را آغاز می کند و به پیش می برد،اما استراگون در جواب حرف های بی معنی می زند و گفتگو قطع می شود. این ولادیمیر است که مرتبا متذکر می شود که آن ها باید منتظر گودو بمانند. اوست که از پسرک پیام رسان سوال می پرسد، فکر می کند و سخنانش گاهی چاشنی فلسفه دارد، به نیازهای جسمی خود و استراگون توجه می کند و اوست که از استراگون محافظت می نماید. در عوض استراگون مرتبا به امور معمولی توجه تام دارد.درد پا،مشکل پوتین ها، انتخاب هویج و نه جای شلغم، درخواست پول و استخوان های باقی مانده از پوتزو. می توان نتیجه گرفت استراگون شخصیتی دون مرتبه است و هیچ دل نگرانی دینی و فلسفی ای ندارد. با این حال تمام این تفاسیر تاثیری در رسیدن به نتیجه ( ملاقات با گودو) ندارد، آنان که در جستجوی معنا سخت در تلاشند، زودتر از کسانی که منفعلانه منتظر پیدا شدن معنا هستند به آن دست نمی یابند.
استراگون و ولادیمیر هر دو درگیر محنت هستند. بکت به طور ضمنی به تعریف بعد فلسفی "مسئله رنج" پرداخته و میان وجه درد کشیدن و رنج بردن تمایز قائل شده است.استراگون از ناحیه پا درد می کشد و ولادیمیر بابت مشکلی در دفع ادرار رنج می برد.
حالت خوابیدن استراگون به صورت جنینی،تصویر بازگشت به رحم مادر و گریز از بودن را به تصویر می کشد (بنا به گفته ی گوگنهایم بکت خاطره ی وحشتناکی از زندگی در رحم مادر به یاد داشت. او مدام از این خاطره رنج می کشید و با به یاد آوردن این احساس که در حال خفه شدن بود مدام منقلب می شد) . سپس خوابی که استراگون می بیند و کلمه ای از آن را بیان می کند...سقوط... هبوط به این دنیای بی معنا؟
دو شخصیت دیگر،پوتزو و لاکی بر خلاف استراگون و ولادیمیر، آنتی تز یکدیگرند اما در عین حال از طریق جسمانی و فراجسمانی با یکدیگر در ارتباط و اتصال اند.می توان آن ها را دو قطب متقابل در نظر گرفت.پدر در مقابل پسر، مادر در مقابل فرزند (طناب به منزله بند ناف)، ارباب در مقابل برده، دلقک سیرک در مقابل حیوان تربیت شده ( پوتزو وسایل سیرک شامل شلاق،چهارپایه،طناب و ... را در اختیار دارد، ورود آن ها مانند شروع یک نمایش مضحک سیرک است) و یا بر اساس نظریه فروید خود در مقابل نهاد.
استراگون و ولادیمیر به وضوح برتر از پوتزو و لاکی هستند. نه به خاطر باورشان به گودو، بلکه چون به اندازه آن دو ساده لوح نیستند.آن ها به کنش،ثروت یا عقل اعتقادی ندارند. آنان آگاهند که همه آنچه در زندگی انجام می دهیم در مقابل کنش ذاتا توهم زمان، هیچ است. آگاهند که خودکشی می تواند بهترین راه حل باشد، بنابراین آن ها به لاکی و پوتزو برتری دارند چون کمتر خودمحورند و کمتر از آنان توهم دارند. اوا متمن،روانشناس یونگی بر این باور است که کارکرد گودو این است که وابستگان به خودش را ناهشیار نگه دارد. از این دیدگاه امید و عادت به امیدواری که بعد از همه این ها ممکن است گودو بیاید آخرین توهمی است که ولادیمیر و استراگون را از مواجهه با خودشان و موقعیت انسان باز می دارد. در لحظه آخر پیش از هوشیاری که چیزی نمانده ولادیمیر بفهمد در رویا بوده است و باید بیدار شود و با دنیا - همانطور که هست - روبرو شود، پیغام رسان گودو می رسد و دوباره او را به انفعال توهم می کشاند. بکت در مقاله ای در ارتباط با پروست،به طور ضمنی به این جنبه از در انتظار گودو یعنی "عادت امید داشتن" بیان می کند : عادت زنجیری است که سگ را به استفراغش می بندد، نفس کشیدن عادت است. زندگی عادت است یا ترجیحا توالی عادت هاست جون فرد در اثر تغییر پی در پی،توالی فرد هاست. پس عادت نام میثاق های بی شماری ست میان بی شمار سوژه که مجموعا فرد را می سازد و بی شمار ابژه وابسته شان. دوره های گذار که سازگاری های پی در پی فرد را از هم جدا می کند نمایانگر نواحی پر مخاطره ای در زندگی فرد است. پر خطر، بی ثبات، پر درد، پر راز و خلاق، وقتی لحظه ای رنج هستی جای ملال هستی را می گیرد.
گسنر در رساله ای خود درباره بکت عنوان می کند که در این اثر چهار شخصیت نمایش در مجموع 45 بار از وضعیت قائم که نماد شان انسانی ست خارج می شوند.
شروع نمایشنامه در هر دو پرده با این عبارت است: کاری نمی شود کرد.این جمله به صورت های مختلف و در موقعیت های گوناگون در نمایش تکرار می شود و فضای کلی نمایش را مشخص می کند.قرار نیست در این نمایش کاری انجام شود و اتفاقی رخ دهد. ولادیمیر و استراگون هیچ کاری نمی کنند.در واقع آنان بی عملی را کم خطر ترین عمل ممکن یافته اند.
مضمون دو دزد بر روی صلیب مضمون عدم قطعیت در امید به رستگاری و بخشوده شدن است، چیزی که بر تمام نمایش سایه افکنده است. هنگامی که از بکت در ارتباط با مضمون در انتظار گودو سوال شد وی چنین پاسخ داد: در نوشته های آگوستین قدیس جمله شگفت انگیزی هست، کاش لاتین آن را به یاد داشتم. به زبان لاتین حتی از زبان انگلیسی زیباتر است. " ناامید نباشید،یکی از دو دزد رستگار شد. مطمئن نباشید، یکی از دو دزد به لعنت ابدی گرفتار شد."
کاربرد نماد های مسیحی در نمایشنامه واضح است. کتک خوردن استراگون و خوابیدن در نهر یادآور مثل سامری نیکو* در عهد جدید است،با این تفاوت که دیگر نجات دهنده ای به داد استراگون نمی رسد. دو ولگرد در صحنه و تلی که بر آن درختی نیمه خشک قرار دارد و در حاشیه دورافتاده قرار گرفته است، می تواند یادآور وقایع جمعه الصلیب باشد (تلی بیرن از شهر = تپه جلجتا، دو ولگرد = دو دزد، چوب = صلیب، نماد رستگاری در بهار).
ولادیمیر به آمدن گودو در آن شنبه موعود اشاره می کند.آیا امروز شنبه است؟ آیا این همان شنبه مابین جمعه الصلیب ** و یکشنبه رستاخیز است؟آن فضای خالی میان تاریخ؟ شنبه ای که با یاس، ترس حواریون، سکوت و غیبت خدا و انتظار همراه بود؟ بر خلاف کتاب مقدس در پایان این نمایش، تاریخ در همان شنبه ی سکون می ماند و هیچ یکشنبه رستگاری و قیامی در کار نیست.
ولادیمیر و استراگون در حین مرور خاطرات،به افتادن در رودخانه و غرق شدن استراگون اشاره می کنند.این را نیز می توان اشاره ای به تعمید آب و تولد تازه در نظر گرفت. به کار بردن نام هابیل و قائن در نمایش،علاوه بر ارزش نمادین، نشان از جهان شمول بودن شخصیت های نمایش دارد.
از میان تکنیک های خاصی که بکت در این نمایشنامه به کار گرفته است می توان به آشفته اندیشی زمان و مکان و مبتذل نشان دادن احساسات آدمی اشاره کرد(ولادیمیر و استراگون یکدگیر را در آغوش می گیرند،اما فورا به خاطر بوی سیر از یکدیگر فاصله می گیرند).
در انتظار گودو مانند دیگر آثار ابزورد،ساختاری دورانی دارد. یکی بودن زمان و مکان در هر دو پرده،تکرار ریتمیک وقایع و تکرار شعر در ابتدای پرده دوم نشان از تسلسل باطل وقایع دارد. از شروع و پایان نمایشنامه مشخص است که تمام این وقایع با تفاوت اندکی در جزئیات،بارها و بارها تکرار شده و تکرار خواهند شد.بکت در این اثر یگانه نقطه قوت انسان نوین را به تصویر کشده است : انتظار!در انتظار...
* - مثل سامری نیکو: روزي يكي از ��علمين شريعت آمد و از راه امتحان از او پرسيد: «اي استاد، چه بايد بكنم تا وارث حيات جاودان شوم؟» عيسي به او فرمود: «در تورات چه نوشته شده؟ آن را چطور تفسير مي کني؟» او جواب داد: «خداي خود را با تمام دل و تمام جان و تمام قدرت و تمام ذهن خود دوست بدار و همسايه ات را مانند جان خود دوست بدار.» عيسي فرمود: «درست جواب دادي. اين كار را بكن كه حيات خواهي داشت.» اما او براي اينكه نشان دهد آدم بي غرضي است به عيسي گفت: «همسايه من كيست؟» عيسي چنين پاسخ داد: «مردي كه از اورشليم به اريحا مي رفت، به دست راهزنان افتاد. راهزنان او را لخت كردند و كتک زدند و به حال نيم مرده انداختند و رفتند. اتفاقا كاهني از همان راه مي گذشت، امّا وقتي او را ديد از طرف ديگر جاده رد شد. همچنين يک لاوي به آن محل رسيد و وقتي او را ديد از طرف ديگر عبور كرد. پس از آن يک مسافر سامري به او رسيد و وقتي او را ديد، دلش به حال او سوخت. نزد او رفت، زخمهايش را با شراب شست و بر آنها روغن ماليد و بست. بعد او را برداشته، سوار چهارپاي خود كرد و به كاروانسرايي برد و در آنجا از او پرستاري كرد. روز بعد دو سکه نقره درآورد و به صاحب كاروانسرا داد و گفت: 'از او مواظبت كن و اگر بيشتر از اين خرج كردي، وقتي برگردم به تو مي دهم.' به عقيده تو کدام يک از اين سه نفر همسايه آن مردي كه به دست دزدان افتاد به حساب مي آيد؟» جواب داد: «آن کسي که به او ترحم كرد.» عيسي فرمود: «برو مثل او رفتار كن.» لوقا 10 : 25 - 37
** - جمعه ای که مسیح به صلیب کشیده شد
هبوط واقعی انسان نه در عدن، بلکه در قرن ما رخ داده است.بعد از انباشت بیش از حد تاریخ،ما معصومیت لازم برای اعتقاد به هرگونه توجیه بیشتر را از دست داده ایم.تنها قطعیاتی که مانده اند،جعلی بودن همه ساختارهای تفسیری و غیرقابل فهم بودن اساسی تجربه انسان بدون حضور این ساختارهاست
اریک لوی/ بکت و ندای انواع
تئاتز ابزورد تصویری آرایش نشده از هستی آدمی در عصری را به تصویر می کشد که با فروپاشی ارزش های انسانی و سلب امکان تعامل و مراوده میان آدمیان، پوچ و عاری از هر معنایی شده است. در این نوع نمایش،استدلال درباره علت معناباختگی کنار گذشته می شود و فقط نمایی از زندگی انسان در دنیایی خالی از معنا به صورتی تهدیدکننده، ویرانگر و هراس انگیز به تصویر کشیده می شود. بر اساس یک اشتباه رایج، تئاتر ابزورد با با تعاریفی مانند "پوچی، فلسفه پوچ گرایی و ... " بیان می شود که کاملا نادرست است.معناباختگی در این نوع نمایش وضعیتی حادث شده و نه ذاتی ست که تصویر می شود و انسان را برای خلق معانی جدید و تغییری اساسی به چالش می کشد.
در تئانر ابزورد فرم،ساختار و اتمسفر را نمی توان از معنا و محتوای عقلانی اثر جدا کرد. آنچه در این آثار گفته می شود به نحوی غیرقابل تفکیک با چگونگی گفتن آن پیوستگی دارد و به هیچ نحوه دیگری نمی توان آن را گفت. ساختار کلاسیک نمایش - آغاز، میانه، پایان (زمینه و معرفی، گره افکنی، گره گشایی) - به کلی شکسته می شود و سیر خطی مرسوم نمایش حالت دورانی پیدا می کند. واقعیت های خیال پردازانه و رویاگونه، شخصیت های گروتسک، کنش ها - اگر کنشی رخ دهد - در فضایی سورئال و به دور از هرگونه رابطه علت و معلولی اند. مونولوگ ها و جریان سیال ذهنی به طور ریتمیک تکرار شده ،بی معنی و بدون مخاطب و پر از تناقض اند و دچار گسست ناگهانی می شوند.
در نمایش ابزورد سارتر بر اصل "امتناع اساسی تئاتر" تاکید می کند.بر اساس این اصل در تئاتر نو از روان شناسی شخصیت ها،طرح و رئالیسم اجتناب می شود. ( بدون طرح به مفهوم بی داستان و نه بدون طرح کلی نمایش. چرا که در تمام نمونه های این سبک، طرح کلی موجود است.)
نویسندگان این حوزه دو موضوع مهم را به صورت مشترک در آثار خود بیان می کنند: ناتوانی انسان در مراوده و تعامل معنی دار و اضمحلال فردیت.انسانی که به تصویر کشیده می شود انسانی است که فردیت خود را باخته و در نتیجه به طرزی منزوی و از خود بیگانه زندگی می کند یا با تکرار الگوی رفتاری غالب، هم رنگ شده با جماعت خود را از دست رفته می یابد
در کائناتی که ناگهان همه توهمات و بارقه های امید ناپدید شده اند، انسان ناچارا احساس غریبگی می کند. وضعیت او به وضعیت فردی تبعید شده می ماند که هیچ علاجی برای دردهایش وجود ندارد، زیرا از خاطراتش درباره موطنی از دست رفته محروم است و ایضا امیدی هم به رسیدن به سرزمین موعود ندارد. این جدایی بین انسان و زندگی او، بین بازیگر و زمان و مکان نمایش، حقیقتا احساس معناباختگی را به وجود میاورد. کامو
سقوط فردیت با از میان برداشتن تمایز میان شخصیت ها و جابجایی نقش ها در پایان نمایش نشان داده می شود. زبان در آثار ابزورد یاد آور اوهام و از هم گسیختگی دنیایی وهم انگیز است.زبانی که به کار گرفته می شود انزوای انسان در دنیا و ناتوانی وی از مراوده را نشان می دهد.بنا بر عقیده بکت،این ناتوانی از مراوده در نتیجه از زبان ناشی می شود،یعنی زبان خود مانع مراوده است.اما به زعم یونسکو انسان ها در مراوده ناتوانند چون در واقع چیزی برای مراوده ندارد.
در نمایشنامه های ابزورد،هرگز چیزی روشن نمی شود،عملی صورت نمی پذیرد، هرگز پیامی منتقل نمی شود. بنا به گفته یونسکو نمایش ابزورد پیامی را تعلیم نمی دهد بلکه نوشته می شود تا تنها سخنی را مطرح کند
"در انتظار گودو"
در انتظار گودو فراخوانی پرشور برای نوعی ایمان جدید و از این منظر نمایشنامه ای بسیار دینی ست. مشکلی که در این نمایشنامه مطرح می شود یقینا ماهیتی مابعدالطبیعی دارد. چاره این موجودات حزن زده نه پیشرفت اقتصادی، سازگاری روانی و داروهایی که پزشکان تجویز می کنند، بلکه تعریفی جدید از انسان و رابطه ای جدید با عالم هستی است.انسانی که تا این حد محتاج معنویت است یا تعریف های کهنه شده از انسان و خدا را تجدید نظر خواهد کرد و یا اینکه به دنبال تعریف های جدید خواهد بود. کرنودل
نمایش های بکت بیش از دیگر آثار ابزورد فاقد پی رنگ هستند. چند صدایی بودن نمایش به جای بسط خطی، تماشاگر را با ساختاری سازمان یافته از گزاره ها و تصاویر روبرو می کند، عبارات و تصویرهایی که در یکدیگر نفوذ می کنند و فقط در تمامیتشان است که می توان درکشان کرد، نه اینکه درون مایه هایی متفاوت اما هماهنگ باشند که با تعامل هم زمان ارائه ی معنا کنند.
در انتظار گودو را می توان مهم ترین نماینده تئاتر ابزورد دانست. نمایشنامه 5 شخصیت دارد: ولادیمیر (دی دی) - استراگون (گوگو) - پوتزو - لاکی و پسربچه پیغام رسان. دو پرده این نمایش در مکان و زمان مشابهی اتفاق می افتد. درخت بیدی خشک،روی تلی کنار جاده ای بیرون شهر،دور افتاده و غریب. ولادیمیر و استراگون دو ولگرد هستند که روز را در انتظار گودو به شب می رسانند.
گودو کیست؟ شخصیتی مرموز که هویت و وجودش هرگز فاش نمی شود، با این حال قرار است چیزی را برای ولادیمیر و استراگون به ارمغان آورد. اما این چیز چیست؟ مرگ؟ نجات؟ دلیلی برای بودن؟ ولادیمیر و استراگون خود فراموش کرده اند که چرا در انتظار گودو هستند. استراگون این دلیل را به خاطر نمی آورد و ولادیمیر با شک می گوید شاید یک لطف خواسته ایم، چیزی نامشخص، شاید یک دعا. در واقع استراگون و ولادیمیر منتظر گودو هستند تا با آمدنش جریان زمان را متوقف کند. " امشب شاید تو جاش بخوابیم، یک جای گرم و نرم. شکممان سیر روی پوشال. می ارزد منتظرش باشیم، مگر نه؟" البته این قسمت در متن انگلیسی حذف شده است.
بکت در پاسخ آلن اشنایدر کارگردان اولین اجرای آمریکایی در انتظار گودو درباره شخصیت گودو گفته است: نمی دانم گودو کیست،اگر می دانستم که در نمایشنامه می گفتم. با این حال انگیزه های قوی بسیاری وجود دارد که ما را وسوسه می کند گودو را نمادی از خدا در نظر بگیریم. گودو هرگز خود را نشان نمی دهد،ریش بلند سفیدی دارد(بر اساس صحبت های ولادیمیر) ، پیغام رسانش کودکی چوپان است (اکثر پیامبران شبان گله بوده اند و با این تمثیل شناخته می شوند). پیغام رسان برادر دیگری دارد که گودو به خاطر دلایل نامعلوم با وی بد رفتار است.آیا بکت به هابیل و قائن و ماجرای نپذیرفته شدن هدایای قائن اشاره دارد؟ ولادیمیر و استراگون از گودو هراسان اند و در هر دو پرده هنگامی که تصور می کنند گودو در حال آمدن است هراسان شده و سعی در پنهان کردن خود می کنند. آیا این بخش اشاره به ترسان شدن آدم و حوا و پنهان شدن از خدا دارد؟ هنگامی که پوتزو در پرده اول با اقتدار وارد می شود هر دو ترسیده و وی را با گودو اشتباه می گیرند.
به هر حال گودو چه اشاره به مداخله یک عامل ماورای طبیعی داشته باشد و چه نماینده انسانی اسطوره ای نجات دهنده ی موعود باشد، ماهیت او در درجه دوم اهمیت قرار دارد. موضوع نمایش شخص گودو نیست، بلکه کنش انتظار و معضل زمان به عنوان جنبه ای خاص و اساسی از وضعیت بشری ست. ما در زندگی همیشه منتظر چیزی هستیم و گودو نشانگر غایت انتظار ماست و بس، یک شی، یک حادثه، یک فرد و یا مرگ. همچنین در انتظار است که ما کنش زمان را در ناب ترین و واضح ترین حالت خود تجربه می کنیم.
تعدادی از جملات این نمایشنامه در دیگر آثار بکت نیز وجود دارند که مهم ترین آن، عبارت "نمی دانم آقا" ست که توسط پیغام رسان گودو بیان می شود.این عبارت در مولوی نیز تکرار می شود و شاید صدای آن تبهکاری ست که سال ها پیش بکت را مجروح کرده است. بکت در سال 1937 توسط یک زورگیر در خیابان به شدت مجروح می شود. ضارب پس از گرفتن کیف پول بکت، بی دلیل وی را با چند ضربه ی چاقو مجروح می کند. بکت پس از بهبود با ضارب خود در زاندان ملاقات می کند و از آن تبهکار می پرسد که چرا وی را جاقو زده و او پاسخ می دهد :نمی دانم آقا
با آن که ولادیمیر و استراگون فردیت خود را از دست داده اند،اما می توان میان آن ها تمایزهایی اساسی در بررسی های دقیق تر قائل شد.می توان بر حسب الگوی نمایش های کمدی، ولادیمیر و استراگون را شخصیت های قالبی "مرد جدی و آقای کودن" در نظر گرفت که مکمل یکدیگرند. در تمام تصمیم گیری ها،ولادیمیر نقش نهایی را دارد. این ولادیمیر است که گفتگو ها را آغاز می کند و به پیش می برد،اما استراگون در جواب حرف های بی معنی می زند و گفتگو قطع می شود. این ولادیمیر است که مرتبا متذکر می شود که آن ها باید منتظر گودو بمانند. اوست که از پسرک پیام رسان سوال می پرسد، فکر می کند و سخنانش گاهی چاشنی فلسفه دارد، به نیازهای جسمی خود و استراگون توجه می کند و اوست که از استراگون محافظت می نماید. در عوض استراگون مرتبا به امور معمولی توجه تام دارد.درد پا،مشکل پوتین ها، انتخاب هویج و نه جای شلغم، درخواست پول و استخوان های باقی مانده از پوتزو. می توان نتیجه گرفت استراگون شخصیتی دون مرتبه است و هیچ دل نگرانی دینی و فلسفی ای ندارد. با این حال تمام این تفاسیر تاثیری در رسیدن به نتیجه ( ملاقات با گودو) ندارد، آنان که در جستجوی معنا سخت در تلاشند، زودتر از کسانی که منفعلانه منتظر پیدا شدن معنا هستند به آن دست نمی یابند.
استراگون و ولادیمیر هر دو درگیر محنت هستند. بکت به طور ضمنی به تعریف بعد فلسفی "مسئله رنج" پرداخته و میان وجه درد کشیدن و رنج بردن تمایز قائل شده است.استراگون از ناحیه پا درد می کشد و ولادیمیر بابت مشکلی در دفع ادرار رنج می برد.
حالت خوابیدن استراگون به صورت جنینی،تصویر بازگشت به رحم مادر و گریز از بودن را به تصویر می کشد (بنا به گفته ی گوگنهایم بکت خاطره ی وحشتناکی از زندگی در رحم مادر به یاد داشت. او مدام از این خاطره رنج می کشید و با به یاد آوردن این احساس که در حال خفه شدن بود مدام منقلب می شد) . سپس خوابی که استراگون می بیند و کلمه ای از آن را بیان می کند...سقوط... هبوط به این دنیای بی معنا؟
دو شخصیت دیگر،پوتزو و لاکی بر خلاف استراگون و ولادیمیر، آنتی تز یکدیگرند اما در عین حال از طریق جسمانی و فراجسمانی با یکدیگر در ارتباط و اتصال اند.می توان آن ها را دو قطب متقابل در نظر گرفت.پدر در مقابل پسر، مادر در مقابل فرزند (طناب به منزله بند ناف)، ارباب در مقابل برده، دلقک سیرک در مقابل حیوان تربیت شده ( پوتزو وسایل سیرک شامل شلاق،چهارپایه،طناب و ... را در اختیار دارد، ورود آن ها مانند شروع یک نمایش مضحک سیرک است) و یا بر اساس نظریه فروید خود در مقابل نهاد.
استراگون و ولادیمیر به وضوح برتر از پوتزو و لاکی هستند. نه به خاطر باورشان به گودو، بلکه چون به اندازه آن دو ساده لوح نیستند.آن ها به کنش،ثروت یا عقل اعتقادی ندارند. آنان آگاهند که همه آنچه در زندگی انجام می دهیم در مقابل کنش ذاتا توهم زمان، هیچ است. آگاهند که خودکشی می تواند بهترین راه حل باشد، بنابراین آن ها به لاکی و پوتزو برتری دارند چون کمتر خودمحورند و کمتر از آنان توهم دارند. اوا متمن،روانشناس یونگی بر این باور است که کارکرد گودو این است که وابستگان به خودش را ناهشیار نگه دارد. از این دیدگاه امید و عادت به امیدواری که بعد از همه این ها ممکن است گودو بیاید آخرین توهمی است که ولادیمیر و استراگون را از مواجهه با خودشان و موقعیت انسان باز می دارد. در لحظه آخر پیش از هوشیاری که چیزی نمانده ولادیمیر بفهمد در رویا بوده است و باید بیدار شود و با دنیا - همانطور که هست - روبرو شود، پیغام رسان گودو می رسد و دوباره او را به انفعال توهم می کشاند. بکت در مقاله ای در ارتباط با پروست،به طور ضمنی به این جنبه از در انتظار گودو یعنی "عادت امید داشتن" بیان می کند : عادت زنجیری است که سگ را به استفراغش می بندد، نفس کشیدن عادت است. زندگی عادت است یا ترجیحا توالی عادت هاست جون فرد در اثر تغییر پی در پی،توالی فرد هاست. پس عادت نام میثاق های بی شماری ست میان بی شمار سوژه که مجموعا فرد را می سازد و بی شمار ابژه وابسته شان. دوره های گذار که سازگاری های پی در پی فرد را از هم جدا می کند نمایانگر نواحی پر مخاطره ای در زندگی فرد است. پر خطر، بی ثبات، پر درد، پر راز و خلاق، وقتی لحظه ای رنج هستی جای ملال هستی را می گیرد.
گسنر در رساله ای خود درباره بکت عنوان می کند که در این اثر چهار شخصیت نمایش در مجموع 45 بار از وضعیت قائم که نماد شان انسانی ست خارج می شوند.
شروع نمایشنامه در هر دو پرده با این عبارت است: کاری نمی شود کرد.این جمله به صورت های مختلف و در موقعیت های گوناگون در نمایش تکرار می شود و فضای کلی نمایش را مشخص می کند.قرار نیست در این نمایش کاری انجام شود و اتفاقی رخ دهد. ولادیمیر و استراگون هیچ کاری نمی کنند.در واقع آنان بی عملی را کم خطر ترین عمل ممکن یافته اند.
مضمون دو دزد بر روی صلیب مضمون عدم قطعیت در امید به رستگاری و بخشوده شدن است، چیزی که بر تمام نمایش سایه افکنده است. هنگامی که از بکت در ارتباط با مضمون در انتظار گودو سوال شد وی چنین پاسخ داد: در نوشته های آگوستین قدیس جمله شگفت انگیزی هست، کاش لاتین آن را به یاد داشتم. به زبان لاتین حتی از زبان انگلیسی زیباتر است. " ناامید نباشید،یکی از دو دزد رستگار شد. مطمئن نباشید، یکی از دو دزد به لعنت ابدی گرفتار شد."
کاربرد نماد های مسیحی در نمایشنامه واضح است. کتک خوردن استراگون و خوابیدن در نهر یادآور مثل سامری نیکو* در عهد جدید است،با این تفاوت که دیگر نجات دهنده ای به داد استراگون نمی رسد. دو ولگرد در صحنه و تلی که بر آن درختی نیمه خشک قرار دارد و در حاشیه دورافتاده قرار گرفته است، می تواند یادآور وقایع جمعه الصلیب باشد (تلی بیرن از شهر = تپه جلجتا، دو ولگرد = دو دزد، چوب = صلیب، نماد رستگاری در بهار).
ولادیمیر به آمدن گودو در آن شنبه موعود اشاره می کند.آیا امروز شنبه است؟ آیا این همان شنبه مابین جمعه الصلیب ** و یکشنبه رستاخیز است؟آن فضای خالی میان تاریخ؟ شنبه ای که با یاس، ترس حواریون، سکوت و غیبت خدا و انتظار همراه بود؟ بر خلاف کتاب مقدس در پایان این نمایش، تاریخ در همان شنبه ی سکون می ماند و هیچ یکشنبه رستگاری و قیامی در کار نیست.
ولادیمیر و استراگون در حین مرور خاطرات،به افتادن در رودخانه و غرق شدن استراگون اشاره می کنند.این را نیز می توان اشاره ای به تعمید آب و تولد تازه در نظر گرفت. به کار بردن نام هابیل و قائن در نمایش،علاوه بر ارزش نمادین، نشان از جهان شمول بودن شخصیت های نمایش دارد.
از میان تکنیک های خاصی که بکت در این نمایشنامه به کار گرفته است می توان به آشفته اندیشی زمان و مکان و مبتذل نشان دادن احساسات آدمی اشاره کرد(ولادیمیر و استراگون یکدگیر را در آغوش می گیرند،اما فورا به خاطر بوی سیر از یکدیگر فاصله می گیرند).
در انتظار گودو مانند دیگر آثار ابزورد،ساختاری دورانی دارد. یکی بودن زمان و مکان در هر دو پرده،تکرار ریتمیک وقایع و تکرار شعر در ابتدای پرده دوم نشان از تسلسل باطل وقایع دارد. از شروع و پایان نمایشنامه مشخص است که تمام این وقایع با تفاوت اندکی در جزئیات،بارها و بارها تکرار شده و تکرار خواهند شد.بکت در این اثر یگانه نقطه قوت انسان نوین را به تصویر کشده است : انتظار!در انتظار...
* - مثل سامری نیکو: روزي يكي از ��علمين شريعت آمد و از راه امتحان از او پرسيد: «اي استاد، چه بايد بكنم تا وارث حيات جاودان شوم؟» عيسي به او فرمود: «در تورات چه نوشته شده؟ آن را چطور تفسير مي کني؟» او جواب داد: «خداي خود را با تمام دل و تمام جان و تمام قدرت و تمام ذهن خود دوست بدار و همسايه ات را مانند جان خود دوست بدار.» عيسي فرمود: «درست جواب دادي. اين كار را بكن كه حيات خواهي داشت.» اما او براي اينكه نشان دهد آدم بي غرضي است به عيسي گفت: «همسايه من كيست؟» عيسي چنين پاسخ داد: «مردي كه از اورشليم به اريحا مي رفت، به دست راهزنان افتاد. راهزنان او را لخت كردند و كتک زدند و به حال نيم مرده انداختند و رفتند. اتفاقا كاهني از همان راه مي گذشت، امّا وقتي او را ديد از طرف ديگر جاده رد شد. همچنين يک لاوي به آن محل رسيد و وقتي او را ديد از طرف ديگر عبور كرد. پس از آن يک مسافر سامري به او رسيد و وقتي او را ديد، دلش به حال او سوخت. نزد او رفت، زخمهايش را با شراب شست و بر آنها روغن ماليد و بست. بعد او را برداشته، سوار چهارپاي خود كرد و به كاروانسرايي برد و در آنجا از او پرستاري كرد. روز بعد دو سکه نقره درآورد و به صاحب كاروانسرا داد و گفت: 'از او مواظبت كن و اگر بيشتر از اين خرج كردي، وقتي برگردم به تو مي دهم.' به عقيده تو کدام يک از اين سه نفر همسايه آن مردي كه به دست دزدان افتاد به حساب مي آيد؟» جواب داد: «آن کسي که به او ترحم كرد.» عيسي فرمود: «برو مثل او رفتار كن.» لوقا 10 : 25 - 37
** - جمعه ای که مسیح به صلیب کشیده شد
August 28, 2019
خجالت نداره اگه هنوز خدمت سربازی نرسیده ای...و اخراج شدهی کارشناسی ارشد باشی!!!...خب...سگ دو زدن که افتخار نیست...تُف تو روحِ سربازی...اخراج از دانشگاه هم بالا بردن کلاه حضار را میطلبد...کفِ مرتب همراه با سوت...اما واقعا خجالت داره تا حالا در انتظار گودو رو نخونده باشی...شرم، شرم و هزاران شرم بر من.!!!
و همانا اینک ٢۷ ذوالحجه ١٤٤٠ از رستگاران شدم
و همانا اینک ٢۷ ذوالحجه ١٤٤٠ از رستگاران شدم
May 23, 2016
تقول الكاتبة المسرحية "سارا رول" في كتابها "مائة مقالة لم أكتبها" بأنها أخذت ابنها الصغير يومًا لمشاهدة عرض باليه، وبعد انتهاء العرض سألته عن رأيه، فقال : كان جميلاً ولكنه لم يعجبني!
دفعتها الإجابة للتفكير في ما لو كان البالغين يمتلكون نفس القدرة على هذا التفريق "الحيادي" بين الذوق وبين النقد. إذ جرت العادة، خصوصًا بين نقاد المسرحيات بحسب قولها، أن يحكموا على عمل ما بالسوء فورًا إذا لم يعجبهم أو يرتقي لذائقتهم!
أمّا أنا فقد دفعتني إجابة ابنها للتفكير في كل الأشياء الجميلة التي لا تعجبني:
لوحة الموناليزا
أغنية "هلو" للمغنية أديل
تمثال الحرية
قصائد أدونيس
مدينة لندن
و .. مسرحية "في انتظار جودو"!
أعترف أن العمل جميل ويحمل رسائل فلسفية عظيمة، ولكنه بكل بساطة لم يعجبني؛ ربما لأنني أؤمن بأن المسرحيات تُكتب لتُشاهَد لا لتُقرَأ!
دفعتها الإجابة للتفكير في ما لو كان البالغين يمتلكون نفس القدرة على هذا التفريق "الحيادي" بين الذوق وبين النقد. إذ جرت العادة، خصوصًا بين نقاد المسرحيات بحسب قولها، أن يحكموا على عمل ما بالسوء فورًا إذا لم يعجبهم أو يرتقي لذائقتهم!
أمّا أنا فقد دفعتني إجابة ابنها للتفكير في كل الأشياء الجميلة التي لا تعجبني:
لوحة الموناليزا
أغنية "هلو" للمغنية أديل
تمثال الحرية
قصائد أدونيس
مدينة لندن
و .. مسرحية "في انتظار جودو"!
أعترف أن العمل جميل ويحمل رسائل فلسفية عظيمة، ولكنه بكل بساطة لم يعجبني؛ ربما لأنني أؤمن بأن المسرحيات تُكتب لتُشاهَد لا لتُقرَأ!
June 16, 2024
[4.6⭐] 𝙀𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤 𝙖 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙩 es una obra del teatro del absurdo escrita por Samuel Beckett en el año 1949. Beckett era un erudito en literatura que estudió a autores como Shakespeare y Proust, es conocido por crear un teatro nuevo y revolucionario. 𝙀𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤 𝙖 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙩 se ha comparado a menudo con las obras de los bufones de Shakespeare ya que los protagonistas, Vladimir (Didi) y Estragón (Gogo) comparten características con estos personajes. Además, se ha relacionado con "El montaplatos" de Harold Pinter, otra pieza del teatro del absurdo, debido a la similitud en la situación y la dinámica entre los personajes principales.
La obra presenta una estructura única en dos actos, rompiendo con la tradicional de cinco actos. Este minimalismo estructural se refleja también en la escenografía: un espacio indeterminado con un árbol que, en el primer acto, no tiene hojas, y en el segundo, le crecen cuatro hojas, simbolizando un cambio que, paradójicamente, no altera en absoluto la situación de los personajes. Esta simplicidad resalta la esencia del teatro de Beckett, donde lo que importa es lo que los personajes dicen y hacen.
Los personajes son un reflejo de la condición humana. Vladimir y Estragón esperan a un tal Godot, que nunca llega, generando una espera interminable y vacía. Esta espera se ha interpretado de muchas maneras: desde la búsqueda de sentido en la vida, pasando por la dependencia y la rutina, hasta la desesperación ante la ausencia de trascendencia. Los nombres de los personajes también son simbólicos: Estragón, una hierba utilizada en la cocina, sugiere algo común y cotidiano, mientras que Vladimir evoca a figuras históricas y religiosas, agregando capas de significado.
Pozzo y Lucky, los otros dos personajes, presentan una relación de subordinación que subraya la dependencia y la explotación. Lucky, cuyo nombre significa "suertudo" en inglés, es irónicamente lo opuesto, lo que añade una capa de humor negro a la obra.
El lenguaje en la obra es incoherente, lleno de malos entendidos y malinterpretaciones, lo que subraya la absurda naturaleza de la comunicación humana. Este uso del lenguaje refleja la influencia de Beckett por autores como Shakespeare y su profundo conocimiento de la literatura.
La obra es minimalista no solo en su escenografía, sino también en su acción. Los personajes realizan una serie de movimientos repetitivos y reflejos, como ponerse y sacarse las botas o los sombreros, comer zanahorias, lo que refuerza la sensación de monotonía y futilidad de sus vidas.
Finalmente, 𝙀𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤 𝙖 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙩 es una obra increíble y, de momento, es mi favorita en el teatro del absurdo. Hay profundas reflexiones sobre la vida, la soledad y la desesperación. Es una obra que requiere de actores experimentados para captar la sutileza y la complejidad de los personajes y sus diálogos. El dramaturgo invita al lector a enfrentar las grandes preguntas de la existencia a través de una espera que parece eterna y sin sentido, pero que, al mismo tiempo, está llena de significado y reflexión.
La obra presenta una estructura única en dos actos, rompiendo con la tradicional de cinco actos. Este minimalismo estructural se refleja también en la escenografía: un espacio indeterminado con un árbol que, en el primer acto, no tiene hojas, y en el segundo, le crecen cuatro hojas, simbolizando un cambio que, paradójicamente, no altera en absoluto la situación de los personajes. Esta simplicidad resalta la esencia del teatro de Beckett, donde lo que importa es lo que los personajes dicen y hacen.
Los personajes son un reflejo de la condición humana. Vladimir y Estragón esperan a un tal Godot, que nunca llega, generando una espera interminable y vacía. Esta espera se ha interpretado de muchas maneras: desde la búsqueda de sentido en la vida, pasando por la dependencia y la rutina, hasta la desesperación ante la ausencia de trascendencia. Los nombres de los personajes también son simbólicos: Estragón, una hierba utilizada en la cocina, sugiere algo común y cotidiano, mientras que Vladimir evoca a figuras históricas y religiosas, agregando capas de significado.
Pozzo y Lucky, los otros dos personajes, presentan una relación de subordinación que subraya la dependencia y la explotación. Lucky, cuyo nombre significa "suertudo" en inglés, es irónicamente lo opuesto, lo que añade una capa de humor negro a la obra.
El lenguaje en la obra es incoherente, lleno de malos entendidos y malinterpretaciones, lo que subraya la absurda naturaleza de la comunicación humana. Este uso del lenguaje refleja la influencia de Beckett por autores como Shakespeare y su profundo conocimiento de la literatura.
La obra es minimalista no solo en su escenografía, sino también en su acción. Los personajes realizan una serie de movimientos repetitivos y reflejos, como ponerse y sacarse las botas o los sombreros, comer zanahorias, lo que refuerza la sensación de monotonía y futilidad de sus vidas.
Finalmente, 𝙀𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤 𝙖 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙩 es una obra increíble y, de momento, es mi favorita en el teatro del absurdo. Hay profundas reflexiones sobre la vida, la soledad y la desesperación. Es una obra que requiere de actores experimentados para captar la sutileza y la complejidad de los personajes y sus diálogos. El dramaturgo invita al lector a enfrentar las grandes preguntas de la existencia a través de una espera que parece eterna y sin sentido, pero que, al mismo tiempo, está llena de significado y reflexión.
April 4, 2020
ما منتظریم. کلافهایم. نه اعتراض نکن، ما تا سر حد مرگ کلافهایم. نمیشه اینو انکارکرد.
خُب یه تنوعی هم که پیدا میشه ما چکار میکنیم؟ میذاریم از دست بره. بیا، بیا مشغول شیم! (با گامهای بلند به سمت تپهی کوچک پیش میرود، میایستد.) تو یه لحظه همه چیز ناپدید میشه و ما یه بار دیگه تنها میشیم، میان هیچ و پوچ!
«ولادیمیر»
داستان از این قرار است که ولادیمیر و استراگون، هر دو آخرین روزهای زندگی خود را طی میکنند و انتظار فردی بهنام «گودو» را میکشند. آنها برای گذراندن این زمان، یک سفر عمیق به درون خود میروند تا هرچه دل تنگشان دارد را رو کنند، حتی در این بین دست به دامن ناسزا و فحش هم میشوند، که اتفاقا کار به دعوا و جرو بحث هم میکشد.
گودو: میتواند مسیح باشد،میتواند خدا باشد(God)
ولادیمیر: (موفقیت آمیز) اون گودوِ؛بالاخره! گودو! اون گودوِ! ما نجات پیدا کردیم!
و کسانِ دیگر!
خیلی خیلی خیلی خوشحالم این نمایشنامه رو خووندم،نمایشنامه ایی که سبک «معناباختگی» را دارد.
این کتاب رو با ترجمه عباسپور خواندم ولی به شما پیشنهاد میکنم قبل از خواندن حتما نقد و تفسیر این نمایشنامه بی نظیر را بخوانید!
۵ ستارهی درخشان به سبک ویژهی بکت 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
به قول بکت: «تمام زندگی انتظار است»
پیشنهاد ویژه: ترجمه علیزاد از نشر بیدگل مطالعه کنید.
خُب یه تنوعی هم که پیدا میشه ما چکار میکنیم؟ میذاریم از دست بره. بیا، بیا مشغول شیم! (با گامهای بلند به سمت تپهی کوچک پیش میرود، میایستد.) تو یه لحظه همه چیز ناپدید میشه و ما یه بار دیگه تنها میشیم، میان هیچ و پوچ!
«ولادیمیر»
داستان از این قرار است که ولادیمیر و استراگون، هر دو آخرین روزهای زندگی خود را طی میکنند و انتظار فردی بهنام «گودو» را میکشند. آنها برای گذراندن این زمان، یک سفر عمیق به درون خود میروند تا هرچه دل تنگشان دارد را رو کنند، حتی در این بین دست به دامن ناسزا و فحش هم میشوند، که اتفاقا کار به دعوا و جرو بحث هم میکشد.
گودو: میتواند مسیح باشد،میتواند خدا باشد(God)
ولادیمیر: (موفقیت آمیز) اون گودوِ؛بالاخره! گودو! اون گودوِ! ما نجات پیدا کردیم!
و کسانِ دیگر!
خیلی خیلی خیلی خوشحالم این نمایشنامه رو خووندم،نمایشنامه ایی که سبک «معناباختگی» را دارد.
این کتاب رو با ترجمه عباسپور خواندم ولی به شما پیشنهاد میکنم قبل از خواندن حتما نقد و تفسیر این نمایشنامه بی نظیر را بخوانید!
۵ ستارهی درخشان به سبک ویژهی بکت 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
به قول بکت: «تمام زندگی انتظار است»
پیشنهاد ویژه: ترجمه علیزاد از نشر بیدگل مطالعه کنید.
June 26, 2025
Time is a slow Killer
Today : Vladimir and Estragon are sitting on a bench talking about this and that
What are they doing?
They are waiting for Godot…
Yesterday : Vladimir and Estragon were sitting on a bench talking about this and that
What were they doing?
They were waiting for Godot…
The day before yesterday : Vladimir and Estragon were sitting on a bench ……….
What were they doing?
They were waiting for Godot…
Etc, etc….
And now it’s time for the treasure hunt , i.e., let’s embark on a quest for meaning in this chaotic nonsense:
Who is this Godot, after all?!
Although the answer is not explicit in the book, I believe it’s not hard to find: if two guys are repeatedly doing the same absurd things every day of their lives, what are they really doing after all?! Or — rephrasing the question — , what are they passively waiting for?!…
Well… it looks like Beckett just found a different name for Death 😜
(My) Moral of the story:
Next time we catch ourselves killing time we should be aware that time is also killing us… 😜
………………..
Afinal Quem É Godot ?
Hoje: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore conversam sobre isto e aquilo ( cenouras, nabos, vozes do além, suicídio, bíblia ...)
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!
Amanhã: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore retomam os seus diálogos absurdos...
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!
Depois de Amanhã: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore prosseguem com as suas habituais conversas desconexas...
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!
....................
Se cada dia, Vladimir e Estragon se sentam no mesmo local entabulando conversas absurdas, alegando que esperam por um Godot que nunca viram antes, que não sabem se irá lá ter, nem tão pouco em que dia virá, quem esperam eles afinal?...
O que vejo aqui é uma simulação da vida como uma repetição absurda de cada dia que redunda numa espera contínua pela morte.
Confesso que já vi tratar a Morte por muitos nomes, mas Godot... Godot é a primeira vez! 😜
Contudo, considero ser um excelente nome para caracterizar aqueles dias de intensa abulia:
- Então que fazes?
- Não faço nada — estou à espera de Godot!... 😉
A alegoria aqui presente, não será uma fórmula válida para todos, mas aplica-se a bastantes! 😜
Today : Vladimir and Estragon are sitting on a bench talking about this and that
What are they doing?
They are waiting for Godot…
Yesterday : Vladimir and Estragon were sitting on a bench talking about this and that
What were they doing?
They were waiting for Godot…
The day before yesterday : Vladimir and Estragon were sitting on a bench ……….
What were they doing?
They were waiting for Godot…
Etc, etc….
And now it’s time for the treasure hunt , i.e., let’s embark on a quest for meaning in this chaotic nonsense:
Who is this Godot, after all?!
Although the answer is not explicit in the book, I believe it’s not hard to find: if two guys are repeatedly doing the same absurd things every day of their lives, what are they really doing after all?! Or — rephrasing the question — , what are they passively waiting for?!…
Well… it looks like Beckett just found a different name for Death 😜
(My) Moral of the story:
Next time we catch ourselves killing time we should be aware that time is also killing us… 😜
………………..
Afinal Quem É Godot ?
Hoje: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore conversam sobre isto e aquilo ( cenouras, nabos, vozes do além, suicídio, bíblia ...)
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!
Amanhã: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore retomam os seus diálogos absurdos...
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!
Depois de Amanhã: Vladimir e Estragon sentados perto da árvore prosseguem com as suas habituais conversas desconexas...
Que fazem eles?... Esperam por Godot!
....................
Se cada dia, Vladimir e Estragon se sentam no mesmo local entabulando conversas absurdas, alegando que esperam por um Godot que nunca viram antes, que não sabem se irá lá ter, nem tão pouco em que dia virá, quem esperam eles afinal?...
O que vejo aqui é uma simulação da vida como uma repetição absurda de cada dia que redunda numa espera contínua pela morte.
Confesso que já vi tratar a Morte por muitos nomes, mas Godot... Godot é a primeira vez! 😜
Contudo, considero ser um excelente nome para caracterizar aqueles dias de intensa abulia:
- Então que fazes?
- Não faço nada — estou à espera de Godot!... 😉
A alegoria aqui presente, não será uma fórmula válida para todos, mas aplica-se a bastantes! 😜
January 24, 2020
Bulgarian review below/Ревюто на български е по-долу
In many of the film scores which he composed, Hans Zimmer includes a ticking clock motif. In “Dunkirk” he even used the so-called Shepard tone – an auditory illusion whose pitch sounds like it is constantly ascending, although it remains the same. In his play Samuel Beckett also hangs an imaginary giant clock (perhaps on that same lonely tree where the characters want to hang themselves) to tick time away for Estragon and Vladimir, but gives up the suspense technique. There is no suspense. There also seems to be a vacuum of time, though we can clearly hear the ticking, which shows that time is actually passing. There is only endless waiting.
“Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful!”
Beckett was inspired for his play from Caspar David Friedrich’s painting “Two Men Contemplating the Moon”. The sombre figures and the silhouette of the dead tree eerily contrast the golden moon in the distance. In the same way both V. and E. are constantly straining their eyes to see their shining moon on the horizon – their Godot – but what they lack is dynamics. “The air is full of our cries”, says Vladimir. “But habit is a great deadener”. And the habit of doing nothing when you are muffled by the long cold fingers of meaninglessness doesn’t let its victims escape easily. In an interview, Maria Popova says “Critical thinking without hope is cynicism. Hope without critical thinking is naïveté”. V. and E. naively hope that their salvation will come from outside, not from themselves. That is why they are caught in the impossible vicious circle of waiting for someone to bring meaning to them, but the meaning in their existence is to wait for someone to bring meaning to them.
“We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?”
We humans are great specialists in giving ourselves the impression that we exist. Even to delude ourselves that the things we do are somewhat meaningful. We would have gone mad otherwise. Maybe we have? “We are all born mad. Some remain so”. Godot is an allegory of what we all are waiting for. Probably also what we turn into while waiting. Perhaps the meaning is to search for meaning, not to expect it to come to you. Maybe there is no meaning. Where are you, Godot?
Beckett’s play is a representative of the theater of absurdity and its scrutiny of existentialism. Life is empty in anticipation of Godot, even communication is a broken wing of a bird, irrational, losing its own thread, a half-life. Samuel Beckett, who prefers “France at war to Ireland at peace”, who, in his own words, writes because he’s fit for nothing else, in his play expresses that mute frantic scream we would all emit if absurdists are really right. They suspect that existence has no meaning, but since this cannot be proven, we have the choice of committing suicide or not. Vladimir and Estragon also consider hanging themselves in a very matter-of-factly tone a few times.
“All evening we have struggled, unassisted.”
It’s almost unbearable to be left to your own devices and your choices. Wondering whether to head for the unfamiliar, not knowing how dangerous it is or stay in the dreadful familiar whose degree of dreadfulness you already know. From an evolutionary point of view we are designed to place sure bets because there is always a swarm of bad things lurking in the dark. The unfamiliar is darkness. In fact, with the night approaching, V. and E. calm down, as if their trial is over for the day – night is a metaphor for death, and when you are dead, you are not expected to continue the painful search for meaning.
“Waiting for Godot” is quite an abstract play which is subject to all sorts of interpretations. Beckett was annoyed by this and wondered why people try to complicate something that was otherwise so simple. A literary critic said that virtually nothing happens in the play. What is more, since Act II is almost a repetition of the Act I, then nothing happens twice. Will there be any point reading “Waiting for Godot” then? There will – because of the lifeless atmosphere that is a reflection of life – life is also very illogical at times, because of the irony and the fragments of pungent insight. And to search for a meaning for yourselves. Always for that.
“That's how it is on this bitch of an earth.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
В доста от филмите, за които е композирал музика, Ханс Цимер включва мотив с тиктакащ часовник. В „Дюнкерк“ дори използва т.нар. тон на Шепард – звукова илюзия, при която ни се струва, че чуваното непрестанно се усилва, макар то да остава същото. В своята пиеса Самюел Бекет също обесва въображаем гигантски часовник (може би на онова самотно дърво, където и персонажите искат да се обесят), който отмерва времето за Естрагон и Владимир, но се отказва от похвата с нагнетяване на напрежението. Напрежение няма. Време също като че ли няма, въпреки че отчетливо чуваме цъкането, което показва как то всъщност си отива. Има само едно безконечно чакане.
„Нищо не се случва, никой не идва, никой не си отива, ужасна работа.“
Бекет се вдъхновил за написването на пиесата си от картината на Каспар Давид Фридрих „Двама души, съзерцаващи луната“. Мрачните фигури и силуетът на мъртвото дърво леко зловещо контрастират на златистата луна в далечината. Така и В. и Е. непрестанно напрягат взор да видят своята грееща луна на хоризонта – своя Годо – но това, което им липсва, е динамика. „Въздухът е пълен с нашите крясъци“, казва Владимир. „Но навикът е голям заглушител“. А навикът да не правиш нищо, когато си скован от студените дълги пръсти на безсмислието, не пуска никак лесно жертвите си. В едно интервю Мария Попова казва, че критичното мислене без надежда е цинизъм, но надеждата без критично мислене е наивитет. В. и Е. наивно се надяват, че спасението им ще дойде някъде отвън, а не от тях самите. Затова са и хванати в невъзможния кръгов капан на това да очакват някой да им донесе смисъл, но смисълът на битието им да е да чакат някого, който да им донесе смисъл.
„Винаги намираме нещо, а, Диди, за да си даваме вид, че съществуваме, нали?“
Хората сме големи специалисти в това просто да си даваме вид, че съществуваме. Дори да се самозаблуждаваме, че нещата, които вършим, все пак имат някакво значение. Бихме полудели иначе. А може би сме? „Всички се раждаме луди. Някои си остават“. Годо е алегория на онова, което всички чакаме. Вероятно и на това, в което се превръщаме, докато чакаме. Може би смисълът е да търсиш смисъл, не да го очакваш сам да дойде при теб. А може би го няма никакъв. Къде си, Годо?
Пиесата на Бекет е представител на театъра на абсурда и неговото вглеждане в екзистенциализма. Животът е безсъдържателен в очакване на Годо, общуването дори е пречупено крило на птица, ирационално, губещо собствената си нишка, в период на полуразпад. Самюел Бекет, който предпочита „Франция във война, отколкото Ирландия в мир“, който по негови думи пише, защото за друго не го бива, изразява в пиесата си онзи ням неистов вик, в който всички бихме зинали, ако абсурдистите наистина са прави. Те подозират, че смисъл да се съществува наистина няма, но тъй като това е непроверяемо, ни остава изборът дали да се самоубием или не. Владимир и Естрагон също обмислят обесване със съвсем делничен тон на няколко пъти.
„Цяла вечер се борихме, оставени сами на себе си.“
Почти непоносимо е да си оставен сам на себе си и на изборите си. Да се питаш дали да тръгнеш към непознатото, което не знаеш колко е страшно, или да останеш в ужасното познато, което все пак знаеш колко е страшно. От еволюционна гледна точка ни е заложено да играем на сигурно, защото в мрака винаги дебнат много лоши неща. Непознатото е мрак. Всъщност с наближаването на нощта В. и Е. се поуспокояват, все едно изпитанието им за деня е приключило – нощта е метафора на смъртта, а когато си мъртъв, от теб не се очаква мъчително да търсиш някакъв смисъл.
„В очакване на Годо“ е доста абстрактна пиеса, която е обект на какви ли не интерпретации. Бекет бил подразнен от това и се чудел защо хората се опитват да усложняват нещо, което иначе си е толкова просто. Един литературен критик казва, че в пиесата на практика нищо не се случва. Нещо повече – тъй като второ действие е почти повторение на първо, то нищо не се случва два пъти. Ще има ли защо да прочетете „Годо“ тогава? Ще има – заради безжизнената атмосфера, която е отражение на живота – защото и в него невинаги има логика, заради иронията и откъслеците хапливи прозрения. И за да потърсите и вие смисъла. Винаги заради това.
„Такива ми ти работи на тая тъпа земя.“
In many of the film scores which he composed, Hans Zimmer includes a ticking clock motif. In “Dunkirk” he even used the so-called Shepard tone – an auditory illusion whose pitch sounds like it is constantly ascending, although it remains the same. In his play Samuel Beckett also hangs an imaginary giant clock (perhaps on that same lonely tree where the characters want to hang themselves) to tick time away for Estragon and Vladimir, but gives up the suspense technique. There is no suspense. There also seems to be a vacuum of time, though we can clearly hear the ticking, which shows that time is actually passing. There is only endless waiting.
“Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful!”
Beckett was inspired for his play from Caspar David Friedrich’s painting “Two Men Contemplating the Moon”. The sombre figures and the silhouette of the dead tree eerily contrast the golden moon in the distance. In the same way both V. and E. are constantly straining their eyes to see their shining moon on the horizon – their Godot – but what they lack is dynamics. “The air is full of our cries”, says Vladimir. “But habit is a great deadener”. And the habit of doing nothing when you are muffled by the long cold fingers of meaninglessness doesn’t let its victims escape easily. In an interview, Maria Popova says “Critical thinking without hope is cynicism. Hope without critical thinking is naïveté”. V. and E. naively hope that their salvation will come from outside, not from themselves. That is why they are caught in the impossible vicious circle of waiting for someone to bring meaning to them, but the meaning in their existence is to wait for someone to bring meaning to them.
“We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?”
We humans are great specialists in giving ourselves the impression that we exist. Even to delude ourselves that the things we do are somewhat meaningful. We would have gone mad otherwise. Maybe we have? “We are all born mad. Some remain so”. Godot is an allegory of what we all are waiting for. Probably also what we turn into while waiting. Perhaps the meaning is to search for meaning, not to expect it to come to you. Maybe there is no meaning. Where are you, Godot?
Beckett’s play is a representative of the theater of absurdity and its scrutiny of existentialism. Life is empty in anticipation of Godot, even communication is a broken wing of a bird, irrational, losing its own thread, a half-life. Samuel Beckett, who prefers “France at war to Ireland at peace”, who, in his own words, writes because he’s fit for nothing else, in his play expresses that mute frantic scream we would all emit if absurdists are really right. They suspect that existence has no meaning, but since this cannot be proven, we have the choice of committing suicide or not. Vladimir and Estragon also consider hanging themselves in a very matter-of-factly tone a few times.
“All evening we have struggled, unassisted.”
It’s almost unbearable to be left to your own devices and your choices. Wondering whether to head for the unfamiliar, not knowing how dangerous it is or stay in the dreadful familiar whose degree of dreadfulness you already know. From an evolutionary point of view we are designed to place sure bets because there is always a swarm of bad things lurking in the dark. The unfamiliar is darkness. In fact, with the night approaching, V. and E. calm down, as if their trial is over for the day – night is a metaphor for death, and when you are dead, you are not expected to continue the painful search for meaning.
“Waiting for Godot” is quite an abstract play which is subject to all sorts of interpretations. Beckett was annoyed by this and wondered why people try to complicate something that was otherwise so simple. A literary critic said that virtually nothing happens in the play. What is more, since Act II is almost a repetition of the Act I, then nothing happens twice. Will there be any point reading “Waiting for Godot” then? There will – because of the lifeless atmosphere that is a reflection of life – life is also very illogical at times, because of the irony and the fragments of pungent insight. And to search for a meaning for yourselves. Always for that.
“That's how it is on this bitch of an earth.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
В доста от филмите, за които е композирал музика, Ханс Цимер включва мотив с тиктакащ часовник. В „Дюнкерк“ дори използва т.нар. тон на Шепард – звукова илюзия, при която ни се струва, че чуваното непрестанно се усилва, макар то да остава същото. В своята пиеса Самюел Бекет също обесва въображаем гигантски часовник (може би на онова самотно дърво, където и персонажите искат да се обесят), който отмерва времето за Естрагон и Владимир, но се отказва от похвата с нагнетяване на напрежението. Напрежение няма. Време също като че ли няма, въпреки че отчетливо чуваме цъкането, което показва как то всъщност си отива. Има само едно безконечно чакане.
„Нищо не се случва, никой не идва, никой не си отива, ужасна работа.“
Бекет се вдъхновил за написването на пиесата си от картината на Каспар Давид Фридрих „Двама души, съзерцаващи луната“. Мрачните фигури и силуетът на мъртвото дърво леко зловещо контрастират на златистата луна в далечината. Така и В. и Е. непрестанно напрягат взор да видят своята грееща луна на хоризонта – своя Годо – но това, което им липсва, е динамика. „Въздухът е пълен с нашите крясъци“, казва Владимир. „Но навикът е голям заглушител“. А навикът да не правиш нищо, когато си скован от студените дълги пръсти на безсмислието, не пуска никак лесно жертвите си. В едно интервю Мария Попова казва, че критичното мислене без надежда е цинизъм, но надеждата без критично мислене е наивитет. В. и Е. наивно се надяват, че спасението им ще дойде някъде отвън, а не от тях самите. Затова са и хванати в невъзможния кръгов капан на това да очакват някой да им донесе смисъл, но смисълът на битието им да е да чакат някого, който да им донесе смисъл.
„Винаги намираме нещо, а, Диди, за да си даваме вид, че съществуваме, нали?“
Хората сме големи специалисти в това просто да си даваме вид, че съществуваме. Дори да се самозаблуждаваме, че нещата, които вършим, все пак имат някакво значение. Бихме полудели иначе. А може би сме? „Всички се раждаме луди. Някои си остават“. Годо е алегория на онова, което всички чакаме. Вероятно и на това, в което се превръщаме, докато чакаме. Може би смисълът е да търсиш смисъл, не да го очакваш сам да дойде при теб. А може би го няма никакъв. Къде си, Годо?
Пиесата на Бекет е представител на театъра на абсурда и неговото вглеждане в екзистенциализма. Животът е безсъдържателен в очакване на Годо, общуването дори е пречупено крило на птица, ирационално, губещо собствената си нишка, в период на полуразпад. Самюел Бекет, който предпочита „Франция във война, отколкото Ирландия в мир“, който по негови думи пише, защото за друго не го бива, изразява в пиесата си онзи ням неистов вик, в който всички бихме зинали, ако абсурдистите наистина са прави. Те подозират, че смисъл да се съществува наистина няма, но тъй като това е непроверяемо, ни остава изборът дали да се самоубием или не. Владимир и Естрагон също обмислят обесване със съвсем делничен тон на няколко пъти.
„Цяла вечер се борихме, оставени сами на себе си.“
Почти непоносимо е да си оставен сам на себе си и на изборите си. Да се питаш дали да тръгнеш към непознатото, което не знаеш колко е страшно, или да останеш в ужасното познато, което все пак знаеш колко е страшно. От еволюционна гледна точка ни е заложено да играем на сигурно, защото в мрака винаги дебнат много лоши неща. Непознатото е мрак. Всъщност с наближаването на нощта В. и Е. се поуспокояват, все едно изпитанието им за деня е приключило – нощта е метафора на смъртта, а когато си мъртъв, от теб не се очаква мъчително да търсиш някакъв смисъл.
„В очакване на Годо“ е доста абстрактна пиеса, която е обект на какви ли не интерпретации. Бекет бил подразнен от това и се чудел защо хората се опитват да усложняват нещо, което иначе си е толкова просто. Един литературен критик казва, че в пиесата на практика нищо не се случва. Нещо повече – тъй като второ действие е почти повторение на първо, то нищо не се случва два пъти. Ще има ли защо да прочетете „Годо“ тогава? Ще има – заради безжизнената атмосфера, която е отражение на живота – защото и в него невинаги има логика, заради иронията и откъслеците хапливи прозрения. И за да потърсите и вие смисъла. Винаги заради това.
„Такива ми ти работи на тая тъпа земя.“
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