In a word, the set is exquisite. Dadaesque in its surrealistic simplicity, the stark landscape of nowhere, punctuated by a barren tree and large stone. The shabby tramps Estragon (Aaron Monaghan) and Vladimir (Marty Rea) bicker, contemplate suicide, discuss life, and wait endlessly for M. Godot. They discuss separating and/or leaving but are unable to do either. Enter the fantastic duo of master and slave, Pozzo (Rory Nolan) and Lucky (Lombard). The actors are nothing short of spectacular in creating the world of the play—in which the apparently insignificant becomes alarmingly important. Estragon and Vladimir are all of us, of course—lonely, desperate souls seeking escape and finding solace, humor, and at times, imprisonment, in each other.
Pazzo and Lucky are different versions of us—the master and slave engaged in an endless power struggle. Lucky, the slave, only comes to life when Pazzo tells him to think, his long speech one long utterance of brilliance that comes to an abrupt halt when he reassumes his hunched over position, rope around his neck as Pazzo pulls him along.
Of course, there are a myriad of ways to interpret Beckett’s statement about the way humans allow themselves to be enslaved by others or take lordship over the “thinking” abilities of those beneath them. Regardless of the interpretation, the actors paint a vivid portrait of postmodern alienation in this timeless production. Successfully, the artists pose the still relevant question: Just how much humanity do you have to give up for the sake of progress?
