I've been reading plays by Samuel Beckett—the two most famous ones, Waiting for Godot and Endgame. They are meant for the theatre, not the study: lots of stage directions, the most common being
[Pause.]
When you're reading along, at least when I'm reading along, the tendency is to hurdle past to the words the characters speak, and one then misses the effect of haltingness, perplexity, befuddlement that is created in the theater. A mime act would be nothing but stage directions, and Beckett was moving in that direction: Godot premiered in 1953, Endgame in 1957, the same year as the aptly entitled "Act Without Words, A Mime for One Player." For some reason, pathos and futility lend themselves to wordless gestures. If things get bad enough, you quit talking, there's nothing to say, and the movements you make—sagging shoulders—tell the tale. But in Godot and Endgame the characters are still talking. It's often sort of funny. I imagine the audience often laughing, though a little uneasily. A professor maybe wouldn't approve but Beckett makes me think of Laurel and Hardy taking on Big Topics. For example, in Waiting for Godot, the scene is described tersely as
A country road. A tree. Evening.
and, before long, the two main characters discuss whether to hang themselves from the tree:
Estragon: Let's hang ourselves immediately!
Vladimir: From a bough? [They go towards the tree.] I wouldn't trust it.
Estragon: We can always try.
Vladimir: Go ahead.
Estragon: After you.
Vladimir: No no, you first.
Estragon: Why me?
Vladimir: You're lighter than I am.
Estragon: Just so!
Vladimir: I don't understand.
Estragon: Use your intelligence, can't you?
[Vladimir uses his intelligence.]
Vladimir: [finally]. I remain in the dark.
Estragon: This is how it is. [He reflects.] The bough . . . the bough . . . [Angrily.] Use your head, can't you?
Vladimir: You're my only hope.
Estragon: [with effort]. Gogo light—bough not break—Gogo dead. Didi heavy—bough break—Didi alone. Whereas—
Vladimir: I hadn't thought of that.
They decide to do nothing drastic till Godot arrives. They wait and talk the whole play long and of course Godot never comes. At the end, they agree to give up and leave. The play then ends with the last stage direction: [They do not move.]
The landscape of Endgame is similarly desolate. There are four characters. The two older ones are in trashcans out of which, soiled, they occasionally rise to speak before sinking back down in the filth. One of the younger characters at one point tells the following "joke":
[Raconteur's voice.}
An Englishman, needing a pair of striped trousers in a hurry for the New Year festivities, goes to his tailor who takes his measurements.
[Tailor's voice.]
"That's the lot, come back in four days, I'll have it ready."
Good. Four days later.
[Tailor's voice.]
"So sorry, come back in a week, I've made a mess of the seat."
Good, that's all right, a neat seat can be very ticklish. A week later.
[Tailor's voice.]
"Frightfully sorry, come back in ten days, I've made a hash of the crotch."
Good, can't be helped, a snug crotch is always a teaser. Ten days later.
[Tailor's voice.]
"Dreadfully sorry, come back in a fortnight, I've made a balls of the fly."
Good, at a pinch, a smart fly is a stiff proposition.
[Pause. Normal voice.]
I never told it worse.
[Pause. Gloomy.]
I tell this story worse and worse.
[Pause. Raconteur's voice.]
Well, to make it short, the bluebells are blowing and he ballockses the buttonholes.
[Customer's voice.]
"God damn you to hell, Sir, no, it's indecent, there are limits! In six days, do you hear me, six days, God made the world. Yes Sir, no less Sir, the WORLD! And you are not bloody well capable of making me a pair of trousers in three months!"
[Tailor's voice, scandalized.]
"But my dear Sir, my dear Sir, look—
[disdainful gesture, disgustedly]
—at the world—
[pause]
and look—
[loving gesture, proudly]
—at my TROUSERS!
The world he gestures at with disdain and disgust is mostly barren but with trashcans—the world according to Samuel Beckett.
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