Local cast delivers bleak, brilliant Beckett classic

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This article was published 14/06/2025 (485 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

A recurring line that runs like a leitmotiv through Samuel Beckett’s absurdist masterpiece Waiting for Godot is: “What do we do now?”

Well, in this case, not much of anything, other than ponder existential questions regarding happiness, love, loneliness and God, not to mention the frailties of the hopelessly mortal, fallible human condition itself.

Shakespeare in the Ruins launched its second show of its summer season Friday night, with a rare local live production of Waiting for Godot, performed al fresco among the ruins at Trappist Monastery Provincial Heritage Park.

The intimate 150-minute show (including intermission), ably directed by SIR artistic director Rodrigo Beilfuss, is performed in repertory with the company’s ongoing mainstage show, Macbeth.

Godot has puzzled and perplexed audiences ever since its 1953 première with its simple story about two seemingly homeless men waiting endlessly for the mysterious title character.

Beckett’s enigmatic narrative teems with non-sequiturs and mundane observations, in turn punctuated by snappy wordplay and the occasional, heartbreaking zinger that pierces the tragicomedy’s lighter moments like a rapier.

It’s also not exactly a plot-driven drama, relying instead on strongly forged characters and their fleshed-out relationships as they form and then fall apart.

Local thespians Arne MacPherson as Vladimir (Didi) and Cory Wojcik as his long-suffering pal Estragon (Gogo) prove a well-matched team, dressed in costume designer Anika Binding’s ragtag suits and bowler hats, as they spar and bicker, bare their souls and ultimately cling to each other.

Set/props designer Lovissa Wiens creates a barren landscape, including a deliciously industrial “tree” wrapped in chicken wire and brambles, with cast-off shoes and junkyard garbage bags — even a broken TV set — strewn about the edges of the monastery, creating a desolate playground of decay.

MacPherson — a founding member of SiR who dazzled as the title character during last year’s production of Iago Speaks — compels as the duo’s “thinker,” although his matter-of-fact, often more rapid-fire vocal style, especially during his repeated references to Godot, invariably dilutes the absurdity of his portrayal.

While it all boils down to personal taste, Godot — a mysterious, Oz-like figure — should be addressed with more solemnity and even reverence to create greater subtext, as well as a more pronounced schism between stark reality and dreamy imagination, the gap between what is and what can be in a world of bleakness.

Despite this artistic choice, however, one of his final, blink-and-you-miss it lines, “Tell (Godot) that you saw me, and that you saw me,” packs an existential punch of self-identity and validation; it’s one of the play’s most resonant themes — if not the very point of it all.

For his part, Wojcik crafts a stumbling, carrot-loving tramp with the heart of a poet who gnaws on chicken bones and frets about such physical needs as sleep and comfortable boots. His razor-sharp timing and agile inflection help him toss off such salient lines as “We are all born mad; some remain so,” as well as ruing “Nothing to be done,” a key sentiment.

Tom Keenan (King Duncan, witch and porter in Macbeth) crafts a powder-keg Pozzo, ready to blow, ferociously cracking his riding whip when he burst onto the stage with his battered, tethered slave, Lucky (Liam Dutiaume, marking his professional debut) midway through Act I.

His compelling, volatile portrayal immediately pumps the show with larger-than-life theatricality, his declaration, “I am Pozzo,” thundering across the ruins as he stands atop a large Tyndall stone block.

A special bravo to Dutiaume for a brilliant, less-is-more rendering of his ironically named, white-wigged zombie, his sunken eyes transfixed as he dutifully obeys Pozzo’s barked commands.

The actor, also appearing as Malcolm and Witch in Macbeth, nails Lucky’s big speech (following his shuffling dance), proving to Vladimir and Estragon his ability to “think” by delivering a staccato word salad of nonsensical imagery, pithy bon mots and guttural utterances.

Beilfuss’s thoughtful blocking (which at times is overly static, as when Pozzo is seated on his stool for far too long) adds texture to his overall delivery, seeing Lucky climb onto the stone block to spew out words directly to the audience.

His pacing might have been quicker — a tall order, to be sure — to convey Lucky’s rising desperation, although kudos are owed to the actor for fearlessly attacking Beckett’s knotty text.

The show highlights the first joint professional stage appearance by Wojcik and his actor son Mackenzie (Witch in Macbeth). The latter makes every moment count as the goat-herder “Boy,” delivering messages from Godot, his spot-on conviction and guileless innocence proving the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The play itself ends not with a bang, but a whimper. There is no resolution; Godot never arrives. While some pundits surmise that Beckett’s play is about inertia, with a chaser of pre-supposed meaningless of life, Estragon’s potent Act II question to Vladimir — “Do you think God sees me?” — refutes the perennial argument that Godot is fundamentally a secular play.

In the end, this cryptic conundrum will never be answered, and will continue, as it has for the last 73 years, to elicit a prism of interpretation by all those who see it. But that’s probably just how its stable of all-too-human, flawed characters, as they grit their teeth and grapple with “life,” would have liked it.

holly.harris@shaw.ca