Cerebral “Endgame” confounds audiences at Berkshire Theatre Festival
Last night a brilliant production of the most peculiar play in the theatrical canon opened at the Berkshire Theatre Festival. but some members of a group that bought tickets were left totally puzzled. And pissed. “This play is too hard,” one of them said afterwards. If you are a regular theatre goer you know instantly that it’s likely a Samuel Beckett play, probably Endgame. And you would be right. Damn, it is a hard play to figure out. What we can say for sure is that this is not the play to offer to someone who has never been to a live theatre performance before, unless you want to be sure they never go again.
Endgame is a lot of things, but it is not an evening of escapist entertainment. Rather, it is a half-dream, half-reality look into the disturbed mind of a great playwright who exorcised his demons by writing about them. This play was written when Beckett hit 51, and had spent what no doubt felt like years sitting at the bedside of dying relatives, going through the peculiar (there’s that word again) rituals that the Irish of Ireland have built around the process of dying.
Throughout the play there are allusions to it, and there’s no shortage of metaphors and similes about death and the futility of life in its ninety minute course. There are some chuckles, especially as the evening progresses and the audience becomes familiar with the strange rituals and relationships taking place.
It was written back when the “theatre of the absurd” (French: Théatre de l’Absurde) was in full swing, and Beckett’s plays were mostly presented in impromptu spaces. Beckett wrote his works in the 40′s, 50′s and 60′s and I am old enough to remember the latter period’s experimental theatre. It was cheap, puzzling and good fun. Absurdity was practiced by largely European playwrights whose work had several basic underpinnings. Essential to the form is the belief that because we live in a godless universe, life has no real meaning or purpose. What these works have in common is broad comedy set in a horrific or tragic situation where the characters are hopeless to change anything, and doomed to repeat meaningless actions, and with dialogue that is full of clichés, wordplay, and nonsense. Nobody does this better than Beckett. Others in that school (some more obtuse than others) include Albee, Genet, Ionesco, Pinter, and Stoppard.
In many ways Endgame is a parody of a play, the antithesis of escapism. You don’t go to see Beckett to escape, but rather find yourself trapped in another reality. Sort of.
The focal point of the current Endgame are Hamm and Clov, whose names are direct giveaways. Hamm, played by the brilliant Mark Corkins is indeed a role for an actor who goes over the top. And Clov, as played by David Chandler is the spice in a dominant-submissive relationship.
Let me try to give you a taste of what is involved. When the play begins, and after five minutes or so of fussing with windows and a ladder Clov says:
“Finished, It’s finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished. (Pause) Grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly, there’s a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap. (Pause) I can’t be punished any more.”
He’s old, the days have passed one after another, his unhappiness is almost at an end.
Imagining oneself an actor, and re-reading those lines as if to recite them in a theatre, it becomes instantly apparent why actors love this playwright so much. Each phrase has endless possibilities. In the Mark Corkins version of Hamm he is alternately bombastic and pensive, while David Chandler’s Clov is both slow and methodical. In the play, Hamm can’t stand, and Clov can’t sit. Hamm is confined to a chair with wheels. Clov ritually takes him on chair rides around the room which is the extent of their world. At the end he returns the chair to the precise middle of the room from which Hamm rules and controls all. Totally dependent, he manages to boss everyone around. Absurd. Or is it? Think Howard Hughes.
Adding a little color to the proceedings are Nell and Nagg, two elderly and apparently legless people confined for the duration of the play to their trash barrels. Talk about metaphors. Turns out they are the parents of Hamm, yet in their old and declining condition are treated more as nuisances than human beings. Randy Harrison plays Nagg, often forced to listen to the meanderings of Hamm, promised a sugar plum in return, only to have that promise broken. Perhaps Beckett the playwright is getting even for some of the broken promises of his own childhood.
As Nagg, Harrison is all face and hands, which are incredibly expressive, and constantly reaches out to touch Nell, who is in the adjoining barrel, struggling to hold on to life. Nell, played by Tanya Dougherty, is the only sweet thing in the play, the long suffering mother who must suffer some more before she has the good sense to expire before the play is finished. Or nearly finished. Whether she ends up in a heap the audience can’t tell. At the end of her life she hits the bottom of her barrel. Such is the bleak, black humor of Beckett.
The nightmarish aspects of the play include Clov’s frequent failed attempts to leave the room (and his final return after vowing to leave) and Hamm’s insistence on returning to the center of the room. Beckett’s characters are stuck in eternally static routines. They go through the “farce” of routine actions, as they call it, because there is nothing else to do while they wait for death.
C: “I can’t leave you,”
H: “And I can’t follow you,”
Beckett’s main point in the play, he often said, is in a line uttered by Nell: “Nothing is funnier than unhappiness”. And as a playwright, he was conscious of the audience. Clov turns his telescope on us as he seeks signs of life beyond the place they are all trapped in. Hamm makes showy references to his own acting.
C: What is there to keep us here?
H: The dialogue
Just as the characters cannot escape the room or themselves, trapped in their own indecision, neither can the audience escape their lives for a night of theatrical diversion. But these are exactly the reasons why you should see it.
Critics, professors, psychologists all try to read specific meanings and messages into Beckett’s plays, especially Endgame and Waiting for Godot. Each is right, but none is definitive. For all the words and actions and meanings, they are nothing more than a blank canvas with the suggestions of an outline, upon which you will seek and find your own interpretation. As with a dream, we all make of it what we can, and there is no right or wrong.
While the characters in Endgame view life as some sort of test to be endured – they are also frozen into inaction. So they pass the time with nonsense. One possible comparison is with contemporary everyday life. Back then it was routines they made up in the desolation of their location. Today we fill that same time with our addiction to television, or video games, or Facebook, none of which offer truly productive or a very meaningful way to spend our mortal time. “You’re on earth. There’s no cure for that.”
A director undertaking this play has little to do except focus on the dialogue, and the staging details. Eric Hill did a fine job of honing the action, the pace and the mood so that the evening flows inexorably from beginning to end. Beckett wrote down very precise stage directions, more than most playwrights, and the infamous Beckett estate does not suffer theatrical creativity gladly.
Three of the four actors are trapped in position. In fact, Randy Harrison in a recent interview opined that Beckett was likely a bit of a sadist for forcing actors into such uncomfortable positions for the duration of the play. Casting the young Harrison and Dougherty to play the failing seniors was unusual, and done for the energy they bring to their parts. It’s not easy spending the evening on your knees in a trash can.
Slapping whiteface onto Harrison immediately erased any illusions of the actor who played Justin in Queer as Folk (now in endless reruns), and instead conjured up Marcel Marceau, the great French mime. With his trademark blond hair hidden under a nightcap, he was simply a contorted face and two shaky hands in search of a kiss, or a little pap, or a sugarplum. And when he received none of these, that same face melted into disappointment that broke your heart. This is the second Beckett role that Harrison has done, the first being his Lucky in Waiting for Godot two years ago at BTF.
He is currently playing secondary roles in Beckett’s works, and as time goes on one hopes to see him in the main roles as well. Perhaps that might be Krapp’s Last Tape, originally performed as a curtain raiser for Endgame in 1958. It would pair well with other short Beckett works. Whether this happens in the near future is speculation, but Randy Harrison is clearly on his way to becoming the foremost interpreter of Beckett of his generation.
That can certainly be said of Mark Corkins and David Chandler as well, Each brought unique interpretations to their role. Chandler as Clov played him as slow and forgetful, and totally dependent on Hamm to make his decisions for him, yet rebelling at the same time. And the modulation of Corkins voice and upper torso had to carry his character’s information to the audience. In the play he is blind, his eyes having turned white, and though he constantly cleans his glasses, he can not see. As Hamm, Corkins used brusque speech and grand gestures to drive his character home.
So, is this a good review or a bad review? Sorry to go all Beckett on you, but in the end, it’s up to you to decide. Do the details pique your curiosity, or make you say “no way”. If you are a regular theatre-goer, the answer might actually be yes, because this is about as good as Endgame ever gets. If you enjoy dominant-submissive relationships, this is also a must-see. People who gawk at carnage in car wrecks also get a kick out of how poorly Hamm’s parents are treated. And animal lovers will be glad that Hamm’s dog is just a shopworn stuffed animal missing one leg.
In fact the BTF production of Endgame will tell you all you need to know about Beckett and the theatre of the absurd. And once seen, you will agree with many of us that it is as interesting to talk about as to see.
Berkshire Theatre Festival presents Endgame, Written by Samuel Beckett, Directed by Eric Hill, Scenic Designer – Gary M. English, Costume Designer – Charles Schoonmaker, Lighting Designer – Dan Kotlowitz, Stage Manager – Laura Wilson. July 6-25, 2010 at the Unicorn Theatre, Stockbridge, MA. About ninety minutes, no intermission. Performance and ticket information: www.berkshiretheatre.org作者: dormouse 时间: 2010-7-16 01:51
粉丝报告
July, 9th 2010
By: toto_too514
Edited by: Marcy
OK, so it’s no great secret that I am not a big Beckett fan... I really didn’t like Godot when I read it. It just didn’t “click” for me. But when I saw it presented in a play I absolutely LOVED it. One of my best theater experiences ever – bar none. So when I read Endgame, and found that it irritated me more than anything else, I still held out hope that seeing the show would once again blow me away….
I’m still here.
I of course knew going in, that Randy’s part was quite small. He appears three times for a total of about 20-25 minutes in a 1 hour 40 minute play. Once again what he does w/ even such a small role is amazing. A lot of the character is body language acting and facial expressions. He is seen mostly from shoulders up, or even chin up.
The make-up IS a stark white power on every exposed area of skin. He wears a night cap and has his front teeth blacked out. He appears early on, for just a few minutes… actually his hands do first as they creep out of the trash can. Even the man’s hands are expressive! He looks bewildered and an even uncomfortable in the light… he gets you believing he really is an old man w/ his voice and the “old man habit” of smacking his lips and sticking out his tongue.
The second time he appears is his longest… he engages his wife Nell in reminiscing about their younger days. He reaches out frail shaky hands to tap on her trash can. He offers to share his biscuit w/ her, which he had in his mouth as he first appeared. He has a fairly long speech telling a joke about a tailor… halfway through which he decides he isn’t telling it right. But he continues anyway, w/ the punch line falling flat. But he does manage to tell the joke as an old man taking on the voice of the tailor and his customer.
Even though he and Nell live in trash cans, they are actually more likeable than the main characters. (This is one of the big problems I have w/ the show.) Randy makes a great dirty old man though, as he and Nell swap a bit of innuendo in conversation - Nagg asks Nell to “scratch my back,” “lower,” “in the hollow,” all the while sending sly looks her way.
Even w/ the obvious limitations in acting out of a trash can, Randy conveys Nagg’s love for his wife… first w/ the biscuit, then offering to scratch her back, and desperately trying to reach out and kiss her. Unfortunately, Nell dies at the end of this scene.
Randy makes a final appearance bargaining w/ Hamm for a sugar plum if he agrees to listen to Hamm’s story. Clov leans down into the can and the muffled conversation reminded me of something from cartoons… think the wah, wah, wah that represents the adult voices in Charlie Brown cartoons. As he listens he goes through a gamut of emotions… lost, confused, disinterested, distracted, and surprised. It really is a testament to his talent.
During this last scene Nagg has a conversation w/ Hamm… who had tricked him into listening b/c there never was a sugar plum. He complains that when Hamm was a small boy he used to call out for his father to comfort him from the dark. To which Nagg says something like, “We moved you out of ear shot.” (OK, THAT was funny!) They also talk about Nagg giving life to Hamm, saying something like, “If I had only known.” To which Hamm replies, “Knew what?” Nagg answers, “That it would be you!” Two beats pass, and they both break out in huge guffaws. (Yeah, that was funny too!)
As the scene ends, Nagg reaches out once again to tap on Nell’s can… but of course she doesn’t answer. How can Randy make me feel such sadness w/ such simple gestures? But I did. Clov does talk to Nagg again a few times, to report that he is crying or sucking on his biscuit… but we don’t see him again.
That just leaves us w/ the rest of the play. And unlike Godot, where there was a likability to the other characters, there was nothing about Clov or Hamm to like. They had no redeeming qualities. I also didn’t see the humor in this show. I felt like Nagg listening to Hamm’s story… waiting for my sugar plum reward, which didn’t come!
Was curious to see how they would handle the bows at the end of the show. Hamm remained seated, Nagg and Nell stood about waist high in their trash cans. After applause ended, they both climbed out of the trash cans and walked off stage. Randy’s entire outfit looked like cotton pj’s and he was barefoot. The show was not a sellout, although the main section was full.作者: Britin-Genius 时间: 2010-7-16 10:51
“It is his remarkable ability to mix beauty, imagination, vitality and wry humor that transforms [Samuel] Beckett from a mere dispenser of meaningless gloom into a dramatic poet.”
– Richard Watts, Jr., New York Post
I am so glad I found the quotation above because I was stumbling through an attempt to say something similar, and failing. My observation was based on the fact that, when I got to my car and realized how long the BTF performance of Endgame had run (nearly two hours) I was surprised. While there where times when I had been bored and longing for the end to come – which is exactly what Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) wanted me to feel – I had no concept of 105 minutes passing.
For all the absurdity of Beckett’s work, there is beauty too, and suspense as we piece together bits of the characters lives and relationships from the fragments we are given. And Beckett makes us care about these people, unusual as they are.
Endgame is a long one-act play written in 1957. An Irishman, Beckett spent most of his adult life in France and wrote in french, although he then did his own English translations. Set in a single, dreary room with two windows and one door, the play centers on the blind, egocentric, wheelchair-bound Hamm (Mark Corkins), his servant Clov (David Chandler) who, though lame, cannot sit, and his legless parents Nagg (Randy Harrison) and Nell (Tanya Dougherty) who he keeps in trash cans.
In other words, there is only character, Clov, able to move voluntarily. Nagg and Nell never leave their cans, and Hamm can only move about if Clov pushes him. Beckett is making a statement about the ruts in life in which we all tend to immobilize ourselves. Even Clov cannot sit and seems unable to leave, although he and Hamm discuss the possibility frequently.
HAMM: We’re not beginning to…to…mean something?
CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (brief laugh.) That’s a good one!
HAMM: I wonder. (Pause.) Imagine if a rational being came back to earth, wouldn’t he be liable to get ideas into his head if he observed us long enough.
- Samuel Beckett, Endgame
A great many people spend way too much time trying to make Beckett mean something. I am not disputing that he had intention in his writing and that that intention didn’t impart multiple meanings, but it is a waste of our time trying to come up with a definitive meaning for Endgame or any of his other writings. The play is about the paradox of death, but beyond that I am not willing to venture further.
I am happy to report that there was a full house in the Unicorn for the performance of Endgame I attended, and only two people walked out. The BTF styles its season as “theatre that matters” and while I can just see Beckett getting all up in arms at the idea that anything, especially the artifice that is theatre, matters, there is the perception that “serious” theatre of the type the BTF is staging this summer – Beckett, Albee, Shakespeare – is more “important” than comedies and musicals. Not that they aren’t staging those too, but there is a certain mindset that embraces the idea that the harder plays are to understand, the more “serious” and “important” they must be. This is obviously an Emperor’s-New-Clothes-Style delusion, but people embrace it nonetheless, enough to sell-out a beautifully performed and directed production of a play in which, literally, nothing happens. The people who claim nothing happens in Waiting for Godot obviously haven’t seen or read Endgame.
Director Eric Hill has a good feel for this elusive type of theatre, and he has assembled a cast who obviously believe deeply in what they do. Corkins brings immense bombast to the shallow and aptly named Hamm, while narrow, sallow Chandler plays the endlessly nagged Clov with a seething underpinning of rage.
Hill deliberately cast young actors as Nagg and Nell, who are among the sweetest of Beckett’s pairings. These two, whether they are dead or alive, are deeply in love. They care about and for each other, even though they can barely reach between their cans to touch each other. Hill has Chandler get down on his hands and knees and up-end himself deep into the cans to talk to Nagg and Nell, which is a good comic effect. At one point, when he is forcing a recalcitrant Nagg back into his dustbin, Hill has Harrison thrust bony white hands, fingers splayed, up into the air, grasping at life as he is stuffed back down into the grave.
Beckett insisted that his stage directions be followed to the letter, and while he doesn’t demand full white face for Nagg and Nell, he does say that they are “very white” and Hill and costume designer Charles Schoonmaker have made them very, very white indeed. If the irises of their eyes and the dark caverns of their mouths could have been whitened I am sure they would have done that too. As it is they are chalk white apparitions, literal ghosts rising from the earth.
Harrison is an extremely popular actor, and casting him in an obscure and difficult play is one of the best ways to ensure that crowds turn out. But in numerous interviews Harrison states his love for Beckett and the Berkshires, and the fact that he returns to the BTF summer after summer to assume minor roles proves his dedication to the work rather than the limelight. Here he is fascinating to watch, creating a full characterization with his face and hands, acting and reacting both to what is going on onstage and what is running through Nagg’s mind. Playing with a constant tremor of extreme old age, he is never still.
In the much smaller role of Nell, Dougherty is sweet, although her performance is nowhere near as complete and nuanced as the gentlemen’s.
Endgame has several laughs and many thought provoking lines. When I wrote earlier that I was bored and longed for the play to end, I was well aware that that was exactly the point Beckett was making about life. It is tedious, repetitive, and seemingly endless – until one day it just suddenly ceases. And then, what? If we know no more once our Brians die isn’t the life we experience truly endless…and monotonous…just like this play? We long for life to be over because we are in pain or in poverty or hungry or sick or lonely or just bored, but since there is only one alternative we go on until we no longer exist.
Set designer Gary M. English, lighting designer Dan Kotlowitz and Schoonmaker have teamed up to create a very painterly look for this play. When the lights came up on Chandler contemplating the windows while Corkins slept in his wheelchair, covered in a sheet, I thought how still and beautiful the blues and greens of the walls, meant no doubt to represent mildew, were. During Clov’s business, before the dialogue began, I enjoyed just looking.
One small quibble: The program for this production is a mere half sheet of paper that lists the actors and creative team. The rest of the space is taken up with housekeeping details (please turn off your cell phone, recording devices are prohibited, etc) and an ad. There is NO information about Beckett or Endgame and in this case some information of that nature would help audiences enjoy the show. Not everyone has an M.F.A. As a member of the press I get a Xeroxed copy of a four-page publication titled, rather stiffly, Subscriber Enrichment Packet. That is very informative and helpful and while I appreciate that it is a subscriber perk – and I certainly encourage everyone to support their favorite theatres in any way they can – in this particular case at least some of that information should have been made available to the unwashed masses as well.
Endgame is not going to be everybody’s cup of tea, and you shouldn’t feel you have to go and see it because it is “serious” or “important” or “good for you.” Go if you love Beckett. Go if you want to see great acting. Go for the experience. Its not that long, and its quite interesting.
As you would expect from the King of Bleak, Samuel Beckett’s “Endgame” is anything but light, frothy summer fare. It’s a dark, despairing, particularly knotty mobius-strip of a play that examines the dynamics of dependency, the rituals of routine and the no-win situation that we call the human experience.
Hamm is the master of a gray, empty room in which even the picture hanging on the wall faces the wall. He is blind, hard of hearing and abusive. And he can’t stand.
Clov is his cantankerous man-servant, reluctant but unable to leave. And he can’t sit.
This subtly shifting master-servant exercise in futility is expertly examined in director Eric Hill’s powerhouse production at the Berkshire Theatre Festival’s Unicorn Theatre.
Consider this pointed, yet poetic exchange:
CLOV: Why this farce, day after day?
HAMM: Routine. One never knows. (Pause) Last night I saw inside my breast. There was a big sore.
CLOV: Pah! You saw your heart.
HAMM: No, it was living. (Pause) Clov!
CLOV: Yes.
HAMM: What’s happening?
CLOV: Something is taking its course. (Pause)
HAMM: Clov!
CLOV: What is it?
HAMM: We’re not beginning to… to… mean something?
CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (Laugh) Ah that’s a good one!
Adding to the “festivities” are Hamm’s parents Nagg and Nell, who spend the play in garbage cans. Only their heads and hands are visible, and then only when Beckett gives them something to say, like this:
NELL : Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. But—
NAGG: Oh!
NELL: Yes, yes, it’s the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it’s always the same thing. Yes, it’s like the funny story we have heard too often, we still find it funny, but we don’t laugh any more. (Pause) Have you anything else to say to me?
NAGG: No.
While not as overtly comical as Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” masterwork, “Endgame” is laced with biting, black comedy, which is brought to the fore by actors David Chandler as the embittered Clov and Mark Corkins as the bellowing but insecure Hamm. Like Pinter, Beckett says as much with his silences as he does with his words, and both Chandler and Corkins deftly handle their lines with the impeccable timing of world-class stand-up comedians.
As Nell and Nagg, actors Tanya Dougherty and Randy Harrison are given less to work with, but they make the most of their brief time onstage, managing to draw out moments of compassion (or at least vestiges of compassion) from their endless hopelessness.
Nothing really happens in a Beckett play, and “Endgame” is no exception. In fact, that’s pretty much the whole point of the play.
But apparently, some folks in attendance on opening night didn’t get the message. The first couple walked out of the theater just 20 minutes into the play, and eventually they were followed by nearly two dozen more folks.
Obviously, Samuel Beckett is not for everyone, but if you want to spend a thoughtful evening watching some serious theater, BTF’s uncompromising production is one of the summer’s prime candidates. “Endgame” may have you scratching your head afterward, but it’s likely to stay with you for days.
HAMM: What’s happening, what’s happening?
CLOV: Something is taking its course. (Pause)
“Endgame” continues its run at the Berkshire Theatre Festival in Great Barrington through Saturday, July 24.
By Jeffrey Borak, Berkshire Eagle Staff
Updated: 07/14/2010 11:24:59 AM EDT
Wednesday July 14, 2010
STOCKBRIDGE -- Hamm, the formidable figure at the center of Samuel Beckett's bleak, despairing, lumbering hulk of a play "Endgame," is a force to be reckoned with, especially as he is played by Mark Corkins in Eric Hill's atmospheric, well-acted but nonetheless hugely challenging production at Berkshire Theatre Festival's Unicorn Theatre.
Blind, bound to a wheelchair and, when we first and last see him, covered by a musty sheet that, in turn, covers an oversized blood-soaked handkerchief, Hamm rules this dark, dank, forbidding territory by sheer force of will, exercised through a voice (an exquisite instrument that Corkins plays like a virtuoso) that is authoritative and commanding, even as it retreats, as it does at times, to a sharp, intense, withering whisper.
Hamm is attended by his son, Clov (David Chandler), a tall, slightly stoop-shouldered creature buoyed, for all the years of abuse that has been heaped upon him by Hamm, by a stubborn force of will that is not, for all his protestations, strong enough to push him out the door and out from under Hamm.
Two trash cans sitting off to one side of the basement-like room that is the setting for this production holds the pure white chalky Nagg (Randy Harrison) and Nell (Tanya Dougherty). They are wasting away, literally, in the dust of their decay but within them stirs enough of a life force that is stirred by memories of nature, of love, of sex of life.
Light barely penetrates this room. There are only two windows -- impossible to reach without a ladder. And while there is one door through which Clov comes and goes, there is no real exit except death.
Much like Pozzo and Lucky in Beckett's far more theatrically and philosophically engaging "Waiting for Godot," Hamm and Clov are bound to each other in ways that are as real and as meaningful, though not as visible, as the rope that tether Lucky and Pozzo to one another.
Hamm cannot survive without Clov, who dutifully, tends house, sees to Hamm's needs, endures Hamm's bullying. For Clov, while remaining in this relationship is intolerable, leaving is impossible.
So it goes with the dying of the light.
The play weighs more heavily on the Unicorn stage than it reads on the page.
Harrison and Dougherty bring welcome theatricality to this unsparing atmosphere with performances that are rich and animated.
But the oppressive weight of Hamm's pronouncements become wearisome as this intermissionless exercise wears on.
At times, Beckett's calculated repetitions -- of thought, of language, of rhythm -- sound like the perfect Beckett parody.
"This is not much fun," Hamm says to Clov in an early exchange. "But that's always the way at the end of the day, isn't it Clov? It's the end of the day like any other day, isn't it Clov?"
"Looks like it," Clov replies.
Later, a clearly frustrated Hamm roars "Will this never finish?" It does but it feels, at times, as if it never will.
No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business. . .—Samuel Beckett
Nothing is funnier than unhappiness. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it's always the same thing.—Nell
David Chandler as Clov and Randy Harrison as Nagg
Like all of Samuel Beckett's plays, and perhaps even more than usual, Endgame's meaning is not something that can be neatly summed up like a Twitter tweet. Typical of the Theater of the Absurd it has many moments funny enough to generate loud giggles from the audience. But don't go to the Berkshire Theatre Festival's second stage, the Unicorn expecting that director Eric Hill has used his talent for unique directorial touches, to come up with a Beckett Lite version suitable for easy summertime theater going.
For one thing, Hill's talents for innovative direction tends to be less attuned to light weight fun fare, than works like The Caretaker by one of Beckett's chief spiritual heirs, Harold Pinter (Review of Hill's terrific summer 2008 production). For another there are the folks who fiercely guard the Beckett estate against any tinkering with his very specific stage directions. And so what you're going to see is an enigmatic, theatrical chess game (the title refers to the last part of the game which the playwright loved, the end part when there are very few pieces left). The 4-actor cast can be likened to those end of game pieces but none are in a position to make that final checkmate move. Hamm cannot see or stand; Clov, the servant he tyrannizes, cannot sit and though he wants to leave he can't seem to do so. Hamm's parents, Nell and Nagg, have no legs and have been put into side-by-side trashcans, like so much refuse waiting for the disposal truck to take them away.
Consider all the above a caveat emptor if challenging plays aren't your thing — especially if they focus on life as a sometimes darkly comic but mostly painful prelude to a too drawn-out death (shades of Beckett's comment at the top of this review stating that his only regret is that he was born since "dying is such a long tiresome business"). But if you don't mind watching a play that you may not quite get (or don't really want to get because it stirs up uncomfortable feelings and laughs), you won't want to miss this — especially if you saw last year's intriguing production of the more often produced but equally enigmatic Waiting For Godot production, also at this venue but directed by Anders Cato (Review ).
Assuming my caveats haven't scared you off, you're in for a treat. Eric Hill and his crafts team have created a stylized production while remaining respectfully true to Beckett's stage notes which call for a barren room with two grimy windows that can only be reached by climbing a ladder. . .for our first view of Hamm to have him sitting in his chair with wheels covered by a rag which, when removed will reveal a bloody hankerchief covering his face. . . the side-by-side trash cans from which a clownishly white-faced Nagg and Nell will pop occasionally are to be near the son who ignores their needs (as they as indicated at one point probably ignored his infant needs).
Though true to the playwright's vision, Hill has given this production a stylized feel that works beautifully with the text. This is especially evident in David Chandler's brilliant almost Chaplinesque Clov and the casting of two young actors — Randy Harrison and Tanya Dougherty — as the old folks, Nagg and Nell. Their ghostly makeup (including missing teeth) and somewhat shaky voices give them an ageless aura and makes their exchanged memories of happier days both touching and more than a little looney.
Dougherty's Nell, though the character with the least visibility, does get the one piece of dialogue that comes closest to summing up, if not the play's definitive meaning, its overall sensibility: "Nothing is funnier than unhappiness. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it's always the same thing."
Randy Harrison, who was riveting as the unlucky Lucky of BTF's Godot, makes the most of this somewhat less show stealing role. With only his face, his voice and hands available to him, he nevertheless manages to mesmerize.
The two actor's dominating the eerie, claustrophobic space are superb. Mark Corkins makes the helpless Hamm's abiity to keep Clov within range of his constant bullying demands. While there's little doubt that he will get his wish to end his dreary existence, there's still a certain grandiosity about him that lives up to the implied meaning of his name.
As for David Chandler's Clov. . .Wow! Seeing him move about the stage mumbling and grumbling, his every move a major effort, is to see a master class in physical and emotional acting. Watching him bring out the much used ladder for the first time, open it in front of one of the windows, climb up and give a mad sort of laugh as he pulls open the curtain and looks out is a riot. As he repeats this at the other window and keeps doing so again and again, this shtick becomes more sad and poignant than funny.
All in all, this is an absurdist, scary vision of a future where life flies by but also drags, with characters whose misery is so intense that they're memorable. The bits and pieces of conversations may sound meaningless at first, but if you sit back and let the words sink in you'll find the dialogue filled with wit.
Beckett was only 51 when he wrote Endgame, but he'd already seen his entire immediate family pass away. No wonder he was aware of how easily you can fined yourself at the end of the game of life, only to realize that you went through it without paying attention or as Hamm says" I was never there. Absent always, it all happened without me." Despite the generous doses of humor, as Nagg won't get the sugar plums he wants, neither can you count on Beckett to sugar coat his grim view of the human condition. The food he dishes up is food for thought and plenty of post show discussion.
Of course, if you took my initial caveats to heart, you may want to fast forward to the Unicorn's next, more light hearted offering, the original let's put on a show in the barn musical Babes in Arms. It has music by Richard Rodgers and lyrics by Lorenz Hart.
Production Notes
Endgame by Samuel Beckett
Directed by Eric Hill
Cast: Clov (David Chandler), Hamm (Mark Corkins), Nagg (Randy Harrison), Nell (Tanya Dougherty)
Scenic Designer: Gary M. English
Costume Designer:– Charles Schoonmaker
Lighting Designer: Dan Kotlowitz
Stage Manager: Laura Wilson
From July 6-25
Running time:About ninety minutes, no intermission.
Reviewed by Elyse Sommer July 12th作者: mik 时间: 2010-7-17 09:54
