‘Waiting for Godot’ Review: Borrows from The Best and The Worst

“Waiting for Godot” has undergone every possible directorial interpretation since its 1953 debut; absurdist masterpiece, religious playground, wartime resistance, existential fodder, and homoerotic comedy. Deadword Theater Company’s iteration, which opened Feb. 12 at The Rockwell, goes in a new, albeit unclear direction, borrowing from the best and worst of interpretations.

Housed in a tight space, the set design is minimal but adequate, enhanced greatly by Liam Grimaldi’s modern lighting design. “Waiting for Godot” plays out in a non-space made tangible only by a tree, somewhere for Estragon to sit, and the ever-present threat of night. The Company’s demand for minimalism creates a performance enriched by focus and not scarcity, and lets their lighting designer and actors control the atmosphere.

And Vladimir (Jack Aschenbach) does.

Aschenbach’s command of Vladimir’s neurotically existential tendencies is magnetic, balancing his more humorous moments with a restless mental anguish that jumps out without creating dissonance. Costume Designer Gaby Obando Arévalo aces her assignment with Vladimir, as the vagabond loses threads from his clothing as haphazardly as he loses his grip on reality. The performance is worth seeing just to watch Aschenbach untangle Vladimir’s rambling monologues with both conscious contemplation and enthusiasm.

While Aschenbach’s performance finds its stride as the two-act play progresses, the rest of the production falters. Deadword’s production leans far too heavily on slapstick humor in an attempt to balance out the morbidity and intensity of Beckett’s masterpiece. Estragon (Jack Yeatman) acts with the bravado and exaggeration of an improv show, a weak opposite to Aschenbach’s complex subtlety. It’s funny, for sure, but an over-reliance on audience chuckles means the more interesting purpose of Estragon’s inert futility and forgetfulness is lost on Yeatman. The repetition at the center of Beckett’s dialogue becomes laborious under Yeatman’s interpretation, and when Estragon declares “the more you eat the worse it gets,” I couldn’t agree more.

Deadword’s sound design is perhaps the most disappointing element. At times it helps cut exchanges soaked in vulgarity, but largely focuses on adding cartoonish sound effects to already slapstick sequences. It both cheapens some of the more powerful instances of resolute absurdity and becomes so distractingly overt the actors lose control over their own play-space. For nearly an entire act, a sound effect pings every time a character remarks they are “Waiting for Godot,” hitting the audience over the head with the same clumsiness of a sitcom. Combined with the caricature-like over-acting of many characters, moments of the show grow cumbersome quite quickly — and in a play where famously nothing happens, well-handled complexity needs to be the core of the show.

Beyond the tireless exchanges between Estragon and Vladimir, by far the best moment of Deadword’s production is Lucky’s (Liam Grimaldi) outburst of philosophical ramblings that leaves the entire stage trembling. Grimaldi is wonderfully creepy before acting “against the dialogue rather than with it,” in the words of dramatist Martin Esslin. Dramatic and erratic lighting design (designed by Grimaldi himself) strengthens Lucky’s absurdly unhinged response to his owner Pozzo’s command to “think” for Estragon and Vladimir, and Grimaldi never falters in his commitment to extremes. Speaking at the speed of light and reigniting the energy of a sleepy audience, Grimaldi brings back the cocktail of unflinching cruelty, morbid excitement, and cultural speculation the play desperately needs.

But the play also lacks moments of stillness. Beckett’s play has little embellishment but endless depth, and in a physical space that intimate, Deadword’s production could use those moments of pause and silence to greater effect. On the other hand, the fluidity of interpretation produces a few fantastic, hilarious, Biblical tableaux vivants. The stage sometimes descends unexpectedly into a flurry of motion, delightful in the face of existential dread. It is impossible to accuse Deadword’s production of being anything short of enthusiastic and energetic — sometimes to a fault — with an unrelenting sense of playfulness.

You can see Deadword Theater Company’s production of “Waiting for Godot” at the Rockwell on Feb. 26, Feb. 28, and March 1.

—Staff writer Hannah T. Chew can be reached at hannah.chew@thecrimson.com.