Despite the dourest demeanor in litÂerÂary hisÂtoÂry and a series of plays and novÂels set in the bleakÂest of conÂdiÂtions, there’s no doubt that Samuel BeckÂett was foreÂmost a comÂic writer. Indeed, it is because of these things that he remains a sinÂguÂlarÂly great comÂic writer. The deepÂest laughs are found, as in that old Mel Brooks quote, in the most absurdÂly tragÂic places. In BeckÂett, howÂevÂer, charÂacÂters don’t just tell jokes about the wretched exiÂgenÂcies of human life, they fulÂly embody all those qualÂiÂties; just as the best comÂic actors do.
It’s true that some of Beckett’s charÂacÂters spend all of their time onstage immoÂbiÂlized, but the playÂwright was also a great admirÂer of physÂiÂcal comÂeÂdy onscreen and drew libÂerÂalÂly from the work of his favorite film comeÂdiÂans. VetÂerÂan vaudeÂville comÂic Bert Lahr, best known as The WizÂard of Oz’s cowÂardÂly lion, starred in the origÂiÂnal BroadÂway proÂducÂtion of WaitÂing for Godot in 1956. “BeckÂett once wrote a film script for Buster Keaton,” notes theÂater critÂic Michael KuchÂwara. Godot’s cenÂtral charÂacÂters, Vladimir and Estragon, evoke one of the most renowned of comÂeÂdy duos, many of their gesÂtures “obviÂous derivaÂtions from LauÂrel and Hardy,” as film hisÂtoÂriÂan GerÂald Mast notes.
It is fitÂting then—and might meet with the approval of BeckÂett himself—that Robin Williams and Steve MarÂtin, two of the most rivÂetÂing physÂiÂcal comeÂdiÂans of the sevÂenÂties and eightÂies, should step into the roles of the bumÂbling, bowler-hatÂted frenÂeÂmies of Godot. The proÂducÂtion, which took place in OctoÂber and NovemÂber 1988 at the 299-seat Mitzi E. NewÂhous TheÂater on BroadÂway, sold out almost immeÂdiÂateÂly. Williams and MarÂtin weren’t its only big draw. Mike Nichols directÂed, and the rest of the cast includÂed F. MurÂray AbraÂham as PozÂzo, Bill Irwin as Lucky, and Lucas Haas as the absent Godot’s mesÂsenÂger boy.
SadÂly, we only have a few clips of the perÂforÂmance, which you can see in the grainy video above, interÂspersed with interÂviews with MarÂtin and Irwin. These too will leave you wantÂiÂng more. “I saw it as a comÂeÂdy,” says MarÂtin of his readÂing of the play. What this meant, he says, is that the laughs “must be served, almost first…. The comÂeÂdy of the play won’t take care of itself unless it’s delivÂered.” Robin Williams, writes KuchÂwara, delivÂered laughs. “His Estragon is a maniÂaÂcal creaÂture, vergÂing out of conÂtrol at times.”
Williams also veered “into some stage antics and line twistÂings that BeckÂett nevÂer would have dreamed of—giving hilarÂiÂous imiÂtaÂtions of R2D2 and John Wayne, comÂplete with an improÂvised machine gun.” For his part, MarÂtin had “a tougher assignÂment playÂing the subÂdued, almost straight man Vladimir to Williams’ more flamÂboyÂant Estragon.” MarÂtin has always tendÂed to subÂmerge his maniÂaÂcal comÂic enerÂgy in straighter roles. Here he seems perÂhaps too restrained.
For reaÂsons that have nothÂing to do with the play, the tragÂic heart of these clips is seeÂing Williams as Estragon. Yet in the final few minÂutes, trained mime Irwin shows why his Lucky may have been the most inspired piece of castÂing in the show. We get a taste of his perÂforÂmance as he recites part of Lucky’s monoÂlogue. “Every gesÂture has been careÂfulÂly thought out, not only for the comÂeÂdy, but for the pain that lies underÂneath the laughs,” KuchÂwara says.
Lucky is essenÂtialÂly a slave to Abraham’s domÂiÂneerÂing PozÂzo, who keeps him on a leash. He gives one speech, when his masÂter orders him to “think.” But in his verÂbiage and bearÂing, he conÂveys the play’s deepÂest pathos, in the form of the archeÂtypÂal torÂtured clown, who reapÂpears in Alan Moore’s joke about PagliÂacÂci. When BeckÂett was asked why he named the charÂacÂter Lucky, he replied, with morÂdant wit, “I supÂpose he is lucky to have no more expecÂtaÂtions….” It is as though, Mel Brooks would say, he had fallÂen into an open sewÂer and died
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
Steve MarÂtin PerÂforms Stand-Up ComÂeÂdy for Dogs (1973)
Robin Williams Uses His Stand-Up ComÂeÂdy Genius to DelivÂer a 1983 ComÂmenceÂment Speech
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian based in Durham, NC. FolÂlow him at @jdmagness