Could air guitar possibly find a place in a revered Samuel Beckett play? While the celebrated playwright’s famously detailed stage notes for “Waiting for Godot” omit any mention of rock ‘n’ roll antics, its tormented protagonists, Vladimir and Estragon, are certainly not known for their shredding skills.
However, that’s precisely what you’d expect from the iconic California slackers, Bill and Ted. This current Broadway production of “Waiting for Godot” largely hinges on the much-anticipated reunion of the actors who brought them to life in beloved films like the 1989 time-travel sensation, “Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.”
Alex Winter, known as Bill, takes on the role of Vladimir, while Keanu Reeves, formerly Ted, portrays Estragon. This seasoned duo finds themselves trapped in an inescapable void, perpetually parting and reuniting, a bowler-hatted double act seemingly bound together for eternity.
“Back to back like in the good old days!” Estragon declares in Act II, echoing Beckett’s original script while standing with Vladimir. It’s then that Reeves and Winter erupt into an unmistakable, Bill and Ted-esque air guitar solo. This move is guaranteed to delight many audience members, though it’s already sparking significant disapproval from some traditionalists.
Personally, I found myself laughing—it was a genuinely amusing and refreshing moment. After all, Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) are, at their core, clowns. Their characters thrive on exuberant, playful defiance. If the production momentarily nods to the audience’s shared history with Reeves and Winter, acknowledging their cinematic past while they embody these new roles, why not? Clowns are, by nature, expected to venture beyond conventional boundaries.
Jamie Lloyd’s impeccably stylish production, which debuted on Sunday night at the Hudson Theater, boldly defies several conventions from the outset. Notably, there’s no traditional tree or country road in sight. Instead, Didi and Gogo spend their interminable days within a narrowing tunnel, its vast, gaping entrance allowing them to perch intimately close to the orchestra seats.
This visually arresting austerity is a signature of Lloyd’s collaborations with his long-standing set designer, Soutra Gilmour, who also crafted the show’s pristine costumes. New York theatergoers have witnessed their exquisite minimalist approach in acclaimed, star-studded re-imaginings like “Sunset Boulevard,” “A Doll’s House,” “Cyrano de Bergerac,” and “Betrayal.”
What’s striking about this “Waiting for Godot” is the notable absence of Lloyd’s usual textual refinement and distinct interpretive vision. For the most part, his directorial voice seems muted. This is inherently disappointing, as the play demands a strong guiding hand to achieve its full impact, especially in an era where many can deeply relate to Didi and Gogo’s profound weariness, futility, and despair amidst a harsh world.
“Nothing to be done,” they echo, a phrase repeated countless times.
Furthermore, Lloyd’s renowned ability to elicit nuanced performances from stars appears somewhat absent here. For Reeves and Winter, both of whom initiated this production, the stage is an unfamiliar territory. Their portrayals feel embryonic, particularly Winter’s Didi, who maintains a perpetually grim expression. Reeves’s Gogo, while hesitant, exudes a familiar, almost puppy-like charm and vulnerability.
It’s not to say Reeves and Winter are unprepared; they have clearly invested considerable effort in their research. However, they haven’t yet achieved that critical stage where the extensive groundwork dissolves, allowing them to fully embody their characters. At present, they seem to observe their roles from a slight remove, a hint of intimidation in their performances.
Didi and Gogo endure their restless, indistinguishable days clinging to the hope of a promised meeting with the enigmatic Godot, whose name in this particular staging is pronounced “GOD-oh,” providing a clear clue to its underlying significance. They exist in a state of suspended uncertainty, endlessly awaiting his definitive commands.
“Well?” Didi questions Gogo. “What action do we take?”
“Let’s refrain from doing anything,” Gogo responds. “It’s the safer option.”
This iteration of Didi and Gogo delivers their lines, yet without the profound resonance of thoughts pondered countless times, and lacking the vital conversational rhythm. What results is a muted recitation instead of a powerful illumination of the play, its essence dissipating into the air.
When a solitary Didi rouses a deeply sleeping Gogo and prevents him from recounting his interrupted dream, Gogo reproaches, “It’s not kind of you, Didi. To whom else can I confide my private nightmares if not to you?” This poignant line, offering a window into their strained bond, regrettably passes by unnoticed.
Despite Lloyd’s characteristic minimalist approach, famously eliminating most props (leading to delightful moments like Reeves convincingly munching an invisible carrot), the production feels confined within its wooden tunnel. The pacing is rushed and superficial, failing to delve into the play’s deeper themes, and ultimately, it lacks the essential human connection and humor to truly resonate.
It’s a clear sign of trouble when the supporting characters, Pozzo and Lucky, effortlessly eclipse the main duo. This pair, skillfully blending comedy with a disturbing edge, undeniably steals the entire performance.
To be fair, Lloyd wisely cast seasoned stage veterans in these key roles: Brandon J. Dirden (of “Take Me Out”) as the volatile and cruel Pozzo, and Michael Patrick Thornton (from Lloyd’s “A Doll’s House”) as his enslaved companion, Lucky. Bathed in Jon Clark’s unsettling lighting, their entrance immediately electrifies the stage. Pozzo, with his honeyed Southern drawl, can be charming when it suits him, but is otherwise a relentless bully. Vain and fastidious, he embodies the type of tyrant who would meticulously attend to his nails even on the path to damnation, which, within Beckett’s Christian allegorical framework, surely awaits him.
Lucky, despite a black muzzle obscuring much of his face, proves to be a surprisingly captivating presence. He subtly engages the audience, inviting participation in his endearing wheelchair dance. When his muzzle is finally removed, he delivers his epic monologue—a torrent of Joycean thought often portrayed as a chaotic outpouring—with remarkable clarity and composure. Thornton’s Lucky appears to be simply exhaling, relishing an unburdened moment to articulate his inner world.
Didi and Gogo show marked improvement in Act II, as the production’s earlier stagnation gives way to lively physical comedy. The meticulously choreographed vaudevillian hat routine, a classic Beckett element, elicits genuinely delighted laughter from the audience.
It’s important to remember that even on Broadway, a show isn’t always perfected at its debut. Theater is a dynamic art form, continually evolving with each performance, rather than a fixed product.
Therefore, while it’s not guaranteed that Reeves and Winter will reach the impressive caliber of Dirden and Thornton, achieving the much-needed balance for this production, the possibility certainly exists. Much like Didi and Gogo, who face each new day with renewed effort, they still have time to grow into their roles.
Waiting for Godot runs through January 4th at the Hudson Theater, Manhattan. The running time is 2 hours and 5 minutes.