Picture this: air guitar in a Samuel Beckett play. It sounds outlandish, right? Samuel Beckett, known for his incredibly precise stage directions, certainly didn’t pen any rock ‘n’ roll solos for Vladimir and Estragon, the anguished heroes of his existential tragicomedy, ‘Waiting for Godot.’
However, the iconic California goofballs, Bill and Ted, definitely are. The entire buzz around this Broadway revival of ‘Waiting for Godot’ hinges on the much-anticipated reunion of Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter, the stars of the beloved 1989 time-travel hit, ‘Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.’
Alex Winter steps into the role of Vladimir, while Keanu Reeves portrays Estragon. They appear as a seasoned duo, trapped in a void they can’t escape, forever parting and reuniting. This bowler-hatted pair seems destined to remain together, eternally.
In a memorable Act II moment, Estragon joyfully proclaims, ‘Back to back like in the good old days!’ as he stands spine-to-spine with Vladimir, reciting Beckett’s original line. Then, Reeves and Winter unleash a spontaneous, ‘Bill & Ted’-esque air guitar solo. This crowd-pleasing stunt is bound to delight some and fiercely irritate others, as I’ve already heard some purists grumbling.
The scene, captured by Sara Krulwich/The New York Times, shows Alex Winter (left) and Keanu Reeves in character, playfully referencing their “Bill & Ted” roots during a performance of ‘Waiting for Godot’ at the Hudson Theater.
Personally, I found myself laughing. It was a refreshing burst of energy, and frankly, Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) are, at their core, clowns. Their characters lend themselves to playful, unbridled acts. If the production momentarily taps into the audience’s nostalgia for Reeves and Winter’s cinematic past, acknowledging their reunion as a different pair of companions, then why not? Clowns are, after all, allowed to stray beyond the conventional lines.
Jamie Lloyd’s impeccably stylish production, which debuted on Sunday evening at the Hudson Theater, boldly departs from tradition right from the opening curtain. Gone are the familiar tree and country road. Instead, Didi and Gogo spend their interminable days within a striking, tapering tunnel, its massive opening at the downstage end allowing them to perch intimately close to the orchestra seats.
This visually arresting minimalism is a signature of Lloyd’s collaborations with set and costume designer Soutra Gilmour. Their previous work, including ‘Sunset Boulevard,’ ‘A Doll’s House,’ ‘Cyrano de Bergerac,’ and ‘Betrayal,’ consistently showcased intelligent, star-studded reinterpretations, all marked by exquisite, streamlined aesthetics.
What’s noteworthy in this ‘Waiting for Godot’ is the absence of Lloyd’s characteristic textual refinement and strong interpretive vision. Largely, he seems to offer no discernible statement. This is a letdown because Beckett’s play demands powerful directorial guidance to truly resonate, especially now, when many can deeply relate to Didi and Gogo’s pervasive exhaustion, futility, and despair in an increasingly harsh world.
As they echo, ‘Nothing to be done,’ the phrase takes on a poignant, repetitive weight.
Unfortunately, Lloyd’s famed ability to draw out nuanced performances from stars is less apparent here. For Reeves and Winter, neither of whom are seasoned stage actors, their portrayals feel somewhat nascent. Winter’s Didi, in particular, remains largely grim throughout, while Reeves’s Gogo, though tentative, offers a familiar, almost puppyish vulnerability that’s quite endearing.
It’s not a matter of unpreparedness; both Reeves and Winter have clearly dedicated themselves to extensive research. However, they haven’t quite shed the academic approach to fully embody their roles, appearing still somewhat intimidated and at a remove from their characters.
Didi and Gogo drift through their restless, indistinguishable days, clinging to the hope of a fated meeting with the enigmatic Godot, pronounced ‘GOD-oh’ in this staging – a subtle, yet potent, clue to his symbolic significance. They exist in a state of suspended animation, perpetually questioning, always waiting for his definitive guidance.
“Well?” Didi asks Gogo, “What do we do?”
Gogo’s weary reply: “Don’t let’s do anything. It’s safer.”
The words are uttered, but they lack the profound weight of thoughts repeated endlessly, and their conversation misses the rhythmic back-and-forth crucial to the play. What emerges is a muted recitation instead of a vibrant illumination, leaving much of the intended meaning to dissipate into the air.
A poignant moment, when Didi, in his loneliness, wakes a sleeping Gogo and then prevents him from recounting his interrupted dream, passes almost unnoticed. Gogo’s heartfelt lament – “It’s not nice of you, Didi. Who am I to tell my private nightmares to if I can’t tell them to you?” – a stark revelation of their tortured intimacy, loses its impact.
The dynamic duo of Brandon J. Dirden as the erratic Pozzo and Michael Patrick Thornton as his slave, Lucky, brilliantly combine the comical with the alarming, as seen in this photo by Sara Krulwich/The New York Times.
Despite Lloyd’s often amusing minimalist approach, which includes Reeves comically miming eating a carrot, the production feels confined within its striking wooden tunnel. It’s a hurried, superficial experience, lacking the profound depth and human connection that would make it truly humorous and impactful.
When supporting characters effortlessly overshadow the leads, it signals a significant imbalance. Here, Pozzo and Lucky, with their skillful blend of comedy and menace, frankly walk away with the entire performance.
Credit where it’s due: Lloyd wisely cast seasoned stage veterans for these pivotal roles. Brandon J. Dirden (‘Take Me Out’) delivers a cruel and unpredictable Pozzo, while Michael Patrick Thornton (from Lloyd’s ‘A Doll’s House’) embodies Lucky, his slave. Under Jon Clark’s unsettling lighting, their stage presence is immediately electrifying. Dirden’s Pozzo seamlessly shifts from a charming Southern gentleman to a brutal bully, a vain and fastidious tyrant who, you sense, would pause for a manicure even on the path to damnation—a clear nod to Beckett’s Christian allegorical subtext.
The minimalist, visually striking set by Soutra Gilmour, paired with Jon Clark’s eerie lighting, is characteristic of a Jamie Lloyd production (Photo by Sara Krulwich/The New York Times).
Lucky, despite a black muzzle obscuring much of his face, proves to be an unexpectedly captivating figure. He engages the audience, drawing us into his charming wheelchair dance. When finally unmuzzled, he delivers his monumental, stream-of-consciousness monologue – often a chaotic outburst – with remarkable clarity and composure. Thornton portrays it as a coherent outpouring, as if Lucky is finding a rare, unrestricted moment to voice his deepest thoughts.
Didi and Gogo find their stride more effectively in Act II, as the production shifts from its earlier inertia to embrace physical comedy. Their vaudeville-inspired bits with bowler hats, meticulously choreographed by Beckett himself, draw appreciative laughter from the audience.
It’s important to remember that not all Broadway productions arrive fully polished. Theater is a living art form, constantly evolving with each performance rather than existing as a static entity.
While it remains uncertain if Reeves and Winter will ultimately achieve the commanding presence of Dirden and Thornton, a crucial element for the production’s balance, the potential is certainly there. Much like Didi and Gogo’s daily recommitment, they still have time to grow into their roles.
The production of Waiting for Godot runs through January 4 at the Hudson Theater in Manhattan, with a running time of 2 hours and 5 minutes.