Does air guitar truly belong in a Samuel Beckett masterpiece? The legendary playwright’s meticulously detailed stage directions somehow omit any mention of rock ‘n’ roll shredding in “Waiting for Godot,” an existential tragicomedy whose eternally waiting heroes, Vladimir and Estragon, aren’t exactly known for their musical prowess.
However, the iconic California goofballs, Bill and Ted, certainly are! The core appeal of this Broadway revival of “Waiting for Godot” lies in the eagerly anticipated reunion of actors Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves, who famously portrayed the duo in the beloved 1989 time-travel hit “Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure” and its sequels.
Alex Winter, embodying Bill, now takes on the role of Vladimir, while Keanu Reeves, as Ted, plays Estragon. Together, they inhabit a seemingly inescapable void, a timeless, bowler-hatted double act, forever parting and reuniting.
“Back to back like in the good old days!” Estragon exclaims in Act II, mirroring Beckett’s original script. At this point, Reeves and Winter joyfully launch into a spontaneous burst of air guitar, a signature move from their Bill and Ted personas. This playful riff is undeniably a crowd-pleaser, though it might spark a groan or two from purists. Indeed, some have already voiced their displeasure quite strongly.
As for me, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a delightful moment of unexpected energy, and it perfectly suits Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) – they are, after all, clowns. Their characters thrive on uncontainable, rebellious playfulness. If the production briefly acknowledges the collective nostalgia of the audience seeing Reeves and Winter together again, echoing their cinematic history while portraying a different pair of friends, why not? Clowns are inherently meant to color outside the lines.
Jamie Lloyd’s impeccably stylish production, which premiered Sunday night at the Hudson Theater, boldly breaks other traditional rules from the outset. There’s no familiar tree or country road in the set design. Instead, Didi and Gogo pass their endless days within a tapering tunnel, its enormous, gaping mouth positioned downstage, where they perch intimately close to the orchestra seats.
Visually striking minimalism is a signature of Lloyd’s collaborations with set designer Soutra Gilmour, who also crafted the show’s immaculate costumes. This exquisite simplicity has been a hallmark of their acclaimed New York productions, including “Sunset Boulevard,” “A Doll’s House,” “Cyrano de Bergerac,” and “Betrayal” – all intelligent, star-driven reinterpretations.
What proves most intriguing about this “Waiting for Godot” is the notable absence of Lloyd’s usual textual distillation and interpretive flair. For the most part, his directorial voice seems subdued, which is disappointing given the play’s need for strong guidance to resonate with impact. This is especially true at a time when many in the audience could undoubtedly connect with Didi and Gogo’s pervasive sense of exhaustion, futility, and despair in the face of an relentlessly challenging world.
“Nothing to be done,” they each repeat, a refrain that encapsulates their predicament.
Lloyd’s renowned ability to draw out profound performances from stars is also less apparent here. For Reeves, who initiated this production, and Winter, the stage is an unfamiliar territory. Their performances feel like works in progress; Winter’s Didi remains almost perpetually grim-faced, while Reeves’s Gogo, though endearing with a familiar, puppy-like vulnerability, also exhibits a noticeable tentativeness.
It’s not that Reeves and Winter are unprepared; they’ve clearly delved into their research with diligence. However, they haven’t quite reached the point where the preparation falls away, allowing them to fully inhabit their characters. For now, they seem to stand at a slight distance, perhaps still somewhat intimidated by the roles.
Didi and Gogo endure their restless, indistinguishable days clinging to the hope of a promised rendezvous with the elusive Godot, whose name in this production is pronounced GOD-oh – a clear hint to its intended significance. They exist in a state of suspended animation, constantly doubting, yet awaiting his certain instructions.
“Well?” Didi asks Gogo. “What do we do?”
“Don’t let’s do anything,” Gogo suggests. “It’s safer.”
While Didi and Gogo utter these lines, they do so without the emotional weight of thoughts pondered countless times before, and without the lively, volleying rhythm crucial to their conversations. It’s a subdued recitation rather than an illuminating portrayal of the play, causing much of the profound meaning to dissipate into the air.
When a lonely Didi awakens a deeply sleeping Gogo and refuses to let him describe his interrupted dream, Gogo reproaches, “It’s not nice of you, Didi. Who am I to tell my private nightmares to if I can’t tell them to you?” This haunting line, a poignant glimpse into their tortured intimacy, regrettably slips by unnoticed.
Despite Lloyd’s signature practice of minimizing props – which delightfully leads to Reeves miming eating an invisible carrot and conversing with a full mouth – the production feels confined within its wooden tube. It comes across as rushed and superficial rather than deeply insightful, and ultimately less humorous than it should be because it lacks the necessary human depth.
When the supporting characters, Pozzo and Lucky, manage to steal the spotlight, it’s a clear sign that something has gone considerably off track. And indeed, Pozzo and Lucky, masterfully blending the comical with the alarming, effortlessly dominate the stage.
To be fair, Lloyd strategically cast seasoned stage professionals for these pivotal roles: Brandon J. Dirden (“Take Me Out”) as the cruel and unpredictable Pozzo, and Michael Patrick Thornton (from Lloyd’s “A Doll’s House”) as Lucky, his enslaved companion. Under Jon Clark’s eerie lighting, their presence is immediately electrifying. Pozzo, capable of being a charming, honey-tongued Southern gentleman when it suits him, is otherwise a merciless bully. Vain and fastidious, he’s the type of tyrant who would meticulously plan a manicure on his metaphorical road to hell, which, within Beckett’s Christian-infused play, is undoubtedly his ultimate destination.
Lucky, despite a black muzzle covering most of his face, emerges as a surprising charmer, engaging the audience and inviting their participation in his endearing wheelchair dance. Later, with his muzzle removed, he delivers his monumental monologue – a Joycean stream of consciousness often performed as a frantic outpouring. Thornton, however, speaks with remarkable clarity and composure, as if every word makes perfect sense, as if Lucky is finally exhaling, granted an unfettered moment to articulate his thoughts aloud.
Didi and Gogo’s performances significantly improve in Act II, when the production’s initial inertness gives way to more engaging physical comedy. The vaudeville-style business involving bowler hats, a sequence cleverly choreographed by Beckett himself, garners genuinely delighted laughter from the audience.
It’s important to remember that even on Broadway, not every production arrives fully polished. Theater is a living art form, evolving with each performance; it is never a static product.
So, while it’s not a certainty that Reeves and Winter will ultimately elevate their performances to match the compelling strength of Dirden and Thornton, achieving the necessary balance for the production, there is certainly a hopeful possibility. Much like Didi and Gogo, who face each new day with renewed effort, they have time to grow into their roles.
Waiting for Godot
Playing through Jan. 4 at the Hudson Theater, Manhattan.