We wait and we hope for that grade, that job offer or that scholarship; for a national championship; for an acceptance letter; for Bank of America to get back on the phone line; for love or lust to come our way; for health care reform or November 2012; for a salvation of any kind.
Our entire lives are one constant state of wait. We move from one limbo to the next, waiting for events to unfold and hoping they develop favorably. Remember longing as a child for the day when you would be a grown-up with a fire truck and control of your own destiny? Where is your fire truck, and where is that control? Keep waiting.
Unfortunately, as we well know from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, “the waiting is the hardest part.” Particularly in this age of iPhones, Nespresso machines and 8-Minute Abs, in which we expect fast results and instant answers, waiting is a source of exhaustion and anxiety. By the time life comes to an end, one is almost tempted to choose the finality of Hell rather than endure more waiting in Purgatory.
How are we supposed to cope with these waits that drive us into madness? A good start would be to see the Classical Theatre of Harlem’s production of Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” for the Duke Performances series this weekend in the Reynolds Theater.
“Waiting for Godot” is simple in its structure. The setting is stark—it is merely described as “A country road. A tree. Evening.” The plot simply consists of Gogo and Didi, as Estragon and Vladimir affectionately refer to each other, literally waiting for a character named Godot to come and “save” them. The resolution resolves little for the characters, as Godot never comes. The play is easy to follow, but a precise meaning proves difficult or impossible to ascertain.
Often critics say it is about waiting in vain for God. They are probably right, as Godot is referred to as an old man with a white beard who “does nothing,” not to mention that the name Godot is clearly reminiscent of the word God. Others say “Waiting for Godot” is about waiting for freedom. They are probably also right as Beckett himself wanted the play to be produced in the United States with an all-black cast during the Civil Rights movement. The production this weekend at Duke carries with it the political subtext of the victims of Hurricane Katrina waiting for aid. Judging by the Classical Theatre of Harlem’s production’s positive reviews from major newspapers across the country, this retelling of Godot is valid as well.
What exactly Estragon and Vladimir are waiting for though, whether it be God, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 or FEMA, is not important. What matters is that they are waiting for something, and consequently Estragon and Vladimir are positioned to instruct us how to deal with our own waits.
From the very first line in the play until the end, Gogo and Didi, literature’s resident experts on waiting, offer their advice: “nothing to be done.” It is not looking good for Didi, Gogo or those of us on the metaphorical “waitlist.” So together we go on waiting and hoping, but as Vladimir says in an attempt to reference half of a biblical verse, “Hope deferred maketh [the heart] sick.”
Here we are then, waiting for our Godots—a job offer, an acceptance letter, a call from a crush or a medical test result—growing sicker by the day with frustration. As for Didi and Gogo, they are in a slightly more precarious spot. They end both days in which the plot takes place with discussions of the merits of hanging themselves and once and for all ending their wait. But they do not, and we can infer will not, go through with it.
“We’ll hang ourselves to-morrow. (Pause). Unless Godot comes,” Didi says.
“And if he comes,” Gogo replies.
“We’ll be saved.”
Each day this will be their conclusion: to prolong their deaths until the next day out of hope that Godot at last comes to “save” them. “Waiting for Godot” may strike you as dark, or even as nihilistic, but it is not. It is a most subdued celebration of the faintest shred of hope that readies us to continue our waits.
Jordan Rice is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Thursday.
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