★★★★

“The partnership between Msamati and Whishaw is first rate”

The setting (Rae Smith) is a desolate stony landscape with no discerning features bar one sad leafless tree. Despite time references of the afternoon and evening there is no discriminating change in lighting (Bruno Poet). It appears to be permanently night-time, practically Nordic.

Two unkempt individuals are doing not very much. Estragon (Lucian Msamati) is seated, trying unsuccessfully to remove his boots. Vladimir (Ben Whishaw) stands idly under the tree. It transpires that they are waiting for Godot, a man of whom they know very little or seemingly even the reason why they are waiting for him. Both men are grungily dressed: Vladimir in a singlet, jogging pants and bobble hat; Estragon in grubby fatigues and a winter fur hat with earflaps. Both have slept rough, Estragon in a ditch after having been beaten up, he says. Vladimir appears to have internal pains. Life is clearly not sweet for this odd couple.

It’s been said that Samuel Beckett has written a great play in which nothing happens and as the second act very much mirrors the first, he has written a play in which nothing happens twice. And yet we are engrossed in what action there is. Director James Macdonald moves the pair around the stage slowly but naturally. Occasionally in moments of anxiety Vladimir breaks into a run but fundamentally they (and we) are waiting. The partnership between Msamati and Whishaw is first rate. The clarity of diction from both men is excellent bringing out all the nuances of Beckett’s text. Whishaw is high energy and highly pitched, Msamati sullen, sulky and velvety.

Beckett describes his work as a ‘tragicomedy’ and it is hard to place exactly where this production lands. The audience laughs at the scene involving the inscrutable landowner Pozzo (Jonathan Slinger) and his cruelty towards his ‘menial’ Lucky (Tom Edden) but it isn’t funny really, is it? Lucky is brilliantly portrayed by Edden with his perfect repetitive actions, his jaw gaping, eyeballs popping and drool flailing. Edden gets his own round of applause for his ‘thinking’ scene but his ‘dancing’ routine could have been extended if the director wished to maximise the comic intent.

For the tragic side of things, the pointlessness of it all is evident, and the silences speak volumes. The two waiting friends consider suicide, but for as much as to find something to do than for ending things forever, it seems. The lasting memory of this production is seeing the bond of friendship grow between Vladimir and Estragon; their discrete holding of hands, or a gentle touch on the shoulder giving a poignancy amidst all the blathering. But with that comes an overwhelming sadness.

It is near on seventy years since the first production of this play which is thought by many as one of the finest in the English language (despite the original being in French!) and certainly ground-breaking in terms of the history of theatre. Waiting for Godot is a play that every theatre lover should see on stage, and this is a very fine production indeed with strong performances throughout. Ben Whishaw and Lucian Msamati are both outstanding. Go see it!

BLUETS at the Royal Court Theatre

★★★

“Undoubtedly audacious and innovative, “Bluets” defies categorisation.”

“Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a colour”. So begins both Maggie Nelson’s 2009 novel, and Margaret Perry’s stage adaptation of the same title. If you wanted to find Nelson’s original in a bookshop, it would be filed under ‘poetry’. It comprises 240 prose poems that, although disjointed, explores the themes of sadness, grief and heartbreak. The colour blue is the obvious common thread which gets woven into the short essays like a Satin Bowerbird would decorate its nest with blue items.

Being unfamiliar with Nelson’s novella (as I am) is no handicap when approaching Perry’s interpretation. Every spoken word is lifted from Nelson’s text and moulded into an hour-long monologue, narrated by three actors all playing the same character. They each express the author’s innermost thoughts in an understated fashion that sometimes borders on whispering. The most striking feature is the staging. One cannot fail to notice the bank of cameras occupying the space, and the large video screen across the back wall. The impulse is to groan inwardly. There’s so much of it about at the moment; with Jamie Lloyd repeating the technique for his latest two productions, and even Ivo van Hove jumping on the bandwagon. But you have to remember that director Katie Mitchell pioneered the form, coining it ‘live cinema’ as far back as 2006.

The intention is that the audience are watching a film being made in real time while the finished product is projected onto the screen above the action. In reality, “Bluets” comes across more as a radio play than a film, and the transition from the spoken word to the visual perspective is often a distraction rather than an enhancement. It is ingeniously realised though. With the use of props and a mix of close ups and superimposed backdrops the impression of watching a film is uncannily simulated. We are often in awe at the technical wizardry, not to mention the concentration and prowess of the backstage crew. But the content inevitably suffers, and is overshadowed. So much so that we also forget the starry line up in the cast.

Ben Whishaw, Emma D’Arcy and Kayla Meikle are A, B and C respectively. But it doesn’t matter, as A, B and C are all the same person. The three performers move and speak as one, finishing each other’s sentences and covering up each other’s frequent non-sequiturs. It often resembles the childhood game of ‘Consequences’, but more grown up and sadly duller. Which is a shame. Stripped of the cleverness that surrounds them, the words would resonate much more if allowed to speak for themselves. Nelson’s writing is beautifully rhythmic, reflective and evocative. There are frequent pauses in the pathos and the poetry. The tight choreography of monologue and movement trips every so often as we worry that a prop is delivered correctly and on time, or that the actor is still on the right page.

Amid the clutter of a film set and the chaos of non-chronological shooting, it is only in the editing room that the vision begins to become coherent. In “Bluets” we get the sense that we are watching the raw material, and we are given little time or space to reflect on what the performers are saying. We are left with having to try and decipher it later, but at least are inspired to root out the original book.

Undoubtedly audacious and innovative, “Bluets” defies categorisation. Sometimes dreamlike, it also shows the grinding cogs that conjure the dreams. It verges on being hypnotic while narrowly avoiding soporific. The hour does seem to stretch, but the urge to look at our watches is mercifully suppressed enough as we are occasionally caught off guard by a moving and lyrical turn of phrase. An intriguing piece of theatre and at times a poignant exploration of grief, loneliness, sadness, heartbreak – but also pleasure. Yet the true emotion is hard to locate in this interpretation and only really tracked down in retrospect; like “a pile of thin blue gels scattered on the stage long after the show has come and gone”. It’s a challenge, but one worth taking.

Tag Archives: Ben Whishaw

WAITING FOR GODOT

★★★★

Theatre Royal Haymarket

WAITING FOR GODOT at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

★★★★

“The partnership between Msamati and Whishaw is first rate”

WAITING FOR GODOT at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Reviewed on 19th September 2024

by Phillip Money

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

FARM HALL | ★★★★ | August 2024

HEATHERS | ★★★ | July 2021

WAITING FOR GODOT

WAITING FOR GODOT

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BLUETS

★★★

Royal Court Theatre

BLUETS at the Royal Court Theatre

★★★

“Undoubtedly audacious and innovative, “Bluets” defies categorisation.”