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A  Godot  Gallery  2013  by  the  Senior  Seminar  in  Literature    @  Walnut  Hill  School  for  the  Arts  

     

                 

 

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Contents Why Not Leave 1 Andrew Ramsey Seemingly Trivial 3 Antonia DaSilva Lucky Gets It 6 Emily Kessler Opposites Attract 9 Rosie Silverstein Third Wheeling 12 Fiora Elbers-Tibbitts ‘Til Death (or Godot) Do Us Part 15 Elise Chessman The Danger of Silence 18 Sofia Haines Estragon, Estragon. 21 Emily Place Will They Ever Leaf? 23 Hannah Schott Sam Let’s ‘Em Have It! 25 Kori Alston Shall We Go? 28 George Teng Some Scary Solitude 32 Megan Flynn

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Why Not Leave? Andrew Ramsey

ESTRAGON: [giving up again] Nothing to be done. (1)

The opening of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot presents the two leading characters, Vladimir, more commonly referred to as Didi, and Estragon, better known as Gogo. They are alone on a barren stage, with only a tree and a reflection of the moon. Gogo has been trying to remove his boot, and proclaims that there is “Nothing to be done” (1). Gogo and Didi proceed with lines of inquisition, neither drawing any reasonable conclusions. Gogo then proposes that they leave, but Didi stops him, citing their obligation to wait for the mysterious Mr. Godot.

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The first line of the play is truly indicative of the play as a whole. Samuel Beckett provides sparse information about the scene and purpose of the play, including only the characters, the limited scenery, and the major plot point: Gogo and Didi are waiting for a man name Godot. However, it is never explained why. Not through expository dialogue between the characters, who constantly dodge the subject at hand, nor through stage directions or indirect mention of the purpose of their waiting. A crucial theatrical concept that applies here is the motive of staying where you are, or in more concise terms, what is keeping the actor(s) in the current moment at that place and time? That seems to be the greatest question in Waiting for Godot, why do Gogo and Didi stay? There is mention of fear of retribution from Mr. Godot, yet that line of thought is never pursued further.

It seems that there are two scenarios: Either Gogo and Didi have an unspoken reason for staying, which is never vocalized and told to the audience, or perhaps the two men truly have no reason for staying. The latter seems to be much more likely, as Beckett presents these two men as completely clueless at times, which would certainly explain the predicament they find themselves in.

As aforementioned, Beckett provides very limited imagery, and there is no explanation of the world outside of the set, and no insight as to where they are and in what time period. Beckett creates a feeling of desperation among the two men, and as Gogo mentions, there is nothing to be done, so they might as well wait out the days and nights until Godot comes, for the potential gain he might bring along with his presence. For the simple unspoken possibility of reward, these two men wait. And wait. And wait.

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Seemingly Trivial Antonia DaSilva

ESTRAGON: Funny, the more you eat the worse it gets. VLADIMIR: With me it’s just the opposite. ESTRAGON: In other words? VLADIMIR: I get used to the muck as I go along.

(13) Estragon and Vladimir contemplate the coming of Godot, what he will offer them if he does come, the people he must consult before making a decision and whether or not they are figuratively tied to him. The conversation then turns to vegetables as Estragon complains that he is hungry. Vladimir offers him a turnip, but Estragon demands a carrot. After much searching, Vladimir produces his last carrot and Estragon commences munching. As Estragon munches, they continue their discussion of the possibility that they are tied to Godot. Estragon comments on the declining quality of the carrot, and Vladimir contradicts this idea, leading the discussion into a back and forth about different temperaments and character. They conclude that there is no use struggling with one’s temperament because there is nothing that can be done about it – what matters does not change. Estragon offers the remains of the carrot to Vladimir.

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In this scene Estragon and Vladimir discuss two topics that appear to be on different ends of the spectrum of importance. The issue of whether Vladimir has a carrot or a turnip to use for ending Estragon’s hunger seems insignificant. Estragon prefers the carrot, but once he receives it, is not particularly enthusiastic about it. On the other end of the spectrum is the discussion that follows the discussion about vegetables: the idea that one can’t change one’s character, and so there is no use even trying. At first, this issue seems much more important, but Vladimir and Estragon’s dialogue suggests that the question of character and the question of the carrot vs. the turnip are equally trivial – neither topic is more important or merits more attention and care. Neither matters very much. Just as Estragon decides that there is nothing special or important about the carrot vs. the turnip issue, a conclusion is implied that there is no reason to improve their situation, their outlook, or life in general. The repetitive pattern of Vladimir and Estragon’s conversation shows a lack of progression and also a lack of an attempt at progression. Getting used to “the muck” instead of figuratively pushing on it, pulling on it, or trying to get away from it, implies that Vladimir and Estragon don’t really care. They decide that there is no point in trying because the important things won’t ever change anyway. What are the important things? Certainly not the carrot and the turnip. A person’s temperament or view of the world, however, is not really important either. No more emphasis is placed on these large-scale issues than is placed on the carrot. If this is the case, then it implies a lack of an individual identity between Vladimir and Estragon. They are different people in that they have separate bodies, but what else really separates them? The lack of difference in personality implies that they could be interchanged but that would not have a huge affect. This idea is confirmed in the play when Vladimir says, “With me it’s just the opposite,” and then Estragon questions his statement: ESTRAGON: [after prolonged reflection] Is that the opposite? VLADIMIR: Question of temperament. ESTRAGON: Of character.

(13)

Here the discussion shows not only the slow progression of Vladimir and Estragon’s discourse, but it also emphasizes the idea that there is nothing very different between the two. Estragon thinks that, perhaps, their opinions are not that different from each other in the end. In trivializing temperament and character so much, Vladimir and Estragon’s dialogue implies that one person is not more or less interesting or unique than another. The one thing that is important to Estragon and Vladimir, however, is that they are waiting for Godot. This is inescapable for them. They are figuratively stuck in this daily procedure. Their attachment to this odd ritual leads to there being no point in trying to change their condition. They even question the idea that they are “tied” to Godot: VLADIMIR: Tied?

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ESTRAGON: Ti-ed. VLADIMIR: How do you mean tied? ESTRAGON: Down. VLADIMIR: But to whom? By whom? ESTRAGON: To your man.

(13)

This further emphasizes the idea that the importance of the quality of their lives is on the same plane as the importance of the carrot vs. the turnip. What matters is that they are waiting for Godot, and they must keep waiting for Godot. In a cyclical way this waiting for Godot keeps them from changing their way of life. Their theory that they are tied to him indicates their inability to get away from a monotonous lifestyle, but it also shows that this inability is self-imposed – they both can’t, and choose not to, alter their condition.

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Lucky Gets It Emily Kessler

LUCKY: It is established…that man…wastes and pines…

(33-35) Gogo and Didi have spent some time observing Lucky. Pozzo asks them if they want to see him perform: "Shall we have him dance, or sing, or recite, or think" (30). After seeing him dance, Didi asks Pozzo to have him think. The speech that ensues is more than two pages long, and seemingly incoherent. When picked through, though, the speech reveals itself to be a drawn-out sentence fragment. Within the fragment is the above quotation.

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Like Waiting for Godot itself, Lucky's speech never gets resolved. It begins with a dependent clause: "Given the existence…of a personal God" (33). Normally, this clause would be met by an independent clause: for instance, this sentence might read, "Given the existence of a personal God [dependent clause], my cat turned to religion [independent clause]." It doesn't make much sense that way, but at least it's a full sentence. Beckett opts for a never-ending fragment instead. Lucky tries three times to return to his original statement, but he never completes it with an independent clause. He goes off on ever-longer tangents: sometimes to elaborate, as with his description of the suffering of God at the top of page 34, and sometimes to obsessively list, as with the "sports of all sorts" near the bottom of the same page. By the end of the speech, Lucky short-circuits, repeating previous phrases and words with no evident care for their meaning. It follows that even after many readings, Lucky's speech is still hard to understand. In order to pursue understanding, then, let us cut the crap, as it were. Sticking to bare-bones dependent clauses, relevant descriptors, select uses of "and," and present-tense verbs – leaving out the ones that only serve as lead-ins, like "I resume" – the speech can be reduced to a much shorter sentence fragment. Without any doctoring, it reads as follows:

Given the existence…of a personal God…with white beard…who…loves us dearly…and suffers…with those who…are plunged in torment…as a result of the labors left unfinished…by the Acacacacademy of Anthropopopometry…it is established…that man…wastes and pines…fades away…and…in the light of the labors lost of Steinweg and Peterman it appears…

With stitching, punctuation, and marked rationalization, it becomes a full sentence:

Given the existence of a God with [a] white beard, who loves us dearly and suffers with those who are plunged in torment, it is established that man wastes and pines.

Because Lucky only gets to speak in this one scene for the duration of the play, it is essentially implied that if he has anything coherent to say, it's important. The fact that man wastes and pines is a pillar of Waiting for Godot. To waste is to "[lose] or decrease by use, wear, or decay" (Merriam-Webster Online); to pine is "to suffer a mental and physical decline, esp. because of a broken heart" (Google). The whole story of Gogo and Didi is about wasting and pining as they wait for Godot. Lucky, too, fits the pattern; as Gogo and Didi note upon first observing him, Lucky barely looks human. His neck is chafed from the rope, his hair is unkempt, and he drools like a dog. In sum: There is no shortage of wasting/pining men in this play. Why, then, is it so important for Lucky to say "that man wastes and pines"? Why does Beckett go to such trouble to conceal that idea within the rest of Lucky's speech?

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The answer lies in the interpretation of Lucky's statement. In order to read said statement without bias, it must be broken down: translated, basically, into more pliable words. A white-bearded God who loves us enough to suffer with us is generally the type of God that monotheistic people (i.e., Samuel Beckett's audience) believe in. "That man wastes and pines" means that humans spend their lives wasting and pining. Because the sentence has an "if…then" structure--or, more precisely, "Given this, then that"--these two separate ideas (God and the decay of humanity) are connected with a cause-and-effect-type link. Here's what the new, broken-down sentence might look like:

If God exists in the way that we imagine him, then we spend our lives wasting and pining in his name.

It stands to reason that Lucky might be an agnostic. In early-1950s France, where

Waiting for Godot premiered, doubt in God was likely a taboo, so the fact that Lucky is doubtful about or angry toward God had to be wrapped to near-invisibility in the guise of lunacy.

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Opposites Attract Rosie Silverstein

ESTRAGON: Don’t touch me! Don’t question me! Don’t speak to me! Stay with me! VLADIMIR: Did I ever leave you? ESTRAGON: You let me go.

(49) Estragon and Vladimir are the only figures on stage. They have just finished their usual superficial banter, when very meaningful and sensitive dialogue emerges. As Vladimir spits out serious questions (pertaining to beating), Estragon answers with a rather serious reply. There is the unusual absence of stage directions in this short three-line scene. Estragon quickly tries and succeeds to change the subject, soon after this specific part.

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Estragon wants to be left alone mentally but has the desire to physically be close to someone--not with someone but to someone. Although Estragon wants to be let alone, he does not want to feel the sensation of loneliness. He wants to be proximal to another body, regardless of who plays the role of this ‘other body’. The comfort of another being serves as shelter and protection for Estragon, yet he lacks the need for any emotional or intellectual relationship (at this given point in time). Especially with what seems like a recurring beating problem for Estragon, “Who beat you? Tell me,” he requires this safety blanket.

Estragon’s last line “you let me go”, indicates that Vladimir has left Estragon in the past, and it can be inferred from the surrounding stage directions, “Estragon remains silent, head bowed,” that it was not a pleasurable experience for him. Instead it was one that he dreads and even has fear of re-experiencing. Though Vladimir’s mental presence is unwanted the presence of another person satisfies Estragon. Vladimir’s question, from the chosen scene, infers that he doesn’t recall leaving Estragon or that Vladimir’s understanding of letting Estragon go does not coincide with leaving him. Vladimir’s ignorance of leaving Estragon is hurtful; because it was most likely not a lapse in memory. If so, Vladimir would have some type of dialogue relating to the recollection of a long lost memory, “Oh, right!” Instead, Vladimir quickly regains the reins, and returns to his dominant position of the demander, “Look at me. Will you look at me!”. Though this last phrase is actually a question, Beckett instead uses an exclamation to solidify the return of character. Therefore, this disagreement of ‘letting go’ vs. ‘leaving’ is due to misunderstanding. ‘Letting go’ can be seen as the separation of hands, appropriately physical for Estragon to say. But, perhaps Vladimir views ‘leaving’ as something the inner self is able to do without the outer body. A person is able to mentally leave a relationship, while physically remaining in the same spot. Vladimir’s text can be seen as reassurance that he never mentally left Estragon’s side, though Estragon may have seen their physical separation as a type of ‘letting go’.

Estragon’s simple answer, not under- or overstated, is condensed but extremely clear. Estragon and Vladimir can be seen as two halves that make up one being throughout Waiting for Godot:

ESTRAGON: Let’s go. VLADIMIR: We can’t. ESTRAGON: Why not? VLADIMIR: We’re waiting for Godot. ESTRAGON: Ah! You’re sure it was here?

(6) This conversation is fundamentally formed with Vladimir’s replies in response to Estragon’s seemingly continuous flow of questions. Estragon, in the chosen scene, is the physical or body half representation of the being, demanding that he be left alone while throughout most of the play he cherishes the company and aid of his other mentally-dominant half. Although Estragon is labeled early as the questioner, Vladimir takes over this role in this

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scene. Estragon successfully and confidently demands and replies to Vladimir question, because it does pertain to his physical proximity to another being, and he is able to speak with confidence on this subject.

Though Estragon’s speech, “Don’t ____ me!”, relates to the physical figure, it is mindful and meaningful as well. He is, in a sense, also speaking on behalf of his mental health, and the amount of space it needs, in order to develop it’s own opinions and ideas, for the moment. These figure’s two roles are rarely out of place, but this scene instigates the questions: Though they switched parts in this short scene, is there something that still holds them to their real characters/personalities? Do they have enough of the other half’s traits to function apart? But most importantly, are they able to embody both personas simultaneously? Vladimir, in this scene, takes his intellect and dilutes it to a seemingly simple and submissive question, yet still full of meaning. And Estragon, confident and demanding, has trouble leaving his physical world.

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Third Wheeling Fiora Elbers-Tibbitts

VLADIMIR: I missed you…and at the same time I was happy. Isn’t that a queer thing? ESTRAGON: [shocked] Happy? VLADIMIR: Perhaps it’s not quite the right word. ESTRAGON: And now? VLADIMIR: Now? … [Joyous.] There you are again… [Indifferent.] There we are again… [Gloomy.] There I am again.

(49) At the end of Act I, Vladimir and Estragon part ways and agree to leave their meeting spot and return to wait for Godot the following night, though neither of them indicates that he’s going to move. The curtain is drawn back at the beginning of Act II to reveal Vladimir onstage on his own: a rarity. In order to pass the time while he waits for both Godot and Estragon, he sings and paces. Estragon enters with his head bowed and refuses to make eye contact with Vladimir as a means of protesting his singing; Vladimir has only ever sung when the men were together and there was an occasion for celebration. Vladimir discovers that Estragon has little memory of the previous night; he does not remember the meeting location or the reason they keep returning.

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The characters of Waiting for Godot lack awareness of the implausibility of their situation, which requires a suspension of disbelief and a great deal of patience on the part of the audience. Verbal exchanges in which there is no nuanced, underlying message—meaning that the dialogue follows an easily understood plot point (for instance, when Estragon asks Vladimir “if we wouldn’t have been better off alone”)—are few and far between (44). The characters don’t remain in these moments for longer than a sentence or two before a silence transitions them into the next mundane and repetitive topic of conversation; the idea that these moments of clarity might have been inserted for the sake of the audience is then temporarily put on the back burner. However, at the beginning of Act II, Vladimir tests the boundaries of the playwright/character/audience relationship. Up until this point, Estragon has been the one who asks the questions; Vladimir’s “Isn’t that a queer thing?” could just as easily be addressed to the audience as it could be to Estragon, given the obvious fact that Estragon was not comfortable with Vladimir’s newfound independence (“You see, you feel worse when I’m with you”) (49). Vladimir could have predicted Estragon’s “shocked” response, given that Estragon was offended when he realized that Vladimir had lived soundly on his own, which suggests that he poses the question not for Estragon’s sake, but for the audience’s. He could be asking the audience in earnest, or this could be an attempt to entertain the people watching by drawing them into the small world he shares with only Estragon. The question is vague, answerable with an infinite number of responses from outside sources not already involved in the conversation.

Vladimir further distances himself from Estragon—thereby bringing himself closer to the audience—when he doesn’t follow up on his “Perhaps it’s not quite the right word” musing by finding substitutes that Estragon might find more realistic (49). This sentence becomes a filler sentence, a meta-narration of sorts; it is not designed to provide Estragon with personal assurance of his importance in Vladimir’s life. Vladimir also does not directly answer Estragon’s question of “And now?” by which Estragon means, “How do you feel right now, in comparison to how you felt when you were on your own?” (49) Vladimir uses this relatively open-ended question to zoom the conversation out even further. Not only does he trail off at the end of each of his snippets of thought, but the preposition “there” adds an additional impersonal layer. He says, “There you are again” instead of “Here you are again,” which implies at least a physical, if not an emotional distance from their current location (49). “There you are again” takes on a different kind of character, one who has an outside perspective on both Vladimir and Estragon.

An event or experience must have triggered Vladimir’s need to assume this odd, almost omniscient role in the play. A day has passed since Estragon and Vladimir have seen each other; they have both spent time on their own, presumably contemplating topics other than that of Godot. Vladimir returns prepared to resume waiting, but Estragon has lost much of his memory of the previous night; he cannot remember such serious and abysmal events as their near-attempted joint suicide, and does not recognize the names “Pozzo” and “Lucky.” Estragon and Vladimir are no longer equal in their experiences waiting for Godot,

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and Vladimir must overcompensate for Estragon’s loss of knowledge. Estragon has always been the more theatrical of the two (“Don’t touch me! Don’t question me! Don’t speak to me! Stay with me!”), but Estragon, in his memory gaps, no longer has as many tales to call upon for dramatic reenactment (49). He must instead resort to questioning whether Vladimir has an accurate grasp on the previous night’s occurrences, opening the door for Vladimir to overcompensate for Estragon’s slip by adopting an exposition-heavy persona and recapping events: the perfect inside man for the audience.

Once Act I ends and Estragon’s memory hazes over, the balance of character and audience engagement is thrown off. Estragon, handicapped in his amnesia, has been compromised as a character essential to the play’s progression, and an additional voice must be added to take his place. In order to forego the inclusion of another actor, the audience’s memory and perspective are called upon. Even comprised of people who have never directly interacted with Estragon or Vladimir, the audience has been privy to as much information as they have—perhaps even more, given the merit of an outside party capable of objectivity—and is prepared to take on the challenge of interpretation. The goal of Waiting for Godot is to call attention to thought; in the end, all that matters is that someone is listening.

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‘Til Death (or Godot) Do Us Part Elise Chessman

ESTRAGON: You see, you feel worse when I’m with you. I feel better alone too. VLADIMIR: [vexed] Then why do you always come crawling back? ESTRAGON: I don’t know.

(49-50) In this scene, Estragon and Vladimir have just found each other after spending a night apart. Estragon has been beat up by ten people, while Vladimir has slept the night through and felt strangely happy. Vladimir still informs Estragon that he has missed him. Here, they consider the significance of their relationship and why they cannot separate. Vladimir protects Estragon from beatings by having an awareness of his mannerisms that provoke, and Vladimir also serves to refresh Estragon’s memories and answer his questions. Yet, aside from these factors of their relationship, they cannot separate for the main purpose that they must return each subsequent day to wait for Godot. This forms into a cycle.

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Estragon and Vladimir have an inseparable relationship that continually cycles back on itself, for despite the desire for separation they cannot function as individuals, and instead form into a singular character. Their relationship forms them into a status of oneness, a fully functioning human of brains and brawn. They are two halves of one person, opposites like the left and right brain, yet similar in their connectedness and oneness. This is even present in their appearances; Estragon is a shorter, stockier individual, with Vladimir is long and lanky, yet they both wear almost identical costumes. This reflects into their interactions with Pozzo and Lucky as well as their ability to complete each other’s thoughts. Their relationship is a cycle of leaving each other and then crawling back to the state of limbo that is waiting for Godot. Their relationship has continued in this manner, together “all the time” for “fifty years maybe” (44), which means that this state of waiting could have existed for the entirety of that time, if the cyclical nature of the play has continued over that span. They cannot ever travel far away from each other in order to truly create separation that would prevent this crawling back that continues to occur; they must return tomorrow to wait for Godot. This is due to their need for each other, and their need to continue waiting. Their reliance on each other causes them to fail in the real world, and they must always return to wait for Godot. As is said at the very end of the play, if they do not wait “he’d punish us” (53). Thus, their relationship continues, serving no purpose and making no meaning. The way in which they interact enlightens the idea that they cannot make sense of their surroundings or ever reach a state of conclusiveness. Estragon’s curiosity can usually be satisfied by Vladimir’s answers, and often their rapid-fire successions work to support ideas and assist them into forming a single stream of consciousness. For example, this type of continuation can be found four pages subsequent to the quote (53), in which they ascertain an idea about leaves through their banter that follows as such:

VLADIMIR: What do they say? ESTRAGON: They talk about their lives. VLADIMIR: To have lived is not enough for them. ESTRAGON: They have to talk about it. VLADIMIR: To be dead is not enough for them. ESTRAGON: It is not sufficient.

This is an example of banter that is full of questions and thoughts that the counterpart assists to conclude. Yet their conclusion is only about the nature of leaves, nothing truly significant. There are several instances of this throughout. Despite their banter and questioning, they are not utilizing this type of conversation to make discoveries. While Vladimir restores Estragon’s purpose in life and serves as a reminder, their banter never leads anywhere, and ends up looping back to Vladimir reminding Estragon that they are waiting for Godot. Vladimir and Estragon’s relationship in Waiting for Godot is as empty as the play is because of how they function together. Nothing ever happens in the play and the curtain

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closes on Vladimir and Estragon standing there, preparing to return the next day and do the exact same thing. Vladimir and Estragon lack an ability to act on anything, which makes the state of waiting that forms the entire play even more nonsensical. They are a unit that conversationally and physically do not function well upon separation and need the other half to fully function. They are unhappy in their togetherness, and even consider hanging themselves, but never with enough conviction to actually act upon it, again displaying their inconclusiveness. They are left stuck, with no conclusion made, and the only life they know is to continue to wait for Godot and to have bland interactions with each other. If they do not wait they will be punished, and thus they cannot separate and see how they function individually for an extended period of time. They define their own nothingness with their attachment to each other, centered on Godot. This pattern of waiting is significant because it means that their lives are defined solely in the context of each other and their status of waiting. The state of limbo leaves these two entities of a more singular personality seeking death, but having no means. Thus, their misery and togetherness will continue until Godot saves them, which based on this pattern will never happen, or until they die.

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The Danger of Silence Sofia Haines

[Long silence.] VLADIMIR: Say something! ESTRAGON: I’m trying! [Long silence.] VLADIMIR [in anguish]: Say anything at all! (53)

In the beginning of Act II, Vladimir and Estragon have reunited once more, with Estragon’s complaints of a brutal beating by ten men and Vladimir’s confessions of a peaceful, joyous night spent alone. They briefly debate Vladimir’s unusual joy of the prior evening, despite Estragon’s absence, then argue as to whether Estragon is able to care for and defend himself. Vladimir insists that Estragon say that he is happy, and they resume “waiting.” The duo begins to discuss Estragon’s forgetfulness regarding the visit of Pozzo and Lucky, as well as the rest of their travels, and then they speak of the dead and their quiet voices. Vladimir suggests that they “start all over again,” while Estragon assures that they can start from anything. Vladimir claims that one “must decide” and Estragon confirms this truth. After a long silence, Vladimir exclaims his plea for help.

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Throughout the first act, and the start of the second, the relationship between Estragon and Vladimir is firmly established. Their constant dialogue, as well the nature of the play itself (a constant setting, the fact that interruption by other characters is relatively rare) leads to the fact that the central development of the play is consistently how Estragon and Vladimir interact with one another-- a spotlight is forced upon them. Estragon relies on Vladimir to feed him, to remind him of what the two are doing beneath an isolated tree, and, apparently, to defend Estragon against (potentially imagined) assailants whom he unknowingly provokes. In short: Estragon asks the questions and requires assistance, while Vladimir provides the answers and supplies whatever help Estragon might need.

However, in this set of lines, it is Vladimir who pleads for assistance from the previously- incompetent Estragon. It’s not a plea for help of the physical kind-- Vladimir doesn’t seem to have any real issues with his wardrobe and doesn’t appear to suffer any sort of bodily harm-- but instead, it seems that Vladimir is begging for Estragon to provide a segue into a manner for the duo to continue conversation. The silence that comes before the plea, which is fervently interrupted by Vladimir, suggests that Vladimir is afraid that should neither he nor Estragon interject quickly, the silence will persevere. Vladimir seems unable to appreciate a companionable silence. He instead appears to fear silence, possibly for what it will bring upon its arrival; perhaps haunting memories of other locations where Vladimir and Estragon have waited for Godot to arrive, or perhaps memories of thousands of days past beneath which they remain today; perhaps even the suspicion that Godot will never arrive. In this instance, and for the first time, Estragon seems to be conscious of what their situation is—that is, that something “bad” is actively occurring, and that it’s his job to remedy it.

As seen in first act, Vladimir consistently reminds his compatriot of what, exactly, prevents them from leaving their place beneath the tree to explore the world, as they seem to have done in the past. Like clockwork, Estragon lets out an elongated sigh; seemingly both surprised and disappointed each time. However, as seen in the quotation above, Estragon seems to understand Vladimir’s desperation and comprehends his duties, without having had a recent explanation as to what he and Vladimir wait for as they sit in the muck beneath an old tree. In this sense, it’s possible that Estragon, does, in fact, remember the details that Vladimir provides for him from day to day regarding the wait for Godot.

This lonely duo has been together for nearly fifty years. It’s apparent that although their time together has been extensive, and the familiarity that they share is both intimate and unrivaled by anyone else they have encountered, they are unable to sit in silence alongside one another. In a span of time as large as fifty years, it’s likely that (outside of sleeping) the pair have engaged in long silences before; however, it’s made clear in this section that both Vladimir and Estragon have an intense aversion to elongated quiet.

Silence often has chilling effect on those who have too much to think about (or, alternatively, too little). What can be drawn from this brief exchange between the two is that Vladimir and Estragon are aware of what they would be left to marinate in should silence

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overtake them. Silence is the ultimate antagonist; without conversation and banter, the water holding up the small shanty within which they reside is drained. They are left to face the barren facts: the little boy whom they encounter night after night has never recognized them, and probably never will; Godot hasn’t arrived, after years of empty promise; Vladimir and Estragon have wasted their lives in the cold and muck for a man who has become so convoluted and distant that he might as well not exist. If they’ve encountered these worries before, and now actively attempt to prevent them from arising again, it’s possible that the men have created a routine for themselves to act out to ward away the fears they actually do know to exist.

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Estragon, Estragon. Emily Place

VLADIMIR: They make a noise like wings. ESTRAGON: Like leaves. VLADIMIR: Like sand. ESTRAGON: Like leaves. … VLADIMIR: They make a noise like feathers. ESTRAGON: Like leaves. VLADIMIR: Like ashes. ESTRAGON: Like leaves.

(53) In this section of the play Vladimir and Estragon are seen talking onstage, unaccompanied by anyone they met in the first act. Still waiting for Godot, the pair has returned to the side of the country road. It is evening once again and the stage appears the same as before. Their conversation has been one of memory and thought. But as the conversation branches into comparisons of their empty memories and thoughts, Estragon gets caught in repetition. Vladimir’s capability in finding multiple ways to articulate his thoughts often highlights that Estragon can not, leading their many dialogues throughout the play to follow a similar structure to the quote above.

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The repetition in Beckett’s Waiting for Godot does not only occur locally within a moment, but throughout all the play. Using details ranging from the plot of both acts to Estragon’s ideas, the audience is able to predict what comes next. Order and consistency can be helpful in a play. They guide through the plot and create a steady progression. But certain parts of this play fail to progress, or at least in an obvious way. There are many instances where there is a possibility for something to change and expand, but most times something prevents anything but what has already happened to occur. One of the most obvious forms of repetition is in the plot of act one and two. Both follow the same structure: Vladimir and Estragon start out talking, receive a visit from Pozzo and Lucky, speak once more on their own, are approached by the young boy, and the curtain drops on the image of just the two of them. Following the same pattern for both acts gives the play the ability to revise what happened in act one to build for a stronger act two and close to the play. Beckett did change the characters of Pozzo and Lucky, who in the second act are strangers to Vladimir and Estragon. Also Vladimir shows greater thought in the second act than he did in the first. Even the boy is new, also assuming the role of a stranger.

This leaves Estragon. While the other characters in the play have changed, for better or worse, Estragon has stayed the same. The clearest way he cannot seem to progress, is in his thought. Unlike Vladimir, Estragon often describes things in only one way. As the conversation bounces back and forth between he and Vladimir, Vladimir proposes new ideas while Estragon seems to be stuck in his instinct. This could be because of his physical approach, seen throughout the play. His mind has shown to only recall memories that involved physical pain or actions. For example, Estragon was able to remember being kicked by Lucky in act one but not who Lucky was. Therefore when articulating thoughts, Estragon may have trouble moving past his ‘gut feeling’ to explore other possibilities.

But what if Estragon repeated himself on purpose? As a result of Estragon’s physical approach to most situations the two encounter, Vladimir has taken over the thinking for the two of them. During Act One Vladimir thought openly to the audience and was the first to approach Pozzo, Lucky, and the boy. The audience can also infer that since the two have known each other for fifty years, this is not the first or only instance where Vladimir has taken the lead. Estragon’s inability to express himself mentally creates a hierarchy between he and Vladimir. But in the second act, Estragon becomes more vocal. Even though he repeats himself, this could be his attempt to challenge Vladimir and think for himself. Estragon sticks to his initial opinion in many instances and does not change his mind. Estragon could be trying so hard to articulate his thoughts that he ends up repeating the same ideas for different topics. As Vladimir continues to further his thinking, it can be seen as a challenge for Estragon to do the same. As the opportunities for Estragon to dig deeper continue to build, he is unable to produce new responses and falls short of the expectations of a great change. Because he cannot progress, the conversation between he and Vladimir is also stuck. Vladimir and Estragon have been seen often as a pair, and if one half of the pair is lacking then it is inevitable that they both become stuck in the repetition of their conversations.

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Will They Ever Leaf?

Hannah Schott

VLADIMIR: Behind the tree. (Estragon hesitates.) Quick! Behind the tree. (Estragon goes and crouches behind the tree, realizes he is not hidden, comes out from behind the tree.) Decidedly this tree will not have been the slightest use to us.

(64) Waiting for Godot takes place under a tree. Throughout the duration of the show, although the characters in the show leave the spot under the tree, the audience never sees any place in their atmosphere except the one under the tree. They interact with the tree several times during the show--discussing it’s physical change, wishing to hang themselves from it, using it as an identifier that they have returned to the same space, and unsuccessfully hiding behind it.

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The tree in Waiting for Godot serves first as a set piece, to distinguish the time and place for the audience. The tree is on stage for the entirety of the show--it never moves or disappears, and even between the acts Vladimir and Estragon still return to the same spot under the same tree. This mirrors the repetition of the show--the consistency in discussion, place, and characters.

The tree is also a symbol that makes the location familiar and accessible to viewers. A ‘tree’ is one of the most basic and common items or ‘places’ that the human brain can recognize, and using the tree as the setting for this show makes it so abstract that one can picture the show taking place in their backyard or in an unknown and unexplored area of the world. The concept of nature relates back to the cyclical nature of the show. In Act II, when the tree has grown leaves, it is demonstrative of seasons and growth, representing a true physical visible cycle for the audience. It also shows progression within the show, establishing that from Act I to Act II time has actually passed, although the amount of time is somewhat unclear. The tree developing leaves creates a non-stagnant atmosphere that sets up Act II to contain progression in its ideas.

However, the tree sprouts leaves in a single night, which is not physically possible. This means that the time that has passed is longer than one single night, and that the two have a distorted sense of time, as well as night and day. The little boy as well does not remember them from the day before, suggesting that they did not have the conversation with the little boy the day before either. If Estragon and Vladimir have an untrue sense of time, perhaps they do not realize their ‘waiting’, as well as often forget about it, and perhaps Estragon does not remember the place they return to as well as Vladimir does simply because they literally were not there the night before, but many nights before. Losing a sense of time within the show also means that the show becomes messier and more abstract, as well as a reflection on either the setting or Vladimir and Estragon themselves. Though it is not central to the plot of the show, the tree is involved in the action. Vladimir and Estragon discuss hanging themselves from the tree, though they do not have a strong enough or long enough rope to do so. In Act II, the tree is used to determine that they are in the correct location--the same place they were yesterday. Finally, when they hear someone coming, they attempt to hide behind the tree, and when they fail, it is decided that the tree will not have been of any use to them at all. The show ends with their discussion of suicide once again, concluding that tomorrow they will come back with better rope and hang themselves once and for all. The tree serves not only as a set piece, but as a prop, a clock, and a navigator. Since it is the only thing on stage besides the actors, it becomes a constant in the show (although there could be inconsistency in their concept of time period). This idea is reinforced when at the top of Act II it is used to identify their location. Since it is decided later that the tree, the one solid, constant thing they truly have will have been of no use to them, it makes the one truly real, consistent thing within their lives of no value--a trait that is perhaps reflected within their own lives.

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Sam Let’s ‘Em Have It!

Kori Alston

ESTRAGON: [with finality] Crritic! VLADIMIR: Oh! [He wilts, vanquished, and turns away.]

(66)

Sixty five pages of waiting isn’t easy, especially when a concrete reason for the wait is unknown. Vladimir and Estragon have done just this. Sure, they’ve been entertained by Lucky’s thinking and a few new leaves on a tree and some tight-fitting boots, but nothing lasts forever and new ways of entertainment must be devised. “... let’s abuse each other,” suggests Estragon and off they go. They set off insulting each other, each insult worse than the one before. The game ends with Gogo calling Didi a “Crritic!” and Didi falling in defeat. They go on to entertain themselves by making-up, doing their exercises and of course, doing the yoga tree pose, but it all started with their tennis of nasty names.

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Samuel Beckett voices his opinion. A playwright’s thoughts can often be found through the multidimensional complexity of a character, however, Beckett, never ceasing to break the rules, throws his opinion nearly directly at the audience. He’s not too fond of critics, in fact, he thinks them worse than lice or sewer-rats. “Crritic!” acts as the strike of finality, a blow so low that Vladimir couldn’t even recover with a comeback. It wouldn’t seem surprising that a playwright wasn’t too fond of a theatre critic, however this stance by Beckett is a hypocritical one.

A critic is “one who expresses a reasoned opinion on any matter especially involving a judgment of its value, truth, righteousness, beauty, or technique,” or at least Merriam-Webster thinks so. If this truly is the definition of critic, is Beckett’s dynamic duo not a pair of critics? They spend several pages of the play questioning the value and truth and beauty of their experience and the things around them. They contemplate suicide, wrestle with the decision to stay together or go their separate ways, they even make theories about the Bible and the story of Jesus Christ; they grapple with some pretty deep stuff.

But Beckett bashes the very characters he’s created, suggests that their grappling is disgusting. Through this pairing of patterns, has Beckett revealed that he has crafted these characters and this plot as an example of what he thinks one shouldn’t do? What life shouldn’t be?

That can’t be right. Vladimir and Estragon are far too charming and funny to have been crafted as an example of something more disgusting than sewer-rats. They act like young children, singing songs and skipping and playing games of “pass the hat.” They’re actually quite cute. Perhaps Beckett was just making a joke. He’s acknowledging the hypocriticality of himself critiquing critics and having himself a little chuckle. It’s not Beckett creating distance between himself and the audience but rather bringing them in closer by explicitly including them in a joke. He’s laughing with them, not at them.

But Vladimir and Estragon are critics, aren’t they? Well, maybe not. Returning back to Merriam-Webster’s definition, one word stands out: judgment. Vladimir and Estragon don’t judge the beauty or truth of life, the charming pair simply question, attempt to understand, it; most of their grappling of big ideas end in question marks, judgments not being made. Neither Vladimir nor Estragon are actual critics. In fact, they are simply players. They play Insult-Tennis, Pozzo-and-Lucky, and most importantly, Bridge-the-Gap. Bridge-the-Gap is a game in which two characters act as channels through which a playwright can communicate with his audience. This game is the most important because it allows for Beckett’s audience to take part in some of the other games (like Insult-Tennis), which extend Beckett’s world of Godot far past the edge of the proscenium. It’s like he’s saying, “Come on guys, don’t take things so seriously. Life’s short, laugh at yourselves.” It’s just that simple. Sure, Waiting for Godot can spark a whole lot of theories and questioning, it certainly sparks it in Vladimir and Estragon. Just as they wait for Godot, the audience waits for resolution and the clarification of metaphors but Beckett knows that neither will come so Vladimir,

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Estragon, and every person in the audience, might as well laugh and enjoy themselves as time trudges by.

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Shall We Go? George Teng

ESTRAGON: Suppose we got up to begin with? VLADIMIR: No harm trying. [They get up.] ESTRAGON: Child’s play. VLADIMIR: Simple question of will-power.

(74) This scene occurs near the end of the second act, after Pozzo and Lucky enter the play for a second time; Pozzo, however, now appears blind, though, aside from this difference, the situation is much the same as their first encounter (Samuel Beckett notes that Pozzo’s rope is shorter, “so that Pozzo may follow [Lucky] more easily,” and that Lucky is wearing a different hat; neither observation is elaborated on.) Pozzo and Lucky both stumble and fall, and, after some deliberation, Vladimir attempts to help Pozzo to his feet, but ends up falling right on top of him. The same happens to Estragon. The group is, for unknown reasons, unable to stand back up, until Estragon, in the quoted passage, asks Vladimir if they should just “[get] up.”

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The plight of Estragon and Vladimir lies in their waiting for an entity that—as implied in the play, though never directly stated—will never come; this Godot, be it a god-like figure, a man, or an intangible concept, is never revealed by Beckett. The ensuing and ongoing debate over who Godot is, or what it represents, in itself seems ironically recursive, mirroring the play in its hopeless lack of any definitive conclusion, and highlights the popular claim that the play is “difficult to analyze,” or “absurd.” This discourse seems almost unnecessary, however, when considering the nature of Estragon and Vladimir’s waiting. They reveal that they have been waiting for an extended period of time, that they have been together for the entire duration of the time; what they do not reveal is their rationale, their reasoning for waiting in the first place. Their plight seems self imposed, especially considering that there are characters within the play itself (Pozzo, Lucky, the little shepherd boy and his (potential) brother) that literally leave the scene, free to come and go, free from the repeated waiting for an entity that might never arrive. This self-imposition of a situation is reflected in Vladimir and Estragon’s fall to the ground while attempting to help Pozzo and Lucky; there is no indication that they were injured in any way from such a minor fall, yet they remain on the ground, genuinely unable to stand (“Well I suppose in the end I’ll get up by myself. [He tries, fails.]”), until one of them asks the other if they should get up. With this inquisition, the pair stands without problem. This inquiry drives at the center of the problem of helplessness. Immediately after the duo stands, Vladimir and Estragon both agree, somewhat haughtily, that their standing was “child’s play,” that it was a “simple question of will-power,” despite their very next act: instead of continuing on their forward momentum of will-power, Estragon proposes that they leave the scene, only to be shot down by Vladimir, who proclaims that they must stay to, again, wait for Godot. This juxtaposition, first of individual free will, then confinement by an invisible entity, illuminates the absurdity of the duo’s problem. If they believe that there is such a thing as free will, that their willpower was the thing that enabled them to stand, why, then, are they unable to stop waiting for Godot? It is clear that they are dissatisfied, often bickering about the state of their condition, and wish to do something else with their lives- they go so far as to debate suicide as a legitimate option to end their waiting. Even though they are not aware why they are waiting, nor for how long they will be waiting, nor any possible negative consequences if they cease waiting, they insist on waiting. Even with their clear display of willpower, they seem ignorant of the possibility that they might not need to wait for this Godot- after all, no other character does; Pozzo and Lucky seem to be churning along in their lives just fine without any thoughts of Godot whatsoever. So, to help understand and come to an analytical conclusion over this now-apparent self-imposed waiting that Estragon and Vladimir have subjugated on themselves, we must, as reader and essay-writer, form a bond like Estragon and Vladimir; hello! Nice to meet you! I trust that through my bleak, analytical, authoritative tone, you trust me enough to lead you through the rest of this essay. With the formalities out of the way, I’d like to direct attention at how this play is usually introduced. In every publication’s review of the play, an introductory paragraph is invariably dedicated to first illuminating the “absurdity” of the

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play, to describe the initial “shocked” audience reactions, to highlight the “complexity” and “difficulty” and “inaccessibility” of this piece of theater. Even our beloved teacher Mr. Stumpf gave initial hints, upon first revealing our studying of this play, that it would be a little absurd, a little different than “usual” pieces of theater, though he, thankfully, refrained from the now-cliché (and, as we will soon see, detracting) banter of how “difficult” the play is to interpret and analyze. Going into a play with this sort of reputation, I was, and, perhaps, you were, already expecting something strange, something out of the ordinary; we were already bracing ourselves for something complicated, and, given this predisposition, we were, actively or passively, searching for things that are complex and confusing. The problem with this mindset arises when we ask the question of whether or not anything in this play truly is inherently complicated. Are the characters any more complex than any other piece of literature? Is there really something special about Estragon or Vladimir that sets them apart from any other fictional character? Is there anything that mysterious about Godot, an invisible entity that only truly affects the minute few of two people in the world of the play? Or, is our perception of the play skewed in favor of the absurd simply because of what we were told prior to reading the play? Now, you and I are in very similar positions as Vladimir and Estragon. Together, we read a play that we thought would be absurd, and because of this notion, we were more apt to view things as absurd than if we had read the play without any preconceived ideas. Vladimir and Estragon spend their lives waiting for Godot because of a preconceived idea that this Godot matters, that this Godot should take precedence in their life, despite evidence that there are others (Pozzo, Lucky) that live completely free of Godot. Like Estragon and Vladimir, we have some perception of free will (you could, for example, stop reading this essay any time you wanted.) Yet, despite this free will, we still lived with the impression that Waiting for Godot was a difficult play; it never occurred to us, prior to reading the work, that the play wasn’t absurd or difficult; this learned helplessness directly affected our thoughts and actions when interpreting this play, molding our thoughts, predisposing us to view any events in the play as “strange” or “absurd.” And, now, we arrive back at our quotation, where—full transparency here—I hope to close things by coming together full-circle. In these five lines, Beckett illuminates the entire damning thought process of learned helplessness, the root of the problem in Waiting for Godot; Vladimir and Estragon have self-imposed their helplessness, and their waiting for Godot is nothing more than learned helplessness, that their condition is, in reality, flexible, but, in their minds, resolute; through this quotation, Beckett explains Vladimir and Estragon’s problem, and, ironically, the problem of readers/watchers of his play:

First, Estragon poses the question: “Suppose we got up to begin with?” And now, I pose the question to you: “Suppose Waiting for Godot really isn’t that

complex of a play.” Then, Vladimir responds: “No harm trying,” and you (hopefully) respond: “No harm

in considering that possibility.” Estragon and Vladimir successfully stand.

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We successfully adapt our knowledge (“use our intelligence”?) of the play with the idea that the play isn’t inherently absurd or difficult to understand.

Child’s play. A simple question of will-power. Now, shall we go?

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Some Scary Solitude Megan Flynn

Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozza passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that what truth will there be? [Estragon, having struggled with his boots in vain, is dozing off again. Vladimir looks at him.] He’ll know nothing. He’ll tell me about the blows he received and I’ll give him a carrot. [Pause.] Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave-digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. [He listens.] But habit is a great deadener. [He looks again at Estragon.] At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. [Pause.] I can’t go on! [Pause.] What have I said? (81)

“I don’t know what to think anymore” says Vladimir as Estragon exclaims for help to take his shoe off, eventually exhausting himself to sleep. No other actions propel Vladimir to proceed to perform his speech, alone. As Estragon sleeps and refuses to be woken up again, Vladimir is forced to finally face loneliness by, first, asking series of questions. “Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today?… But in all that what truth will there be?” This is the one point in the entire play that the character, Vladimir acknowledges the obscure, repetitive nature of Waiting For Godot itself. But, what took him so long? Perhaps he has been able to avoid his loneliness with Estragon constantly by his side. But now that Estragon refuses to be interrupted from sleep, Vladimir is forced to meditate on the daunting unknowns and uncertainties of life; these thoughts that are only provoked when facing his aloneness on stage, in front of an audience.

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These series of questions and uncertainty that Vladimir expresses offers reassurance in a play that anticipates an event that never happens in the play itself. This real recognition and concern that Vladimir expresses is quite comforting. Not only that, but a character, in this case, Vladimir, steps outside of the confusion of the play for a brief but vulnerable moment, and genuinely searches for conclusions:

[He looks again at Estragon.] At me too someone is looking, at me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. [Pause.] I can’t go on!

Vladimir speaks his internal, stream of consciousness rather than formulating all of his discoveries off of Estragon. He relays these thoughts to the audience, and with great uncertainty of what he has been experiencing in his life and the play. The reason Vladimir finally reveals his vulnerability to the audience is because he feels there is no other choice when facing solitude. Estragon has already gotten mad at him for the rude awakenings several times throughout the play, so Vladimir must deal with his own mind and thoughts for the time being- there is no other way he can communicate his feelings onto another person anymore. He is alone with the stage, the audience, and time. The few pauses throughout this speech become all the more powerful and compelling because Vladimir is dealing purely with himself.

But what’s the purpose of having the main character express relatable confusion when it’s interrupted by the same repetitious cycle as if Vladimir said nothing? We finally gain insight in Vladimir’s brain or realizations, and what happens next? His aloneness is broken by the boy who comes on stage to tell Vladimir that Godot will not be coming tonight, once again. The very same repetition that has left Vladimir and perhaps, the audience, wondering what the point is has made another appearance. Perhaps the reason Beckett chooses the boy to enter on stage again is to show that Vladimir has actually been changed by facing his aloneness on stage, but will try hard to push it aside as if it never happened. Vladimir is scared of the search for truth in his speech, which leads him to say:

[Pause.] What have I said? He is just as scared, confused, and uncertain of what has happened these past few days as the audience may be, and that company can be comforting. But ultimately, he refuses to be phased by these lonely thoughts now that Estragon is awake. Vladimir does everything he can to ignore these confused feelings, even when Estragon asks: Estragon: What’s wrong with you? Vladimir: Nothing. Vladimir is depicted as the sensible, stronger character that blocks out fear, loneliness, and refrains from saying phrases like “I can’t go on like this”. That’s all very fair, but what

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happens when being alone becomes unavoidable for Vladimir? What happens if one day Estragon leaves Vladimir, and Vladimir must face his loneliness forever, like we get a glimpse of in his speech? Loneliness would consume Vladimir as he tried to understand the difference between dreams and truth.

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