Waiting for Godot is a playful and unpretentious season opener for Coal Mine Theatre. Directed by Kelli Fox, this production embraces the bodily sensibilities of Beckett’s dark humour, grounding his abstract poetics in the kidneys, the feet, and the dirt.
You likely know Waiting for Godot, but I’ll recap it anyway. It starts with “A country road. A tree. / Evening.” Vladimir (Alexander Thomas) and Estragon (Ted Dykstra) wait. Wondering what happens from there? That’s Beckett’s question, too. If you write, you’ll certainly relate to Godot’s anxious commentary on its own action, as Vladimir and Estragon seek something to do. Great, something happened! But — oh god — now something needs to happen again? And again? And again?
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves (we have the time). We were at the country road and the tree. Scott Penner’s set design is one of the first delights of this production. In Coal Mine’s intimate basement space, the stage is covered by a thick layer of dirt. The tree, appropriately abject, has a gnarled, clawing posture, and three painted walls resemble a blue sky with clouds. The walls aren’t trying very hard to be the sky, however, seeing how there’s a purposeful gap between each panel.
Fox, in her director’s note, references her impulse to “just get out of [Beckett’s] way.” Still, she and her team have obviously made choices and I think they’re good ones. Penner’s design resonated for me on two levels. First, there’s the grime. It coats the actors. Just watching them, you can feel the dirt chafing their armpits and furring their lips. It has stained their clothing with red and brown streaks (costume design by Ming Wong). The world of Godot is dirty and weary and uncomfortable. That’s what makes the sky so beautiful — and so tempting as a subject for trite poetry about twilight, as in the comically bombastic monologue delivered by Pozzo (Jim Mezon), a travelling character who enters with his slave, Lucky (Simon Bracken).
The second level is a bit more abstract. I was reminded of a child’s sandbox, where play happens. We also use this word (especially in corporate speak) for environments without consequences. What a suitable setting for Vladimir and Estragon’s attempts to escape the unrelenting pressure of time. “We could play at Pozzo and Lucky,” Vladimir suggests in the second act. “I’ll do Lucky, you do Pozzo.”
Dykstra and Thomas play masterfully. They approach the script with a balance of irreverence and earnest hope. Sometimes they mean what they say, and sometimes they’re just saying. Dykstra’s dry delivery and vulnerable befuddlement felt particularly endearing, while Thomas’s more determined search for meaning (or just a good laugh) established a poignant counterpoint. The best part was watching the two toss the proverbial ball back and forth.
Another highlight was the physical comedy. At some point, Pozzo, Gogo, and Didi demand that Lucky perform a party trick called “thinking.” Here, the abused man launches into a winding syntax of philosophical thought, while the other characters try and fail to make him stop. “Not so fast!” Lucky shouts, as Pozzo creeps forward to take back his thinking cap (an example of how Fox’s production balances clarity and symbolism in its interpretation of Beckett’s cryptic dialogue — on the page, this line doesn’t necessarily speak to Lucky’s careful guarding of his fragile power). Pozzo, Vladimir, and Estragon then perform a chase sequence around the walls of the set, running in and out of doors, trying to grab Lucky’s hat so that he will finally shut up. It’s very funny. It’s very unsettling.
While the over-the-top physicality worked for me, I cannot say the same about the sound cues, designed by Michael Wanless. Sometimes, a bumping, clanging sound punctuated a character’s fall, whether it happened onstage or off (particularly in the second act, characters are frequently falling in the dirt, and crawling, and wallowing). The sound was never convincing, but unlike the painted panels of sky, I thought perhaps it was trying to be.
Under Fox’s direction, Godot makes sense. That’s not to say the mystery is gone. Only that what the characters are doing and saying lines up with what’s happening. If you’ve only encountered this play in a classroom, which is a good but sometimes limiting place for experiencing Beckett, this production will welcome you in. And if you’re already well-aquainted with Godot, you’ll hear a line that hits your ear with a new and wonderful clarity.
“You’re sure you saw me?” Vladimir asks Godot’s boy messenger (Kole Parks). “You won’t come and tell me tomorrow that you never saw me?” That was mine.
Waiting for Godot runs at Coal Mine Theatre until October 12. More information is available here.
Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.
WRITTEN BY
Ferron Delcy
Ferron Delcy is pursuing her PhD in early modern literature at the University of Toronto. In 2024, Ferron participated in the New Young Reviewers program facilitated by Toronto Fringe and Intermission. She is a big fan of ghost stories, fog machines, and weird metaphors.
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