Beckett's plays can be difficult to perform well, but fortunately this production boasts one of the foremost interpreters of the writer's work, Bill Irwin, a magnificent clown whose physical comedy can gravitate towards the metaphysical at times.
Irwin plays Clov (rhymes with stove), the hapless servant of the play's powerful but disabled Hamm, portrayed in this production by John Douglas Thompson, one of my favorite classical actors working in America today. Thompson has excelled in such plays as Tamburlaine, Julius Caesar, and The Father, so I was excited to see him in Endgame.
Of all of Beckett's works, Endgame might be the bleakest. While there is still comedy, the play isn't as uproariously funny as Waiting for Godot, which presents two remarkably sympathetic characters down on their luck. The sympathetic simpleton types get moved to the periphery in Endgame, where the two lovable rouges, Nagg and Nell, occupy ashbins (trashcans to us Americans) at the side of the stage.
Since Nagg and Nell are supposed to be older--and also don't have to move around the stage much--they provide an excellent opportunity to cast senior performers with a wealth of theatrical experience. Director Ciarán O’Reilly has done just that, bringing in Joe Grifasi to play Nagg and Patrice Johnson Chevannes to be Nell. They quickly charm the audience as soon as they emerge from their bins.
Most critics have interpreted the play to be about facing death, but the final line isn't about dying, but remaining, something that might indeed be a fate worse than death. A cheerful thought for a January evening!
The night I went, the house was packed, so if you want to see it, get your tickets soon.
