1) In the words of Didi from Waiting For Godot, "Habit is a great deadener" (2.795)—which is why your morning routine has basically become as immovable as petrified wood and as forgettable as... well, as a morning routine.
And dang if those same Big Three Existentialist tenets don't pop up in Waiting For Godot. This is, after all, a play about Didi and Gogo, who wait every. single. day. for a guy named Godot to arrive (hence the "great deadener" bit). This is a play about guys who can't the fact that they don't have to wait for Godot (they think they have no choice). And, finally, Waiting For Godot makes us uncomfortably aware about the very thin line that separates the normal (say, taking off your shoes) and the absurd (say, taking off your shoes multiple times in a row).
. . . In . . . silences are an undercurrent of every dramatic situation, but they become a pattern of gaps almost visible to the audience when the messenger from Godot arrives for the second time. . . . The
Though I want love and will continue the search, Waiting for Godot nevertheless spoke to me then as it speaks to me now: I shall take control of my own struggle through life no matter how bewildering and incomprehensible it, the world, and the universe may be.
He keeps Vladimir and Estragon from taking action, strands the theme in an unending wait for supernatural meaning, and restricts the characters' development by keeping their thoughts turned towards the always-impendi...
While waiting for Godot, Vladimir and Estragon experience the flow of time “in its purest most evident form” (Esslin 31), which means, ironically, that time is hardly present, as Becket shows that none of the characters ever actually knows how much time has passed.
Stark barren surroundings and perpetual loneliness are the only gift, in Beckett's mind, when one waits for a supernatural being who does not deign to visit mere mortals.
When Vladimir and Estragon return to the tree where they are supposed to wait for Godot, Vladimir insists that both he and Estragon were there the day before and tells Estragon, “But we were there together, I could swear it!” (68).
. . . There is no development in Becketts plays because, according to him, development is impossible. Any indications of it are illusory. This is why the total action of his plays goes not farther than the basic situation. Both action and situation can be summed up in the same present participle: two tramps waiting for a Messiah; a master and his servant waiting for the end; . . . The preoccupation with time is constantit would be hard to count the number of times that the word "time" is mentioned in . . . . In fact thatis exactly what
Like the clowns, we work, even if it be waiting in our seats; The actors do likewise onstage, held there by convictions as characters (they have been told to wait) or as actors (it is their rôle). In this dual partnership of actor and audience, both depending on the other for their present existence, we collectively establish an artifice against an imposed Godot-ruled world, against the difficult, at times incomprehensible reality that for them is "" and for us all that lies outside as well as inside the theatre.
But the similarities don't stop there. Dive right in and wait for Godot alongside Didi and Gogo and you'll end up taking a long, hard, hilarious, absurd, ridiculous, depressing, and thought-provoking look in the mirror.
. . . by Act II, the dark questions of who is Godot and will he come give way to the human instinct for survival, to that creative urge which will fashion something out of nothing, which will snatch from impending defeat (such as the nonappearance of the divinity) a modest victory (passing the time with dialogue, putting the events of Act I in some sort of order, albeit minimal). is not a romantic play, but it realistic. It is not about death, not about suicide. To wait or to go onthese are actions, not nonactions; and waiting and going on are the two alternatives to death. Vladimir and Estragon ; they do not go on. Pozzo and Lucky go on, and they disappear, accordingly and appropriately, from the present play. The clowns stay with us, both to and at the end: "". We are also the clowns, for in our seats we have done no more, nor no less, than Vladimir and Estragon. Like us, they speculate about the meaning of the play. For them, as for us, the play, even in the absence of meaning, is a way of passing time, though time would have passed anyway, as Estragon observes.
If oneis always waiting for something to happen, the periods during that waitend up being meaningless, and, if the event finally does happen, theprocess repeats itself.
We share the same anxieties, though however aware they may be of the audience the tramps cannot know this. If there is no Godot to witness and ratify their actions, are there, the "Godot" for whom they have waited. Without us their audience shrinks to one, Estragon for Vladimir, Vladimir for Estragon. The two other spectators are a sorry lot, mute and egotistical. Again, they are not there at the end as we are. Vladimir is right, albeit a bit melodramatic, when he raises the idea that all one can say of his life is "that with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot". "Waited"he uses the word as a slur, as if the time spent were nothing but a bag of actors tricks; and it is, . In the absence of anything elseand Vladimir cannot imagine that we as audience both ratify and interpret his stage "life"to have waited is to have lived, . . .