Waiting for Godot

A play in which two men wait by a tree for a man named Godot they think will better their fortune. And talk.



That's it, really, as far as plot goes.


Except, of course, that Vladimir and Estragon--our protagonists--are implied to be waiting for him every day. They're not sure if they're at the right place, they're not sure if they've got the time right, they're not even sure who Godot is. But they wait, nevertheless.


Incredibly funny, and with long bouts of conversation and nonsense. However, read deeper and there's clearly something else going on here. This is a story of fate, of optimism versus pessimism, of the endless tedium of it all, about challenging the way we perceive the world, about mixing things up on occasion, all depending on how you read it. We know nothing about these characters outside of the two days we spend with them, and they're wide open for interpretation, especially because the author--Samuel Beckett--won't let on anything besides the fact that Godot is not a metaphor for God and the play for faith. (He later remarked that he regretted naming the titular character as such.)


So yeah, sure, this could be about a man and his Alzheimer's-riddled friend sitting by a tree talking about how disgusting carrots are and whether or not Jesus saved a repentant thief before his crucifixion. But I--and anyone who's reviewed this thing--think there's something deeper here. This play is like a treasure chest--the outside's cool to look at, but opening it up is the great part.