Samuel Beckett sets his seminal 1953 absurdist tragicomedy aside a country road, where nothing grows but a single tree—which may be dead. Vladimir and Estragon, the Chaplinesque tramps who’ve waited here for days, or maybe years, for the ever-deferred arrival of the unknowable savior Mr. Godot, have never encountered anyone, save the buffoonish windbag Pozzo, who allegedly owns the land, and his mostly silent servant Lucky. There’s nothing to do but wait, and nothing to eat but a few stray root vegetables Estragon digs out of his pockets. Wherever they’re supposed to be, it’s clear they’re in the middle of nowhere.
This inattentiveness to detail mars the production in myriad ways, most crucially in the relationship between Estragon and Vladimir. The two men have been together for at least 50 years, yet here they seem relative strangers. That’s mostly because Parson allows Alfred H. Wilson as Estragon and Allen Gilmore as Vladimir to adopt diametrically opposed acting styles. Gilmore is highly animated, hyperarticulate and deeply engaged with the script’s underpinnings. With his rubbery physicality, exacting diction, and infinitely mournful eyes, he’s an exuberant combination of Richard Pryor and Stan Laurel. Wilson, on the other hand, wanders haphazardly through his role, glossing over important details, largely disengaged with anything below the surface of the text. The actors appear to be in two different plays.
Through 2/15: Wed-Thu 7:30 PM, Fri 8 PM, Sat 3 and 8 PM, Sun 2:30 and 7:30 PMCourt Theatre 5535 S. Ellis 773-753-4472courttheatre.org $45-$65
