Often times, a major complaint that comes up when a beloved novel or play is adapted into a film is that it isn’t faithful to the source material. Well, in the case of fans of Samuel Beckett, this has never
been a concern because of the simple fact that his plays are legally
required to be taken as strictly literal to the source material as
possible. Whole countries have had their Beckett privileges banned for
even the smallest change to Beckett’s visions, so it’s not surprise
that every production of his most famous work, Waiting for Godot,
has been treated with the utmost reverence. Every stage version has
remained intact in regards to faithfulness and quality, but the trick
is that every film version has never been able to do both. For some
reason, either they stray away far too much and resemble nothing of
Beckett’s text, or it is presented in a bland or inferior way to the
Beckett play. It’s safe to say that no film adaptation of the play has
every completely translated the play’s literary essence to the screen,
but there is one version that came close. naturally I’m referring to
2000’s adaptation of Waiting for Godot, which was collected among his other works in an anthology called Beckett on Film.
While I reiterate its failure to fully capture the majesty of the play,
I must admit that it is highly admirable and enjoyable effort.

Exactly like the original play, the film adaptation of Waiting for Godot centers around two characters with identical bowler hats: Vladimir (Barry McGovern) and Estragon (Johnny Murphy). These two companions with a
large penchant for repetition and amnesia, are waiting by a tree for a
man named Godot to show up; who will presumably give them something to
make their lives better. Godot never shows up however, and the two are
left in a position where they try to find ways to pass the time while
pondering their existence. Along the way, they are interrupted by the
arrival of a similar pair: Pozzo (Alan Stanford) and Lucky (Stephen
Brennan) as well as the messages of a young boy who updates them on
Godot’s status. However, ultimately the two are on their own as they
fritter away time waiting for a person who will never come and attempt
to assert their existence through repetition and dialogue about
nothing. That is all there when discussing this plot: one about nothing.

Now since this is a review solely based on the translation to film, I’m not going to critique the actual text itself, but I will start by saying that the performances from the two lead actors are amazing.
Barry McGovern and Johnny Murphy are able to take these relatively
limited characters with thousands of actors behind them and make them
their own. McGovern’s Vladimir is a strangely endearing tragic hero
stuck inside of a world without memory or time as he desperately
struggles for an existence that will never come. Murphy’s Estragon is a
perfect complement and provides that right balance of humor and
depression that makes his coupling with Vladimir a match made in
heaven. These performances are easily the best for the play I’ve seen
(although not as funny as Steve Martin and Robin Williams in the roles)
and are quite captivating throughout the entire thing. Also worthy of
note is the rest of the cast, which does a great job holding the entire
thing above water while remaining within the confine of Beckett’s
limitations.

A little more mixed but still admirable is the direction of the piece which does a competent job of staying to the minimalist roots of the play. The set is highly bleak and bland, providing a great allegory
for the themes of pessimistic existentialism that reek from the play.
There is no music and little visual distraction from the dialogue of
the characters, which is quite enthralling and exactly how it should
be. The problem however comes with the camera work. Now the
cinematography does a decent job of getting that stage feel as there
are relatively few angles and they are always focused on the
characters, but that’s the problem right there: they are ALWAYS focused
on the characters. The camera and direction presumes to tell us where
we should focus our eyes with the over-usage of close-ups and
establishing shots that really dampens the entire theatrical
experience. Also, the camera work at times can be a little over-bearing
with these shots, as everything else can be shut out and framed
according to what the director wanted. It’s not a huge detriment but it
is still annoying nonetheless.

All this aside though, is a really well-done adaptation and one worth seeing. A full adaptation of Beckett’s masterpiece may be impossible, but this is certainly a step in the right direction.