At the start of Waiting for Godot, I did a lot of waiting myself– waiting for the play to develop more action, waiting for the play to become more exciting, waiting for the play to start making more sense. I admit to being tired (initially) by the repetitive dialogue and the lack of structure. However, as the play unfolded, it started to become something more than I had expected. The two old men in ragged clothing, waiting by a lonely tree for a man called Godot, soon had their musings interrupted by the entrance of a slave and his master. The moment that Lucky and Pozzo stumbled onto the stage and into the lives of Vladimir and Estragon, things started to get more complex and more interesting. The four characters interacted with each other in hilarious and slightly horrifying ways. Lucky, the unlucky slave, was mistreated horrendously while the master Pozzo was respected and sympathized with. Vladimir and Estragon tried to hang themselves, but were short a good piece of strong rope. Every character forgot each other and the events that had taken place the previous day, except for Vladimir who was left alone in his frustrated understanding that every day was a cycle and was a cycle that would never end. Ironically, this was in large part his own doing, as he would always insist that they try again the next day, clinging on to a little bit of hope (as he insists if Godot comes they will be saved). “I can’t go on, I will go on.”

The play was inherently frustrating. It was difficult to understand all of the messages. It was tedious to hear the same lines repeated again and again. And at the ending, after waiting for Godot for an unknowable period of time– the play seems to suggest that the main characters have been waiting for him for so many days that it has become the sum of their existences– they decide to wait yet another day. It made me want to scream a little. However, for me, it was the play’s contrasting blend of absurd comedy and bleak hopelessness that made it something worth watching. And even as I experienced confusion and frustration with the shrouded meaning of the play and the cryptic dialogue, I saw my emotions reflected in the almost constant confusion and frustration of the characters, as they waited senselessly with no end in sight.

Waiting for Godot was anything but typical. It was intriguing and annoying. It was boring and yet roused my emotions. As soon as I got home I felt relief and yet while trying to fall asleep I couldn’t stop thinking about all the characters.