Endgame (Flabbergast Theatre, EICC) is Samuel Beckett’s existential masterpiece, written after he had nursed his brother, who was dying of lung cancer, and in a period after Waiting for Godot, where he found it difficult to write anything at all. So far, so seemingly depressing, but actually Endgame demonstrates the possibility of absurdist black humour even in a play which is clearly representing tragic circumstances.
There are academics far better qualified than I to hypothesise about Endgame, but suffice to say the title is significant, as it denotes the end stage of a game of chess where it will either end in checkmate or stalemate. The play deals with that moment before the end, when the lights go out and it’s all over, and fittingly begins with the line: “Finished, it’s finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished.” Nothing really happens in the play and yet so much is demonstrated through the reliance on routines, the relationships between the four characters and the repetitive nature of words and actions.
Endgame in this production is very physical, despite the fact that none of the characters have much, if any, mobility. Clov is the only one who can move round unaided and even then with difficulty. And he cannot sit down. Hamm is wheelchair-bound, and the wheels are literally and metaphorically falling off, and can only move when Clov pushes his chair around. Hamm’s parents Nagg and Nell have no legs and are confined to a dustbin each.
Clov may or may not be Hamm’s son, but whatever the relationship, they are bound to one another. Hamm needs Clov to fetch and carry for him and Clov needs Hamm because Hamm has the combination to the lock on the pantry of fast-dwindling food stocks. Hamm also relies on Clov to divvy out his painkillers.
Existentialism is in every thought and deed. The set is proscribed clearly by Beckett and though each production interprets it slightly differently, it’s basically Hamm in the dead centre of a pretty spartan space, with two windows high up, one facing the town and one the sea, a scullery to one side and the two dustbin ‘homes’ of Nagg and Nell to the other. It may be post-apocalyptic, but the audience is never quite sure. Even what they wear is pretty much proscribed by Beckett too.
In thought, the characters wonder constantly why they keep on repeating what they have been doing for so long, when it appears to bring no benefit or respite. They ask one another why they don’t do something different. There is no real answer, except perhaps inevitability and the inability to see any other option. In deed, everything points to their ultimate demise, as they are running out of provisions as well as ideas.
So where is the humour in all of this bleakness? It’s there right from the start actually. The whole set-up is absurd. Henry Maynard’s Hamm is hidden under a blanket and Clov, brilliantly played by Simon Gleave, is all facial expression and mime-like actions. This is clowning at its absolute best. The play is short and so getting the audience on board from the start really helps and Clov’s repeated mistakes and forgetfulness are endearing as well as funny. The ‘legless’ parents, played by Derek Elwood and Annabel Arden, should not be funny at all, but they really are and are in fact presented a bit like Punch and Judy puppets, though without the violence, in their separate bins, trying to bring some joy to one another through reminiscence. Once unveiled, Hamm is irascible and domineering, ordering Clov about and shouting at him and having seemingly little time or affection for his parents. But he is witty at times and has some good one-liners.
So yes, the message may be bleak but the production is not. The end, death, is inevitable, but my take on the play is one of ‘carpe diem’ and making the most of what we’ve got, rather than ending life stultified and going round in ever-decreasing circles. Ever the optimist.
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