Nothing happens, there is nothing to be done, they do not come, they do not go, maybe they'll hang themselves from boredom but always tomorrow. ( )

This is one of those plays that is really famous and I kind of knew it was about two guys hanging around waiting for Godot...but I had never read it or seen a live performance ...and have no desire really now.....after reading it....to see a live performance. My superficial take on it is much as one of the early critics wrote: it's a play about nothing where nothing happens over the 90 min of the play. Must confess, that I was rather bored. OK Maybe I'm not understanding it so I'll go a read a couple of critiques and analyses and see if that improved my temper. Well, I've read a couple of reviews etc and the consensus seems to be that It was produced in 1953 in France (also written originally in French) when France was still recovering from the chaos and desolation of WW II. And Estragon and Vladimir, the two main characters, are elderly tramps with very little in their lives, hungry, homeless, cold, and they are waiting for Godot...the authority figure...who presumably will either make everything ok or give them some direction. Some suggest that this is like the Government...remote...promising but never delivering. The play is part of the theatre of the absurd movement and, I guess the best I can say for this is that it forces the audience to use their imaginations and, presumably, everyone will have a different take on the play depending on their own experiences and how they relate these to the play itself. I recall writing a play myself and having it produced by others who proceeded to tell me what certain parts of the play were REALLY about. And that, even if I meant something else, there was a deeper meaning that I had not grasped. Well...I'm not really impressed. And I think "Waiting for Godot" is similar ....setting itself up for multiple interpretations and posing as being very deep. Now, clearly this puts me at odds with many drama critics who consider this play to be one of the most important works of the 20th century. Well they are entitled to their opinions but I remain to be impressed. One star from me. ( )

Samuel Beckett is like the John Cage of literature; their work can be looked at as either absurdly intricate or blatantly daft, which as a result, causes a lot of contentions for the ostentatious critics and breezy consumers alike. I'm personally very much on the fence when it comes to minimalism in general; there's a point where I have to draw the line and say this is too much. Fortunately for Beckett, he falls comfortably on the side of brilliance for this work alone and deserves his leather armchair in Irish heaven amongst the likes of Joyce and Yeats. ( )

It passes the time. ( )

Three persons are awaiting the arrival of a fourth. He doesn't show up. Various theological and philosophic questions are aired. The audience is left to make what sense of it that they can. ( )