Endgame

This, the second Beckett foray into the West End in a matter of months, was clearly going to the one of the theatrical events of the year. The paparazzi hovering outside the theatre instantly marked this as an out-of-the-ordinary evening – and it’s not often that a Beckett play is thus heralded. But then the combination of a Matthew Warchus production and the return to the London stage of Michael Gambon alongside comedian Lee Evans had the cognoscenti slavering at the chops.

Endgame centres on the relationship of four people: the blind Hamm (who can’t stand up), the crippled Clov (who can’t sit down) and Hamm’s parents, Nell and Nagg (who are even more constrained). It’s often categorised as the Beckett play with the dustbins: a reference to Nell and Nagg’s habitation. The play itself shows the four characters going through the motions of another day as they wait for the inevitable end of the world.

Not exactly a heap of laughs but, as in all Beckett plays, this is drama rich in humour, with dialogue reminiscent of a music-hall act. Warchus seizes on this in this new production. Indeed, even before the performance begins, everything is geared towards transporting us back to a seedy variety venue: from the typeface in the programme to the tatty stage curtain and the tinkling piano music.

Even if the music-hall metaphor is a bit laboured at times, it’s clear that Warchus has grasped the essential comic absurdity of the play and, more crucially, that the actors more than live up to the vision.

The casting of Lee Evans as Clov, Hamm’s manservant (or possibly son) is on one level a masterstroke. This extraordinarily physical actor-comedian extracts every possible laugh out of the character – his shambling, stiff-legged gait, coupled with his attempts to climb a stepladder, verging on genius.

His capers, a show in their own right, could run the danger of overshadowing his co-stars but, even from a sedentary position, Michael Gambon exudes a commanding presence. His voice, rich as Dublin oyster and Guinness, mixes testiness and vulnerability in equal measure. He tries to bark defiance as he nears his finale, but he can never truly mask despair. His is a truly bravura performance.

The cast is completed by those excellent character actors, Geoffrey Hutchings and Liz Smith as the double act of Nagg and Nell. Their gurning faces poking out of the dustbins like a pair of white-faced Messerschmidt sculptures provides an abiding image of the evening.

Above all, though, this Endgame reminds us that Beckett remains the master of the absurd. While his unrelentingly bleak vision of the hopelessness of human existence might not be to everyone’s taste, it can’t be denied that the late, great Irish playwright has a true feel for the theatre and a rich ear for dialogue. His vision has been well-served by this magnificent cast.

– Maxwell Cooter