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STAGE REVIEW : A Rewarding Wait for ‘Godot’ at Old Globe

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Let us not waste our time in idle discourse, says Vladimir in Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot.”

The joke’s on him, of course, for he and his partner Estragon can do little else except “waste their time in idle discourse” as they wait for Godot.

The first challenge in any production of “Godot” is to seduce the members of the audience into believing that they are not wasting their time by listening to the idle discourse of these two lonely tramps on their Godot-forsaken country road.

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Andrew J. Traister’s staging at the Old Globe’s Cassius Carter Centre Stage succeeds at this magnificently for most of its two hours-plus. No one could accuse this “Godot” of being arid or airless. This is an audience show.

And it’s not just for audiences who appreciate irony. For example, while the irony of the “idle discourse” line drew a hefty laugh on opening night, the absolute stillness of the audience during the “long silences” that follow a second-act exchange about the voices of the dead was an even stronger piece of evidence that this “Godot” was connecting, that the discourse really didn’t seem so idle after all.

Jonathan McMurtry’s Vladimir and Richard Easton’s Estragon are intensely human. Despite the hopelessness of their situation, they embrace each other with infectious warmth. They take genuine pleasure in each other’s eccentricities, even in each other’s ability to bicker in return.

Vladimir is the philosopher prince of “Godot,” and McMurtry wraps his voice around Vladimir’s attempts to justify his actions and non-actions, as if he has all the time in the world--which, in a way, he does. But when Estragon goes away for the night or even tries to take a nap, impatience suddenly rears its head within this Vladimir. The corners of his puffy eyes betray his fear.

That fear is much more apparent in Easton’s Estragon, as is every other emotion. This is a hungry and tired man, with an appropriately lean look, but he’s also one whose eyes light up at any sign of change, no matter how pathetic.

The two tramps’ primary visitors are the slave driver Pozzo and his slave Lucky, and Jeffrey Allan Chandler and Richard Kneeland are sensationally theatrical in these wonderfully showy roles.

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Chandler’s Pozzo preens and preaches and throws bones at everyone in his path. Even when he is blind, in the second act, his railing at his fate retains a sense of command.

Kneeland’s Lucky, by contrast, is a shambles--florid-faced, trembling, with a rush of white hair that descends halfway down his back. As he hoists Pozzo’s bags or does his wretched little dance for the benefit of the others, he looks as if he may have a heart attack at any moment.

Kyle Wares plays the young boy who brings messages from Godot with a fine deadpan.

Traister’s arena staging only occasionally results in blocked sight lines (at least from the quarter of the audience where I sat), and the compensation is that every seat in the house is close to the heart of the non-action.

The arena configuration also adds to the impression that Vladimir and Estragon are literally going in circles, that they will never escape this desolated way station. When they try to escape, or simply to avoid the more unpleasant aspects of their encounter with Pozzo and Lucky, the short aisles quickly put a stop to their efforts.

The design--by Cliff Faulkner (sets), Shigeru Yaji (costumes) and John B. Forbes (lights)--carefully observes Beckett’s directions.

But there are a few too many mixed signals indicating where this way station is. Pozzo pronounces schedule in the British style, and Easton maintains a slight British accent throughout. Yet it sounded as if Vladimir referred to a past experience picking grapes in the Napa Country (the text says Macon Country). The references should either be consistent or else completely neutral.

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The momentum of the second act occasionally flags, but this isn’t surprising--in fact, it’s part of the point of the play. As Vladimir says, “habit is a great deadener.” Yet it’s indicative of the strength of the play that this line occurs in a speech that more or less brings the play to a climax, as Vladimir’s resolve begins to crack.

Habit may deaden, but this production makes sure that “Godot” remains alive.

At the Simon Edison Centre for the Performing Arts, Balboa Park, San Diego, Tuesdays through Sundays at 8 p.m., Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2 p.m., through Aug. 20. Tickets: $14-$25; (619) 239-2255.

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