A Samuel Becket play. Having heard and read about 'waiting for godot' all these years, and having just missed that one a while back, I was quite keen to catch this.
It was quite interesting. Definitely heavy going, its something called the theatre of the absurd I gather, but interesting nevertheless. I'm sure it was in no small measure due to the excellant acting.
The performance consists of a strident, hell bent optimism of a woman buried waist down in a sort of sand mound. She fights off the horror of the situation, warding off the depression with straws -rituals, platitudes, memories and the plaintive cries to her husband, who's somewhere around, and sometimes answers in monosyllables, and sometimes, many times, does not.
Its the sort of play, that leaves you to ponder over your own straitjackets and burdens. Do we ignore the absudities? Do we 'thank our lucky stars'? Can we really fight , and should we? What is the nature of the relationship with the spouse? How far does the religious crutch carry us? And is life really empty and meaningless? There was a short discussion after the play with the 2 actors, which was interesting, reminded me a bit of english classes long long ago, ( Luckily I always had good english teachers. )
All in all , worth a watch, but be prepared for the rather heavy going.