These last few weeks have been a major three-part treat for Samuel Beckett partisans. Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter opened on Broadway in the latest Waiting for Godot revival, that work arguably the best play written in the 20th century. Next, Stephen Rea took on the solo role in Krapp’s Last Tape at the Skirball Center. Now Galway’s Druid company, led by artistic director Garry Hynes, is at the Irish Arts Center with Hynes’ take on Beckett’s Endgame.
As comparisons are supposedly odious, none will be made here as to the varying successes of the three, other than to say they each had notably strong aspects. Instead, it is more cogent to say that the three come from Beckett’s most powerful—no, most astonishing—playwriting years, and this is a welcome opportunity for fans to revisit them or for new fans to be exposed to their strengths.
Yes, imagine his creative surge from 1952 to 1958. Waiting for Godot, written in 1955 (in French—En Attendant Godot, translated into English by Beckett) was first seen in 1955, on Broadway in 1956. The masterpiece was followed in 1957 by Endgame and in 1958 by Krapp’s Last Tape.
Quite a creative spurt. And when viewed so close to each other their similarities, their reverberations, their echoes are even stronger. Indeed, comparisons here are not at all odious. They’re testaments to Beckett’s compulsively grand grappling with the troubled, roiling human condition.
The Hynes Endgame is flawless. In it blind Hamm (Rory Nolan), who nonetheless wipes his spectacles when first fully revealed, is waited on hand and foot by son Clov (Aaron Monaghan). Hamm’s father Nagg (Bosco Hogan) and mother Nell (Marie Mullen) both reside to his right in matching trash cans, occasionally popping their ghostly heads out.
It could be that Hynes’s direction is as carefully studied as it is because Beckett insists it must be just so, and the Beckett estate usually monitors productions stringently. (How has Jamie Lloyd’s current Godot production gotten away with the extreme liberties taken there?) Aside from George Bernard Shaw, Beckett’s stage directions may be the most steadfastly specific of any playwright. (Shakespeare wasn’t so determined, despite his famous “Exeunt, pursued by a bear.”) This is how, only in less than a quarter of its length, Clov begins the Endgame action according to Beckett’s strict demands:
“Clov goes and stands under window left. Stiff, staggering walk. He looks up at window left. He turns and looks at window right. He goes and stands under window right. He looks up at window right. He turns and looks at window left. He goes out, comes back immediately with a small stepladder, carries it over and sets it down under window left, gets up on it, draws back curtain.”
Through Endgame, the title hardly obscures the inevitability of death and how its increasingly imminent approach affects the diminishing quality of life, its potential absurdity. (Remember the then-regularly discussed “Theater of the Absurd.”) Hamm and Clov constantly spar so that when Nagg appears suddenly, Hamm tells Clov to sit on the trash can’s lid, this subsequent exchange ensues:
Hamm: Sit on him.
Clov: I can’t sit.
Hamm: True. And I can’t stand.
Clov: So it is.
Hamm: Every man has his specialty.
And so it goes—Beckett’s humor enriching—with all four actors bringing Beckett’s death disquisition to piercing life on set and costumer Francis O’Connor’s deathly, large grey high-ceiling room. The more the absurdist patter unfolds, the more the resemblance increases between Endgame and Waiting for Godot.
Evidence steadily mounts that Beckett was still fixed on the same conflicting interpersonal relationships, the same communication challenges, the same focus on dashed expectations, on the adversarial connections between death and life.
Only a few of the many coincidences? Both have two men chafing at their proximity but remaining together despite the recurring animosity. Both plays have four central characters, two regularly interrupting: Estragon, Vladimir, Pozzo, Lucky of the Godot dramatic personae (a boy is present twice but only briefly); Hamm and Clov of Endgame.
In Endgame and Krapp’s Last Tape the setting requires a door through which Clov and Krapp continually trudge to obtain significant props, Krapp bringing out his tapes and player, Clov the odd item. A light shines at the far end of the corridors leading to an unseen room, suggesting a brighter atmosphere.
By the time Endgame concludes—especially when these three Beckettian exercises are viewed in such quick succession—it’s difficult not to believe that the master playwright was engaged in his own impulsive endgame, one that must be witnessed, appreciated, revered—always keeping in mind that Endgame helmer Hynes is the first women to snag a Tony for direction (The Beauty Queen of Leenane).
Final word: How did Beckett himself end? He’s buried in Paris’ Montparnasse Cemetery, his grave marked by a flat stone slab. That’s the organic Beckett. There’s no end in sight to his legacy.
Endgame opened October 26, 2025, at the Irish Arts Center and runs through November 23. Tickets and information: irishartscenter.org
