It's good occasionally to remind ourselves that Samuel Beckett wrote "Waiting for Godot" in a specific time and place -- the blood-soaked soil of postwar Europe. His protagonists, Vladimir and Estragon, are not abstract mouthpieces. They represent real people who have nothing left but each other.
Director Bain Boehlke's "Godot," which opened Friday at the Jungle Theater, stays grounded in the symbiosis of Beckett's two tramps. Actors Jim Lichtscheidl and Nathan Keepers spare none of the antic fun that are staples of "Godot" productions. But ultimately, we walk away caring for Didi and Gogo -- hoping they will be OK and that the world will notice them.
"Tell him that you saw us," says Lichtscheidl's Vladimir to the boy sent from Mr. Godot. "You did see us."
Lichtscheidl's eyes flood with the desperation of a man who wants simply to be noticed -- much as Arthur Miller asked that "attention must be paid" to Willy Loman.
Lichtscheidl's Vladimir is the caretaker, making sure Nathan Keepers' grouchier Estragon gets fed when hungry and gets sleep when weary. Keepers puts a jaundiced edge on Estragon, but his dedication to Vladimir is assumed, even when the two argue or poke fun.
"Don't touch me, don't speak to me. Stay with me." Is it love, or the comfort of a 50-year relationship? Either way, these two depend on each other.
Oh, and they talk, and talk and talk. Meaninglessness means nothing; talking about meaningless gives it meaning. It becomes a testament.
As Vladimir and Estragon while away an evening, Allen Hamilton's brutish Pozzo, bellows into the twilight with his emaciated slave, Lucky. Charles Schuminski pants like a dying dog, appearing to have one foot in the grave.