Definition of Absurd

Life is a contradiction.
Often a contradiction of a contradiction.

It’s full of pettiness we value and valuables we find petty, hope for faith and faith of hope, happiness in misery and misery in happiness. A tangled mess of forgetfulness, blindness and misguided consciousness, weaved with seeking that something we clearly can’t define, lying to ourselves and covering our doubts in childish, supposedly innocent joy and silliness. A neverending highway of inconvenience and pain inflicted upon our and other selves, conveniently patched with straw bridges, mindful shortcuts and undefined diversions. Orderly chaotic.

Today I had a pleasure of witnessing an attempt of 5 people condensing exactly that on a stage.

And it was the most wonderful, bittersweet allegory of humanity I’ve ever seen. Seemingly a hilarious comedy of absolutely nothing happening, yet taking my mind to places not many other plays or movies managed to do over the last few years. Hell, I caught myself wondering off in thoughts and losing several moments of the dialog! Which then turned out to be the exact reflection of what was portrayed on stage.

There was no standing ovation. Nobody cried. And yet I can swear to you right here and right now that it was truly the most powerful cocktail of expression of this decade. At least for me.

Directed by Andrew Upton, a fine cast of Richard Roxburgh, Hugo Weaving, Philip Quast, Luke Mullins and young boy (name of whose I cannot find) delivered a masterpiece of complexities masquerading in simplicity.

With minimal stage design and barely any props they managed to channel my focus exactly where it should be. Or perhaps was it my mind playing tricks on me, making me focusing on what it found relevant, not what I actually wanted to focus on? Perhaps.

Whatever it may be it’s yet another phenomenal performance by Sydney Theatre Company. Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot is one play anyone should see and ponder about.

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