The Gate Theatre in Dublin opened Waiting for Godot on the exact 50th anniversary of the play’s original performance on a tiny stage in Paris. It was a remarkable production, and the best theatre I’ve seen in years. Godot seems to encompass the entire twentieth century in two hours…it humbles every other twentieth-century play I can think of. The other thing that I didn’t recognize about the play (having only read it and seen bits of it previously) was how very Irish it is. Its language, its cadences and characters seem to me, now that I’ve lived here a couple of years, totally familiar.
Estragon: Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let’s go.
Vladimir: We can’t.
Estragon: Why not?
Vladimir: We’re waiting for Godot.