Wednesday, March 27, 2019

Lucky's Speech

It was years—decades even—from the time I first read Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot before seeing a production of it. In that time, and really since the beginning, I was fascinated with Lucky's speech, which still seems to me to be the climax of Act One. If you remove all the repetition from the play, then all that remains would be Lucky's speech and Pozzo's downfall.

In every production I have seen, Lucky’s speech, which Beckett calls a tirade, comes across as just that. It’s a wordy outburst that unfortunately loses much of its connotative meaning when delivered onstage, no matter who the actor is. Seeing productions of Godot, then, will always disappoint when compared to reading the script.


Lost is much of the bodily humor (the double caca of “Acacacacademy,” scholarly citations by “Fartov and Belcher”) as well as the philosophical content, which includes allusions to Descartes’ res extensa, the defective Latin “Essy-in-Possy” misquoted from Kant (esse-in-posse, or existence as a possibility or having the potential to exist), and the direct reference to Bishop (and philosopher George) Berkeley.

Certain lines from the tirade (“… what is more much more grave that in the light of the labors lost of Steinweg and Peterman it appears what is more much more grave that in the light the light the light of the labors lost of Steinweg and Peterman …”) easily resonates with Pozzo’s gloomy lines at the end of his scene in Act Two: “They give birth [read: “labors”] astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.” It is as if Lucky can either see the future or has the ability to correctly discern the present.

If I were to direct a production of Waiting for Godot, I think I would have Lucky speak more slowly. Other than the word "tirade," there is nothing in Beckett's stage directions that mandates how quickly the lines are delivered. And "tirade" can just as easily be much more methodical. Imagine if Lucky were presenting his findings at an academic conference. Or imagine Lucky as Hitler espousing not racist ideology but existential truths. What if Lucky were simply rallying all of humanity to his cause? How would that scene play differently? Would the speech's content finally be allowed to come through?

And spare me that bullshit "insight" that because it's "postmodern" it's not supposed to have any inherent meaning. That's fucking bullshit, and we all know it. If anything, theories of postmodernity show that the speech's meaning is located specifically within its dislocated meanings. The quaquaquaqua has meaning as both Heideggerian Als-Struktur and the quacking of a duck. What better way to honor Beckett and his "misnamed" Lucky, who, according to the play, is both capable of thinking even while remaining dumb?

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