endgame - samuel beckett

CLOV (fixed gaze, tonelessly):

Finished, it's finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished.
(Pause.)
Grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly, there's a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap.
(Pause.)
I can't be punished any more.
(Pause.)
I'll go now to my kitchen, ten feet by ten feet by ten feet, and wait for him to whistle me.
(Pause.)
Nice dimensions, nice proportions, I'll lean on the table, and look at the wall, and wait for him to whistle me.
(He remains a moment motionless, then goes out. He comes back immediately, goes to window right, takes up the ladder and carries it out. Pause. Hamm stirs. He yawns under the handkerchief. He removes the handkerchief from his face. Very red face. Glasses with black lenses.)

HAMM:

Me -
(he yawns)
- to play.
(He takes off his glasses, wipes his eyes, his face, the glasses, puts them on again, folds the handkerchief and puts it back neatly in the breast pocket of his dressing gown. He clears his throat, joins the tips of his fingers.)
Can there be misery -
(he yawns)
- loftier than mine? No doubt. Formerly. But now?
(Pause.)
My father?
(Pause.)
My mother?
(Pause.)
My... dog?
(Pause.)
Oh I am willing to believe they suffer as much as such creatures can suffer. But does that mean their sufferings equal mine? No doubt.
(Pause.)
No, all is a-
(he yawns)
-bsolute,
(proudly)
the bigger a man is the fuller he is.
(Pause. Gloomily.)
And the emptier.
(He sniffs.)
Clov!
(Pause.)
No, alone.
(Pause.)
What dreams! Those forests!
(Pause.)
Enough, it's time it ended, in the shelter, too.
(Pause.)
And yet I hesitate, I hesitate to... to end. Yes, there it is, it's time it ended and yet I hesitate to-—
(He yawns.)
-to end.
(Yawns.)
God, I'm tired, I'd be better off in bed.
(He whistles. Enter Clov immediately. He halts beside the chair.)
You pollute the air!
(Pause.)
Get me ready, I'm going to bed.

.....

I have always found Beckett humorous. The bleak and minimal nature of the work only serves to heighten the ludicrous nature of the linguistic see-sawing in which his characters engage. It is this verbal rumination that ultimately leads to an understanding of the ritualistic nature of our small talk.

I prefer Endgame over the more famous, Waiting for Godot, and find in it more meaning and humour. The opening exchange, above, between Clov and Hamm is a taste of what the full play contains and I encourage people to read/see Beckett's plays. He is accessible and universal, there are no obtruse literary allusions. All the reader/theatre goer needs to do is listen. Listen real carefully and then you will begin to hear the rhythms emerge.

Next year this play will be 50 years old and yet I know of no other play that is so thouroughly modern.

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endgame