Aaron Monaghan (left) plays Clov and Rory Nolan is Hamm in Druid Theatre’s revival of Samuel Beckett’s tragicomic masterpiece Endgame, currently running at the Irish Arts Center.
“You’re on earth, there’s no cure for that!” The sentiment, bellowed by Hamm to his servant Clov in the Druid Theatre’s revival of Samuel Beckett’s postapocalyptic Endgame, is freshly relatable to a U.S. audience. Under Garry Hynes’s direction, this Endgame is full of laughs—both she and the ensemble fully grasp the idea expressed by Hamm’s trash-bin-residing mother, Nell, that “nothing is funnier than unhappiness”—but it achieves this tone by leaning into, rather than shying away from, the play’s relentless bleakness.
On a brutalist, monumental set designed by Francis O’Connor, with two high, circular windows, sits Hamm (Rory Nolan) with a bloody handkerchief (his “old stancher!”) over his face, as his hobbled servant Clov (Aaron Monaghan) goes through a Chaplin-like routine of moving a stepladder beneath each window to look out at what is essentially vast nothingness.
Hamm’s parents, Nagg (Bosco Hogan, left) and Nell (Marie Mullen), emerge briefly from the trash bins in which they reside.
Hamm is blind and ailing, though asked if he bled while sleeping he declares, “Less.” Clov’s legs keep him in anguish, and Monaghan moves with a jerky, arthritic shuffle. But pain and decay are the standard order in this universe. What has happened or is happening? The dialogue only cryptically gives hints. It’s clear many things that used to exist no longer do: “Are there still rats?” “There are no more bicycle-wheels.” “There’s no more nature.” “There’s no more tide.” “There are no more coffins.” And so on.
In answer to Hamm’s forlorn “What’s happening, what’s happening?” Clov replies with what becomes his refrain: “Something is taking its course.” Hamm has his own mantra, invoking the chess metaphor of the title but also a flair for theatricality: “Me to play.” But he never says this in Clov’s presence, and how much the servant knows that his cantankerous master is acting as dramatist is unclear. At one point Hamm chastises Clov for not understanding that he was uttering a dramatic aside: “An aside, ape! Did you never hear an aside before? I’m warming up for my last soliloquy.”
There’s a Shakespearean dimension to the proceedings—namely, Prospero and Caliban from The Tempest. Clov’s “I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others” recalls Caliban’s “You taught me language, and my profit on’t is I know how to curse,” while Hamm directly quotes Prospero with “Our revels now are ended.” But imbuing any of this with meaning is one of the pitfalls that Beckett seems to warn against:
Hamm. We’re not beginning to ... to ... mean something?
Clov. Mean something! You and I, mean something! [Brief laugh.] Ah that’s a good one!
Hamm is helpless and yet exercises ruthless control, not only over Clov but also his parents, Nagg (Bosco Hogan) and Nell (Marie Mullen, a Druid co-founder), who reside in trash bins, most often with the lids shut. Hamm is particularly fond of cursing Nagg, but the old man is sometimes able to return the fire:
Hamm: Scoundrel! Why did you engender me?
Nagg: I didn’t know.
Hamm: What? What didn’t you know?
Nagg: That it’d be you.
“There’s a Shakespearean dimension to the proceedings—namely, Prospero and Caliban.”
The performers all skillfully handle Beckett’s precise, staccato language, and that timing allows the comedy to flourish. Nolan captures Hamm’s capricious vindictiveness, his underlying weakness, his theatrical, hammy (pun intended) moments, alongside something sinister (though, perversely, not entirely unlikable).
His power is seemingly unquestioned—but Clov does wonder why he’s incapable of leaving the tyrant—and is wielded over minutiae. One hilarious sequence has Hamm believing that his chair is not perfectly placed in the center of the room, and he forces Clov to go through a series of micro-adjustments. Clov is not without his own power: he keeps Hamm alive and takes advantage of his blindness to avoid performing certain tasks. It’s a toxic co-dependency, and, in Nolan’s and Monaghan’s hands, evokes a sort of demented Laurel and Hardy.
Hamm has a flair for the theatrical, quoting Shakespeare, uttering asides, and delivering soliloquies. Photographs by HanJie Chow.
Hynes orchestrates the tonal shifts alongside James F. Ingalls’s foreboding lighting design and Gregory Clarke’s subtly ominous sound design. Despite the laughter along the way, the production achieves harrowing final moments.
For anyone who is resistant to experiencing bleakness in their entertainment in this current moment, it might be heartening to recall that Beckett’s work cannot be reduced to hopelessness or surrender: the playwright himself served in the French Resistance to Nazi occupation and was awarded the Croix de Guerre for bravery.
Perhaps even in Hamm and Clov’s drive to continue and endure, despite the absurdity and cruelty of their surroundings, there can be something to hold on to. Maybe they’re beginning to mean something, after all.
The Druid Theatre production of Samuel Beckett’s Endgame runs at the Irish Arts Center (726 Eleventh Ave.) through Nov. 23. Evening performances are 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays and 8 p.m. Thursday through Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday and 5 p.m. Sunday. For more information, visit irishartscenter.org.
Playwright: Samuel Beckett
Director: Garry Hynes
Set & Costume Design: Francis O’Connor
Lighting Design: James F. Ingalls
Sound Design: Gregory Clarke
Hair & Makeup Design: Gráinee Coughlan
