REVIEW: Still – Late Works by Samuel Beckett, Theatre Works

Samuel Beckett’s most well-known works as a playwright – Waiting for Godot, Endgame, Happy Days – place him firmly in a genre known as Theatre of the Absurd. The texts are precise, the dialogue sparse and the situations his characters find themselves in are strange, perhaps even ridiculous. They can be affecting and frustrating, but Beckett’s style is distinct.

His shorter theatrical works like Not I or Footfalls or Eh Joe, all monologues, are all constrained by particular conceits. Not I takes place in a pitch-black space only illuminated by a single beam of light. Footfalls describes the character pacing back and forth in nine steps only; her steps like a metronome. These experiences are evocative, but when we cast off the expectation of narrative in a full-length play, the audience is invited to consider character and rhythm.

In the Victorian Theatre Company’s new production of works from late in Beckett’s life, they are theatricalising some of his short stories. His prose is evocative and often reads like a monologue anyway; the five pieces chosen for Still – including his final published piece Stirrings Still from 1989 – are perfectly suited to the stage.

After collaborating on a stage version of Beckett’s Worstward Ho at Theatre Works in 2023, director Richard Murphet and actor Robert Meldrum have returned to collaborate on a considered and exacting collection of pieces that reflect on ageing and death, while finding beauty in light and dark and stillness.

This year, I’ve seen numerous shows on Melbourne’s stages that have been a series of vignettes centred around a theme. One or two of these have been superb. Most have felt like enthusiasm for a subject pulled in too many directions. Beckett’s career is filled with contemplations on mortality and the fragility and strangeness of life, so it’s not surprising this company has found a handful of pieces that fit together so well.

The black box space is embraced, side walls on a tight angle, chalk outlines of doors and windows on the walls and flats. The show begins in full darkness though. We listen to Meldrum’s voice for a while, before a very slow fade up. The lighting is, pardon me, perfectly illuminating – only ever giving us exact squares or bubbles of light around the action.

Meldrum is alone on stage. He has perfect control of his voice and his body. No movements feel superfluous, no action unmotivated. Sometimes he is reacting to an omnipotent voice that is describing certain actions or perhaps directing them. Mostly, he is articulating Beckett’s prose with his rich voice, imparting stories of delicate wonder and sudden death.

Murphet and Meldrum’s collaboration is remarkable. From choosing the works, to bringing them together in a carefully shaped dramatic hour. They are honouring Beckett’s work by imposing the kind of constraints he might have put on these pieces if he’d considered them for the stage. In one passage, Meldrum moves so slowly around the stage, it could feel agonising, if it wasn’t so compelling.

Still is a beautifully designed and executed work by two legends of Australian theatre. It is rich in its stage craft and astonishing in execution. It is a theatrical gem.

Still is at Theatre Works’ Explosives Factory until July 26

Photos: Darren Gill

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