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.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
Still is at Theatre Works’ Explosives
Factory until July 26
Photos: Darren Gill
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