Presented by Flabbergast Theatre

Review by Dominic Corr

Forth at Pleasance Courtyard

Samuel Beckett’s notoriously dictatorial stage directions often leave contemporary creatives wrestling with an artistic straitjacket. Yet, for those curious to witness a production straining against the very seams of what the playwright’s estate might permit, following a staggeringly brilliant Macbeth (which audiences could have caught at Cumbernauld Theatre earlier in the year), Flabbergast Theatre’s staging at the EICC offers a thrillingly physical interpretation of his dourest masterwork. Written in the shadow of personal tragedy, the text plunges audiences into an absurdist, post-apocalyptic stalemate, trapping its characters in a spartan room flanked by two high windows facing the town and the sea.

Commanding the centre of this desolate space is Henry Maynard as Hamm, a blind, wheelchair-bound tyrant who relies on his servant, Clov, for everything from painkillers to the combination for their dwindling pantry. Maynard eschews the slyly manipulative interpretations of the past, instead delivering a vocal tour-de-force where he bellows and wails with the rhetorical power of a desperate preacher. As Clov, Simon Gleave embodies a masterclass in physical clowning; his mime-like expressions and frantic, hobbled movements offer genuine moments of originality despite the script’s rigid parameters. While Beckett’s punishing reliance on repetitive dialogue and circular action can occasionally drag the pacing into the excruciatingly stagnant lulls for which the play is famously divisive, Gleave’s endearing clumsiness consistently injects a much-needed, dynamic black humour that prevents the existential dread from becoming entirely suffocating.

Perhaps the production’s greatest revelation lies within the dustbins. As Hamm’s legless parents, Nagg and Nell, Derek Elwood and Annabel Arden transcend their restrictive staging to deliver profoundly moving performances. Arden brings a staggering pathos to the iconic assertion that “nothing is funnier than unhappiness,” while Elwood grounds his character’s grief with a sobering sincerity. Together, they operate almost like tragic Punch and Judy puppets, attempting to conjure joy through reminiscence amidst the gloom.

Infusing all four characters with distinct elements of Bouffon, Flabbergast Theatre crafts a nimble, undulating rhythm that allows the evening to rise into striking crescendos before falling back into despair. It is certainly a demanding watch, extending well beyond the standard fifty-minute Fringe hour, but those willing to endure its challenging peaks and troughs will be richly rewarded. This is an accomplished, boldly physical revival of an existential masterpiece, performed by a cast operating at the absolute height of their theatrical talents.

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