Waiting for Godot Page #7

Synopsis: Two tramps wait for a man named Godot, but instead meet a pompous man and his stooped-over slave.
 
IMDB:
7.7
Year:
2001
120 min
2,620 Views


But we were there together,

I could swear to it!

Picking grapes for a man called...

...can't think of the name of the man,

at a place called...

...can't think of the name of the place,

do you not remember?

Yes. It's possible. I didn't notice anything.

But down there everything is red!

I didn't notice anything, I tell you!

You're a hard man to get on with, Gogo.

It'd be better if we parted.

You always say that and you always

come crawling back.

The best thing would be to kill me,

like the other.

What other?

What other?

Like billions of others.

To every man his little cross.

Till he dies.

And is forgotten.

In the meantime let us try and

converse calmly,..

...since we are incapable of

keeping silent.

You're right, we're inexhaustible.

It's so we won't think.

We have that excuse.

It's so we won't hear.

We have our reasons.

All the dead voices.

They make a noise like wings.

Like leaves.

Like sand.

Like leaves.

They all speak together.

Each one to itself.

Rather they whisper.

They rustle.

They murmur.

They rustle.

What do they say?

They talk about their lives.

To have lived is not enough for them.

They have to talk about it.

To be dead is not enough for them.

It is not sufficient.

They make a noise like feathers.

Like leaves.

Likes ashes.

Like leaves.

Say something!

I'm seeking.

Say anything at all!

What do we do now?

Wait for Godot.

Ah! Yes.

This is awful!

Sing something.

No no!

We could start all over again perhaps.

That should be easy.

It's the start that's difficult.

You can start from anything.

Yes, but you have to decide.

True.

Help me!

I'm seeking.

When you seek you hear.

- You do.

- That prevents you from finding.

- It does.

- That prevents you from thinking.

You think all the same.

No no, it's impossible.

That's the idea, let's contradict

each another.

Impossible.

You think so?

We're in no danger of ever thinking

any more.

Then what are we complaining about?

Thinking is not the worst.

Perhaps not. But at least there's that.

That what?

That's the idea, let's ask each

other questions.

What do you mean, at least there's that?

That much less misery.

True.

Well? If we gave thanks for our mercies?

What is terrible is to have thought.

But did that ever happen to us?

Where are all these corpses from?

These skeletons.

- Tell me that.

- True

We must have thought a little.

At the very beginning.

A charnel-house! A charnel-house!

You don't have to look.

- You can't help looking.

-True

Try as one may.

I beg your pardon?

Try as one may.

We should turn resolutely towards

Nature.

- We've tried that.

-True.

- On it's not the worst, I know.

-What?

To have thought.

Obviously.

But we could have done without it.

Que voulez-vous?

I beg your pardon?

Que voulez-vouz.

Ah! Que voulez-vous.

Exactly.

That wasn't such a bad little canter.

Yes, but now we'll have to find

something else.

Let me see.

Let me see.

Let me see.

- Ah!

- Well?

What was I saying, we could go on

from there.

What were you saying when?

At the very beginning.

The very beginning of WHAT?

This evening... I was saying...

I was saying . . .

I'm not a historian.

Wait...

we embraced... we were happy...

happy . . . what do we do now

that we're happy...

go on waiting . . .

waiting... let me think...

it's coming...

go on waiting . . . now that

we're happy . . .

let me see... ah! The tree!

The tree?

-Do you not remember?

-I'm tired.

Look at it.

I see nothing.

But yesterday evening it was all

pale and bare like a skeleton.

And now it's covered with leaves.

Leaves?

In a single night.

It must be the Spring.

But in a single night!

We weren't here yesterday, I tell you.

Another of your nightmares.

And where were we yesterday evening

according to you?

How would I know? In another compartment.

There's no lack of void.

Good.

We weren't here yesterday evening.

Now what did we do yesterday evening?

Do?

Try and remember.

Do...

...I suppose we blathered.

About what?

Oh . . . this and that I suppose,

nothing in particular.

Yes, now I remember, yesterday

evening we spent blathering...

...about nothing in particular.

That's been going on

now for half a century.

You don't remember any fact,

any circumstance?

Don't torment me, Didi.

The sun. The moon. Do you not

remember?

They must have been there, as usual.

You didn't notice anything out of

the ordinary?

Alas!

And Pozzo? And Lucky?

- Pozzo?

- The bones.

They were like fishbones.

It was Pozzo gave them to you.

I don't know.

And the kick.

That's right, someone gave me a kick.

It was Lucky gave it to you.

And all that was yesterday?

-Show me your leg.

- Which?

Both. Pull up your trousers.

Pull up your trousers.

I can't.

The other.

The other, pig!

There's the wound! Beginning to fester!

And what about it?

Where are your boots?

-I must have thrown them away.

-When?

- I don't know.

- Why?

I don't know why I don't know!

No, I mean why did you throw them away?

Because they were hurting me!

There they are! At the very spot

where you left them yesterday!

They're not mine.

Not yours!

Mine were black. These are brown.

You're sure yours were black?

Well they were a kind of gray.

And these are brown.

Well they're a kind of green.

Show me.

Well of all the

You see, all that's a lot of bloody

Ah! I see what it is. Yes, I see

what's happened.

All that's a lot of bloody

It's elementary. Someone came and

took yours and left you his.

Why?

His were too tight for him,

so he took yours.

But mine were too tight.

For you. Not for him.

I'm tired!

- Let's go.

-We can't

Why not?

We're waiting for Godot.

Ah! Yes.

What'll we do, what'll we do!

There's nothing we can do.

But I can't go on like this!

Would you like a radish?

Is that all there is?

There are radishes and turnips.

Are there no carrots?

No. Anyway you overdo it with

your carrots.

Then give me a radish.

It's black!

It's a radish.

I only like the pink ones, you

know that!

Did you not wanted?

I only like the pink ones!

Then give it back to me.

I'll go and get a carrot.

This is becoming really insignificant.

Not enough.

What about trying them.

I've tried everything.

No, I mean the boots.

Would that be a good thing?

- It'd pass the time.

- I assure you, it'd be an occupation.

- A relaxation.

- A recreation.

- A relaxation.

-Try.

- You'll help me?

- I will of course.

We don't manage too badly, eh Didi,

between the two of us?

Yes yes. Come on, we'll try the

left first.

We always find something, eh Didi,

to give us the impression we exist?

Yes yes, we're magicians.

But let us persevere in what we

have resolved, before we forget.

Come on, give me your foot.

The other, hog!

Higher!

Try and walk.

Well?

It fits.

We'll try and lace it.

No no, no laces, no laces!

You'll be sorry.

Let's try the other.

- Well?

- It fits too.

- They don't hurt you?

- Not yet.

-Then you can keep them.

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Samuel Beckett

Samuel Barclay Beckett (; 13 April 1906 – 22 December 1989) was an Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, poet, and literary translator who lived in Paris for most of his adult life. He wrote in both English and French. Beckett's work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human existence, often coupled with black comedy and gallows humor, and became increasingly minimalist in his later career. He is considered one of the last modernist writers, and one of the key figures in what Martin Esslin called the "Theatre of the Absurd".Beckett was awarded the 1969 Nobel Prize in Literature "for his writing, which—in new forms for the novel and drama—in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation". He was elected Saoi of Aosdána in 1984. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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