48 / CHRONICLESnto shrug off. It’s easy for the Americannclerisy to shut their power windowsnand ignore the eommotion outsidentheir hmousines. Too bad it’s not soneasy for the rest of us.nSam Karnick is a screenwriter whonlives in Madison, Wisconsin.nSTAGEnNil and Void:nBeckett’s Last Gaspnby David KaufmannDuring the ongoing, international celebrationnof Samuel Beckett’s 80thnbirthday, which commenced lastnspring, much is being said, written,nand done to reiterate unequivocally hisnposition as the preeminent playwrightnof our century. There is no debate,nreally, so much as an affirmation andnan exploration of his unquestionednsignificance. The irony, of course, isnto be found in the very notion ofn”celebration”; for nothing could benfurther from the essence of Beckett’snlife and work, an oeuvre of nihilism sondreadful and methodically perfect innits devastating portrayal of nothingnessnthat it defies celebration.n”My work,” wrote Beckett in a letternto his director Alan Schneider duringnthe early stages o{ Endgame in 1957,n”is a matter of fundamental sounds (nonjoke intended) made as fully as possible,nand I accept responsibility fornnothing else. If people want to havenheadaches among the overtones, letnthem. And provide their own aspirin.”nIf Beckett felt above taking any aspirinnhimself, he also felt there was nonpossible relief from the dread of thenvoid he insisted on facing. “The majornsin is the sin of being born,” as Beckettnparaphrased Sophocles to the NewnYork Herald Tribune in 1964.nSome years ago a dissatisfied KennethnTynan summarized Beckett withnthe statement, “I am bored therefore Inam.” Recently a more respectful RichardnEUman refined Tynan’s allusionnwhen he wrote, “I suffer, therefore Inmay be,” as his commentary on Beckett.nIn their search for a consummatenmetaphor, both the detractor and thenchampion independently looked backnto no one less than Descartes as anproper predecessor to Beckett. It willntake an equivalent few hundred yearsnto know if Beckett’s impact will be asninfluential as it now seems or halfwaynas profound as Descartes. Some considernit well on its way to being justnthat. But as literary criticism has discovered,nthe very notion of influencenis suspect—at the very least it must benviewed as moving backwards no lessnthan forwards. Ellman argues that notnonly can we locate the influence ofnWilde, Yeats, and Joyce on Beckett,nbut that since Beckett we are compellednto reevaluate their work as well.nBeckett has made a pact with thencosmos, which he reveals as beingnunrevealable, unmalleable, implacable.nHe has been rewarded handsomelynin return, and many a critic hasnpredicted that his cry in the wildernessnwill be heard as long as there are earsnto listen. But—and this is both thengrace and the curse of Beckett’s visionn—as long as that may be, it isn’t nearlynlong enough. According to Beckett’snmercilessly grim view, any achievementnis at best a whimper, a sigh, angroan. What is humanity, accordingnto Beckett, but mere flatulence releasednagainst the grander scheme?nThe imperfection, the limitation ofnhumanity, is to deduce a schemenwhere none exists.n”‘I suffer, therefore I may be’ wasnhis improvement upon Descartes,”nproclaims Ellmann, who goes on tonexplain, “as if misery marked but didnnot confirm existence, and as if thinkingnwere out of the question.” FornBeckett, the question itself no less thannthe thought that provokes it are equallynartificial and absurd. Only nothing hasnproven sufficient or can hope to benenough. His later writings suggest thatneven Waiting for Godot, his 1952 masterpiecenwhich catapulted him to internationalnfame and which infectednmuch that has come since, is fornBeckett but a sigh in comparison to thenawesome winds of eternity. Althoughnits running time is significantiy longer,nGodot is no more meaningful than hisnopus. Breath, a play lasting 35 seconds.nBoth are equally meaningless innrelation to the void he cannot surmount,nthe vacuum he has spent anlifetime trying to capture. While manynnncontend that Beckett has succeeded innhis obsessive mission to articulate thenvoid, for Beckett success is out of thenquestion, and the void is too terrible tonever be harnessed.nTwo years ago there were two separatenrevivals of Beckett’s Endgame.nOne was a straightforward rendering,nguaranteed to recapture the flavor ornthe imprint of the original, since it wasndirected by Alvin Epstein, who initiatednthe role of Clov (the servant ornfetcher) in the 1958 premiere productionnand who here assumed the part ofnHam (the seated, blind master) in then1984 version. But it was another productionnwhich opened within monthsnof Epstein’s that makes for the moreninteresting historical footnote. As directednby JoAnne Akalaitis for RobertnBrustein’s American Repertory Theaternin Cambridge, this second productionntook creative license by positioningnthe four characters in an obsoletensubway station. Beckett objected vigorouslynto reports of Akalaitis’ intendednproduction, and the play was finallynpermitted to open only with the followingncaveat inserted in the program:n”My play requires an empty room andntwo small windows.” (For the record,nhe also objected to the inclusion ofnbackground music—in this case composednby Philip Glass.) Beckett’s responsenwas more than a littie surprising,nconsidering that the setting fornEndgame had been represented in thenpast variously as an infant’s playpen, anchicken coop, and a boxing ring,nwithout—as far as I can glean —nincurring so hostile a reaction from thenplaywright. It’s also ironic and hypocriticalnin view of Beckett’s reputationnas an active advocate of political freedom,na reputation based on his involvementnwith the French ResistancenMovement during the war and, morento the point, his boycotting the productionnof any of his plays in his nativenIreland in protest of the Irish government’sninterfering with planned productionsnof works by Joyce and SeannO’Casey at an annual festival of playsnin Dublin in the late 50’s.nAlong with Godot and Endgame,nBeckett’s other most famous play isnprobably Krapp’s Last Tape, currentlynrevived in New York in what must benviewed as an authorized production,nsince it has been directed by Beckettnhimself Krapp is the first postwar workn