Happy Days

"No better, no worse, no change."

Amidst a dying economy and the destruction of everyday people's livelihood, it grows increasingly harder to wake up each morning to the incessant nag of an alarm clock only to hear how far the global crisis has fallen and not believe that we are in some kind of hell. The Guthrie's production of Samuel Beckett's Happy Days provides a metaphorical glimpse into one possible abstract future. Rob Melrose directs a talented cast of two on a journey through an unusual existential world.

Whether or not the characters exist in some form of the afterlife or a peculiar reality is unimportant. They inhabit a world of scorched earth, burned by an unceasing light with the power to ignite objects on fire. Some are buried up to their waste in dirt and others have the luxury of mobility. Rather, it is imperative for individuals, both the actors and audience, to search for what truly sustains and supports their existence. Many will leave the performance unsure at its meanings and devices and so, this is my attempt to shed some understanding through my experience.

Act I begins with a sleeping Winnie, expertly portrayed by Guthrie veteran Sally Wingert, slouched over on a hill but held firmly in place by her buried torso. The serene sounds of distant chimes and faint winds permeate the air. A parasol and bag lay about the ground near Winnie within arm's reach. The backdrop is that of a blurred blue and gray sky with slight hints of a seascape, although the exact location is never revealed. This serene moment is rudely interrupted by "the bell," an annoying ding of sorts, and signals the beginning of Winnie's day.

From the moment Wingert opens her eyes at the sound of the bell, she grabs the audience with great enthusiasm and holds on for the play's entirety. Wingert confidently leads the audience in a world that has no distinction of time but is instead measured by the moments one is awake or asleep. Her Winnie passes the time through strict attention to mundane routines. Even the normal motions of brushing one's teeth receive precise consideration towards carefully selecting the toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bag, one at a time, and carefully laying them neatly on the ground.

Although unclear, it can be assumed that Winnie has remained in this existential situation for some time as there are several suggestions from the text that her physical and mental attributes are fading. At the beginning of the play, she can be heard reciting fragments to a prayer that, at one point in her life, she probably had no problem recalling. Another example is in her determination to figure out the final words inscribed on her toothbrush -- going to great lengths to polish the utensil and even pull a magnifying glass from her bag. Throughout the play, Winnie pulls from different memories of her past but can never fully place them along her lifeline. Each story seems to be missing parts and it can be only assumed as to how many she has already forgotten.

At her core, Winnie is a voracious talker and has a great affinity for language, something Wingert effortlessly displays. While at times it seems she is merely babbling to herself, she shares this plain with her husband Willie played by Richard Ooms. Appearing and disappearing from view at will, Willie cares little for routine but instead busies himself with getting in and out of his hole, an option not available to Winnie, and pleasuring himself. Ooms embodies the juvenile Willie and does well with an arguably unrewarding character that serves as momentum for the play. For me, Willie's one redeeming quality is that for Winnie, true happiness comes from each response Willie will give her, regardless of length or discernment. This provides the window into Winnie's greatest fear of lonliness.

The much shorter Act II opens after the passage of an undisclosed amount of time. Despite eternal optimism and routine, Winnie's situation has worsened and she is now buried up to her neck in a mound of earth. Unable to follow her usual routine, Winnie tries to drift off into sleep more frequently but each time is blocked by the sound of the bell. Winnie's fortitude slowly crumbles as the sense of being alone surrounds her existence.

The end of the play provides several unanswerable questions. Up to this point, the apparent end for Winnie seems to move closer and closer as the mound builds up around her body. However, the end never comes but instead she is left with a constant life on the edge of the moment of death. Winnie is granted a brief respite when Willie reappears for the only time during the act. Clearly shaken and unstable, Willie painfully pulls at the ground to move towards the top of the mound. But what is his motivation?

‘Is it me you’re after, Willie, or is it something else? Is it a kiss you’re after, Willie, or is it something else?’

On the ground next to Winnie is a revolver, removed from her bag during Act I. At this point, Willie offers his only line during the act, 'Win!' While this brings great joy to Winnie through the exclamation of "this will have been another happy day," the audience cannot help but feel a sense of ambiguity towards Willie's actions as the play comes to a close. What was his motive? Was his exacerbated call to his wife out of love or hopelessness?

So now America and its fellow global neighbors are looking for their "happy days" of 2009 and search for their own motives. We can learn from the dreary realities Beckett presents in any number of his plays. No amount of optimism will solve our current problems and we are given the choice to blindly follow our daily routines or look elsewhere for answers. The world is getting worse, there is pain, and we look forward to change.

*****
From an interview with Brenda Bruce, the first London Winnie, on where Beckett found inspiration for his female protagonist:

“Well I thought that the most dreadful thing that could happen to anybody, would be not to be allowed to sleep so that just as you’re dropping off there’s be a ‘Dong’ and you’d have to keep awake; you’re sinking into the ground alive and it’s full of ants; and the sun is shining endlessly day and night and there is not a tree … there’s no shade, nothing, and that bell wakes you up all the time and all you’ve got is a little parcel of things to see you through life.” He was talking about a woman’s life, let’s face it. Then he said: “And I thought who would cope with that and go down singing, only a woman.”

-Damned to Fame, The Life of Samuel Beckett (Knowlson, J.)