Each of the two actors has his own set of chops. Alain Villeneuve as Estragon is startlingly honest onstage, seeming to be Gogo rather than playing him, a man in perpetual anguished search. There's no sense that the actor is even aware of an audience; he seems completely caught up in the play's relationships and events, making the audience feel we're eavesdropping on him. Villeneuve's physical details likewise astonish; for example, he chews a carrot much as a man with bad or no teeth would. But the actor has—or affects—a thick, sometimes incomprehensible, French accent and sometimes alters Beckett's sentence structure. As Vladimir, Andy Wagner offers tireless energy over the evening's almost two and a half relentless hours. But Wagner is going for effect, not truth, in strident conflict with his scene partner. And when Didi speaks with the Boy (V Cardozo) at the end of each act, information is exchanged but no resonant communication occurs.
Charles Pacello's limning of the pompous Pozzo changes style and purpose over the evening. This Pozzo is sometimes a sophisticate out of an English drawing room, sometimes a spoiled child. Further, when the actor takes his sweet time delivering his lines, our interest in him slips through his fingers. And, as the slaving Lucky, Deshik Vansadia's accent makes his delivery completely incomprehensible.
Where, then, has director Timothy McNeil been? In failing to require comprehensible dialogue from his actors, McNeil fails to serve the text and the audience. With no consistent style or through line, with nothing explicative or universal, the production of this epic play is tedious and one-note. With no point of view, vision, or even apparent purpose, this production sadly isn't worth the wait.
Presented by Tomfoolery Productions in association with Stella Adler–Los Angeles at the Stella Adler Theatre, 6773 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood. Sept. 3–Oct. 3. Fri.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 and 7:30 p.m. (323) 960-7770. www.plays411.com.waitingforgodot.