The current Broadway revival at the Cort Theater of Waiting For Godot is never less than riveting. That's thanks to the extraordinary chemistry between Ian McKellen as Estragon and Patrick Stewart as a determined, upbeat Vladimir/Didi.
Whatever your reactions to any particular element (most everyone agrees Twelfth Night is the triumph for Rylance while opinion is divided on these two), it's safe to say these are "events" in the best sense of the word, nights of theater you want to see and judge for yourself.
The pairing of No Man's Land with Godot is a stroke of genius, bringing the two masters of comedic and enigmatic incomprehension, Pinter and Beckett, to the stage in alternating performances that underscore the affinity between them.
In busy spells -- which in the Broadway arena typically include the two weeks before Thanksgiving and the month before the various award deadlines in the spring -- it is not uncommon for critics and award nominators to find themselves at five or six a week. Eighteen in 16, though, is overdoing it.
It is a testament to the genius of Samuel Beckett that after 60 years, Waiting for Godot can still astonish with its cutting-edge brilliance, even in a low-key staging like the one Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart are now starring in at the Cort Theatre.
As I entered Sir Ian's dressing room, he was napping on the couch, wearing a backwards flat cap and mock Hawaiian paradise shirt that said, "Iraq," hinting at the lesser known comedic side of his personality.
Fine Scotch whisky flows freely in Harold Pinter's No Man's Land, always consumed straight, or as the British would say, "as it is." Even the sharpest of memories would turn fuzzy under such influence.