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Based on Beckett’s Theater of the Absurd, the Netflix film won’t make you blink for 108 minutes

Inadequacy to the world serves man as a sign that it is necessary for him to seek understanding – first of his own nature, his fears, needs and misery – which will allow him to reach the instinctive wisdom that must again lie down proper to him as a support in obtaining from himself, drawn from the deepest and most barbarous of his spirit, some sign that it is not an outright extravagance to suppose that one has the chance, however small is, to penetrate the vast realm (and often dangerous) of self-knowledge, but only at the end of an exhausting and fruitless pilgrimage through a world too big, too unjust, showing him with all the savage serenity , where, no matter how hard he tries, from almost every ground where he sets his feet, only a bitter herb grows, which neither nourishes nor amuses him. Man spends his life fearing the posture he takes in the face of difficulties that clutter his prosaic day-to-day, no matter how much he thinks and reconsiders his positions, precisely because he knows it sooner or later (and it is almost always very soon) , much sooner than if he wanted to) fate will send him the bill, and he will have to explain himself for everything he has done – and even more for what he has failed to do. Harassed by its choices, humanity moves forward in time, confronted with a fear of the future that not infrequently degenerates into paranoia based on a maddened struggle between good and evil, a conjuncture that existence presents to it in the form of an endless coming and going emotions bordering on the absurd.

Plots in which the ordinary citizen seems completely out of place, deprived of all decision-making power, forced to exile himself in a parallel world, since the stage of reality is taken over by forces over which he has no control, disturbs the spirit of the characterless man and excites the genius of the , who has the wonderful gift of interpreting the aura of obscurantism and intellectual degeneration of the era in which he lives and catalyzing the phenomenon to promote the changes he considers necessary, in the way he knows. how, without becoming impatient for results and even coating with a very appropriate cynicism and just basking in the laurels of his reflections, deeply in disbelief that a truly powerful transformation is taking place.

As the title suggests, it is impossible to make the most irrelevant comment about “Beckett” without analyzing, even if from a bird’s eye view, the work of the playwright who lends his surname to the film and the central character. The Irishman Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) had a superhuman ability to extract from the wretched soul what was even more worthy of loathing and pity: its smallness, invincible, visceral, metaphysical, in the face of the world, vast, merciless and much, very perverse , that surrounds it – and it is not necessary to hang a diploma from Harvard or Sorbonne to make the conclusion, this, yes, very logical, that this world is, in the overwhelming majority of circumstances, the state, omnipresent, inflated , mastodonic, thirsty for results, whatever that means. The more man dreams of the possible freedom, the more the said system shows him that even that is not up to him, that his role is to sublimate the pains of his weak humanity and feed the machine without protest until death comes to his rescue. .

The script by the director Ferdinando Cito Filomarino and Kevin A. Rice pays tribute to Beckett from “Waiting for Godot” from 1952. Surely Filomarino and Rice are aware that this text appeared in French, premiered at the Théâtre Babylone, a údi-grudi dust of a Paris always celebrated but still crushed by six years of savage war, directed by Roger Blin (1907-1984). And everyone knows that to say the name of the most beautiful flower in Ireland is immediately to allude to the theater of the absurd, the way Beckett found to overcome the madness of life. It is precisely this hook that the screenwriter-director and his collaborator stick to when they tell the story of Beckett, the quiet American played by a suitably stunned John David Washington, vacationing in a paradise in the bowels of Greece. Filomarino and Rice transform Vladimir and Estragon into Beckett and his partner, April, from a generous Alicia Vikander, a five-pointed star who knows when to shine and let her partner shine. Of course, the two are fleeing from some danger, real or imagined, future or imminent, and when an event where they are caught by accident, the chase begins, which continues until the end, whose target of evil Greeks is the black Beckett. .

This detail of “Beckett’s” script caused thoughts that keep coming back to me. I find it hard to believe that an orderly people like the Hellenic produces individuals who look down on an outsider and are dark-skinned – so they were subjugated with animal violence by Turkey until yesterday. I prefer to assume that it is all about pure Beckett, the Irishman, and his delirious theatre, transposed to the screen by a director and his partner far more daring than the cinema has been able to swallow for some time now.


Movie: Beckett
Direction: Ferdinando Cito Filomarino
Year: 2021
genres: Thriller/Drama
Note: 9/10

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