Happy Days

In a play where nothing happens, except for one static actor entombed in rock talking about nothing for 100 minutes, it’s surprising that Samuel Beckett’s absurdist classic is so often staged.  Pamela Rabe shows us why in this compelling and intriguing STC production.

In a blinding hot grey void, Rabe’s Winnie is up to her bosom in a mound, brutally alone, except for her old husband Willie (Markus Hamilton) who occasionally crawls from his cave but barely speaks.  Yet Winnie seems an optimistic, even coquettish old soul, chattering to herself as she wakes to another ‘happy day’, brushes her teeth, applies lipstick and delves into her huge bag of surprises like a music box and an unexplained pistol. 

Her eyesight is fading; maybe she’ll sink further and become all rock if she stops talking; just one mumble from Willie spins her from despair to “count her blessings”.  Life seems unfathomable, and death lurks.

Pamela Rabe excels in making us feel for Winnie, to see her as more than just a dry existential voice of Absurdist Theatre, circa 1961.  Her florid Sixties costume (Mel Page) lends Winnie a showgirl defiance as she swoops between ominous tragedy and vaudevillian grimaces.

Beckett obsessively purged his script of any refences to time and place but Rabe’s mound is made real enough, especially later when by now she is up to her neck in it and struggling even to watch out for Willie.   Here we really see how Rabe’s facial dexterity and vocal range, her sharp and energetic interpretation of Beckett’s non-sequiturs, makes this such an unmissable performance.

Rabe co-directed the production with Nick Schlieper who also created the set and lighting, whether a pinpoint ray seeming to shimmer on Rabe’s agile face or wider wash of lighting solitude.  Stefan Gregory’s occasional sound of thunderous roars nicely pierces the nothingness.

Martin Portus

Photographer: Brett Boardman