REVIEW: Strong acting, inconsistent pacing in Star Bar's "Godot"

The Star Bar Players once again reaches for the theatrical firmament, this time with their production of Samuel Beckett’s legendary play about nothing, “Waiting for Godot.”

The run ends Saturday.

The compelling cast is often riveting, which is a marvel in a world where little makes sense. But “Godot” demands tight pacing and a consistent balance between the comedy and tragedy to carry the audience through the roughly three-hour show. While this production is entertaining, the emptiness and futility at the play’s absurdist core are soft pedaled, often as profound as a city council meeting. Perhaps the triad of directors — Alysabeth Clements Mosley, Cory Moosman and Brian Mann — were two too many.

In a gray nowhere, a pair of desiccated travelers Estragon (Steve Wallace) and Vladimir (Joseph Forbeck) wait for the arrival of the mysterious Godot (played, the program says, by the late actor Bob Pinney). But in a wasteland where time and memory is elusive, have they stood next to that lone tree for days — or is it decades?

Even after a half century, “Godot” remains a tough nut. The 1956 New York City premiere prompted Times reviewer Brooke Atkinson to call it “a mystery wrapped in an enigma.” And when early producers asked Beckett for insight, he demurred: “I know no more about this play than anyone who manages to read it attentively.”

When it’s done right, “Waiting for Godot” is a taut, vaudevillian funny, sad and provocative allegory for ... well, just about anything. Critics have suggested it’s about politics, power, Freudian and Jungian psychology, existentialism and religion (in this production Godot is pronounced “God-oh”).

You choose.

Barring a linear narrative or clear theme, “Godot” — which has seen Steve Martin and Robin Williams, Nathan Lane and Bill Irwin in lead roles — absolutely requires disciplined actors who can command attention and have the skill to keep it.

The moment he walks on the stage, you can feel Dylan Mosley’s intelligence and control of his character: Pozzo, a man so powerful that he keeps a slave named Lucky (the amazing and unexpected Sammy Gleason) on a rope tether. A fop with supermodel make-up (kudos to Jonathan Eberhardt on all the make up) and silver caps on his teeth, Mosley-Pozzo vamps and preens, pouts and beams during his all-too-brief turn on the stage. His Pozzo is both mannered and detestable (“You’re being spoken to, pig. Reply!” he shouts at Lucky’s beaten figure), but also strangely, hauntingly vulnerable.

Wallace is also pyrotechnic. A fixture of the local theater scene, he’s lately delivered some fine performances in TheatreWorks’ “Twelve Angry Men” and “Arsenic and Old Lace.” His work here kicks it up a notch. Wallace carves out an Estragon that’s simply true — not only to Beckett’s topsy-turvy world, but to what it is to human. Everything makes sense in this senseless character, down to Wallace’s alternating deadpan and childlike presence and the  way he worries an errant boot like it’s a rosary. Kudos.

Joseph Forbeck, who plays Vladimir, doesn’t seem to get it — or be able to handle the rigors of this tough play. And his lack of precision in delivery, timing and stage presence ruptures the audience’s ability to process this curious world. Perhaps more than other plays, “Godot” doesn’t need any distractions.

Another nit: Don’t delay the beginning of the play waiting for a song to end. The Buddy Nutt tune is just fine, it’s too long, and it eventually feels self-conscious. Plus, the fog, which is pumped into the company’s  lovely new hall, disappears before actors hit the stage.