The tiny black box of Theatre Le Proscenium admirably suits the claustrophobic atmosphere of two theater pieces, both two handers, so typically Beckett. Life is painful for the blind man and the cripple in Fragment I. Unrelated to the world around them, they have only each other...or do they? In a world where the human voice is no longer listened to, they heed each other. One tries to make music, but the violin he scratches on is fake. The other purrs; he farts, therefore he is. Billy uses a stick to guide the unseeing companion. Metaphorically, the blind leads the blind, both of whom the world fails to note. Do they at least give each other respect, or is this a comic routine? The actors convey Beckett's ambiguity about the human condition. This seems right.
In Fragment II comes a man's contemplation of suicide. He's behind a curtain, from which will come cries like those of a cat. Two invited others, one young and one old, attend in the room. Tension grows acute. They argue big-time. The outside world intrudes only by way of the thoughts of the man who looks through the window. He certainly sees more than the sky science describes. They hear pipes. What's in a box? No one conveys suspense better than Beckett, and the actors make capital of it.
Because all of this soon becomes boring as drama, one must settle for the poetry. As usual with Beckett, it makes no moral points. Providing a grand exercise for actors must be a major reason for the recent popularity of Beckett's theatrical exercises. The musical background isn't bad either.
