Insurgo celebrates absurdity with ‘Godot’

The circus atmosphere in the Fremont Street Experience area leading to the renovated Plaza hardly seems, at first, an appropriate prelude to a Samuel Beckett play.

Once inside, you ascend an escalator and see a lighted wall sign that announces, among other things, "Bingo" and "Insurgo." The Insurgo Theater is an intimate space with tables that put you in the mood for dinner theater.

A cocktail waitress begins hawking her wares. It’s a little disconcerting to be listening to a play about the meaning of life when you’ve got a scantily clad woman blocking your view as she sorts out drinks.

But it didn’t take me long to appreciate the atmosphere. Yeah, it’s different, but it eventually struck me as a healthy marriage between "regular life" and "stage life." Why shouldn’t talk of existence be played out at a place where "ordinary" people go to gamble and drink? Maybe that marriage is better than the isolation that can come when the arts are housed in their own, exclusive temple.

Director Daneal Doerr’s take on "Waiting for Godot" is an entertaining one. She skillfully milks the comedy and poignancy in the plight of Vladimir (Ernie Curcio) and Estragon (John Beane) to keep occupied while they anticipate the arrival of a man who may or may never be coming. Of course, Beckett being Beckett, the waiting is the play. What seems at first nonsense dialogue becomes a tough, yet comforting treatise on how to deal with being alive.

Curcio and Beane have entertainingly different vocal rhythms. But Curcio doesn’t create a character. His actor-y movements and mugging suggest a performer, not Vladimir. But Beane loses himself in the role; you hardly recognize him. He’s funny all right, but he keeps his humor within the confines of the role.

Oliver Jones, in a mostly silent part, manages to communicate the sorrow of a constantly tormented boy/man who is physically abused. Jones reminds us that good acting comes more from the brain than the mouth.

The production feels long because the acting beats get repetitive; there’s not enough vocal variation. But the show does the important thing right: It humanizes a great absurdist writer. And to make doubly sure we’re sent home happy, the final moment features a simple, stunning visual effect that takes you aback with its unexpected beauty.