In “Happy Days,” Samuel Beckett’s masterpiece comedy of human endurance, Annie Paladino ’09, rules over the world—literally and metaphorically speaking. That’s because Winnie, the everywoman heroine, is literally trapped up to her waist in a large mound of earth, which, in Paladino’s thesis production, towers over the stage. No “expanse of scorched grass rising to low mound” as Beckett described in the original stage directions, this is a mountain of rubble, at the pinnacle of which rests Winnie. This set description, expertly conceived by set designer Ian Agoos ’10, also provides an apt metaphor for Paladino’s performance; both captivating and extravagant, it was a physical tour de force. Though skillfully directed by Gedney Barclay ’09, the production was undoubtedly dominated by Paladino’s performance, at times even overshadowing Beckett’s text.
“Happy Days” begins with Winnie, whom Beckett describes as “about 50, well preserved,” confined in a vast wasteland of rubble and decay, with only a leather bag containing various trinkets, a gun and a parasol. She sleeps and wakes to the sound of a loud bell, and speaks for most of the play in a cheerful, positive monologue about her daily routine, which consists of brushing her teeth and hair, looking in a mirror, praying, and occasionally speaking to her largely unseen husband, Willie (Carmen Melillo ’09, whose performance was flawless).
Dressed in a fashionable dress and sporting red lipstick, Paladino’s Winnie tends to wear an elastic, ear-to-ear smile, confronting the staggering reality of her situation with laughter. Sometimes, however, notes of bitterness crept into Paladino’s voice. This bitterness, though believable, is not really indicated in the text of the first half of the play, and, at times, slightly detracted both from Winnie’s seemingly happy relationship with Willie and her own existential plight.
In contrast to the decay all around her, Winnie is mostly exuberant: one gets the feeling that, were she not confined to her hole, she would stand up and dance—or maybe run away. Waving her arms, bowing her head, and sometimes swaying visibly, she is the embodiment of youthful vigor. This physicality was both the production’s greatest strength and its most telling limitation. While Paladino’s gestures kept the audience involved and laughing, they also seemed to dampen the importance of Beckett’s famous witty humor, dulling it with an element of farcical slapstick. For example, when Winnie notices an ant crawling on her, Paladino shrieks extremely loudly (out of happiness), and her ensuing gestures detract from Willie drolly labeling the event “formication” (literally, the feeling of ants crawling all over the skin, and closely resembling “fornication”). While “Happy Days” certainly has moments of farcical physical comedy—as when Winnie drops her parasol after using it to hit Willie, only to have it restored to her by Willie—it is really the words Winnie uses that are responsible for the play’s comedic and philosophical brilliance.
Paladino’s skill was most obvious not in the moments where she was moving, but rather in the moments where, with great ease and understanding, she transitioned flawlessly between tempos and emotions. These transitions, and the words that accompany them, are the heart and soul of the play, and Paladino and Barclay executed them nearly flawlessly. They manage to not only convey the existential soul of the piece, but also bring a fresh, interesting interpretation to a famously difficult play. Watching Paladino’s Winnie, one can see why Beckett, after writing the play, said, “And I thought who would cope with that and go down singing, only a woman.”
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