Un triomphe

What if someone told you about some prisoners staging Beckett's "Waiting for Godot", with almost none of them having a passion for acting, the one even being illiterate? Surely, you wouldn't believe me. But this is what the director Jan Jönson did with a group of inmates in 1985. The result was a real triumph, and this what this French retelling of the story has as its title.

Etienne Carboni (Kad Merad) is an unemployed actor wanting to find a way to express his favourite passion. This is why he decides to go help some prisoners by teaching them how to play. Their previous instructor had only taught them some of the myths of La Fontaine, making them lose all faith in theatre. But Etienne has other things in mind; seeing them wait desperately for every day to pass, he comes up with the idea to stage a work that is itself about waiting, Beckett's aforementioned masterpiece. Of course,his ambitions are too high at first: almost none of the prisoners knows how to act, and the theatre of the absurd, with its often nonsensical dialogue, is difficult for them to understand. But they get inspired by the charismatic Etienne, and give a performance that would have made Beckett proud.

A lot stands on their way: the director of the prison (Marina Hands) puts a superhuman effort for letting the prisoners stage the play and thus gets desperate when they seem to give up. Such is the attitude of the judge (Catherine Lascault) too, who doesn't believe in the life-changing power theatre has, and because of that has to be convinced in order to let the prisoners play. Above all, every inmate has demons chasing him; there is the illiterate Jordan (Pierre Lottin), who despite his impediment gets to play the most demanding role, Patrick (David Ayala), longing for his dear wife, Moussa (Wabinlé Nabié) an immigrant searching for a better luck in France, who feels every one of his character's words as if they were really his own, Alex (Lamine Cissokho), a giant two metres tall, yet with a child's heart, and Kamel (Sofian Khammes), the most audacious of them, the leader of the group, hiding a secret behind his tough guy façade. With this team, all different as chalk and cheese, how can a successful production be made? This is why Etienne's job seems all the more impressive. He tries to build bonds between his actors, treating them like real performers and not like amateurs. He shows them something they haven't got for years; respect. And it is this respect that will motivate them to do their best.

The film is completely based on the performances. Without them, it would be nothing, for all the originality of the story. The actors portraying the prisoners truly immerse themselves in their roles, and deliver performances that seem more like life slices than pieces of cinema. Merad is poignant in the role of poor Etienne, and his monologue, although less intellectual than Lucky's in Beckett's pièce, is still a sample of real acting talent, full of spontaneity and emotional intensity, depicting the progression of a man who went from not putting up with his actors to admiring them for their resilience.

This resilience is countered with a vulgarity usual for prisoners, but one which gets a different meaning in this film. The inmates not only play in "Waiting for Godot", but make little additions that often transform it to a veritable comedy. Swear words, facial expressions, even extra characters more fitting to a thriller then a Beckett piece, make for a different version of the famous play. By adding all these elements, the prisoners express their tiredness; they can't wait anymore for freedom, for joy, for fun. The show isn't only a way to educate themselves, but works, as theatre often does, cathartically, freeing them from their worries while on stage. Their vulgarity and immaturity serves as a way to make their real state clear: they do have a great time playing, but behind the scenes, they are criminals, on detention for what seems like eternity, not being able to make a step without supervision. This film surely doesn't condone criminal actions; it just shows the human side behind those behind bars. While it may feel condescending at first, with the prisoners' childish behaviour being just an easy way to feel pity for them, it goes on to show how they can shine when given real motives.

When Samuel Beckett learnt of the amateur actors' additions to his play, he said (and here I'm paraphrasing): "This is the best thing to happen to my work". Indeed, it was. The theatre of the absurd, usually reserved for intellectuals, got remade in a version intended for ordinary people. It was a gentle act of love towards Beckett's original play, from some people that didn't fully grasp its meaning. This, of course, didn't matter in the end. The performance was, like the film, a triumph. It truly deserves a standing ovation.