Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter reunite in surreal play

Forget the Circle K—  strange things are afoot at the Hudson Theatre.

Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter, who previously teamed up to play two of Hollywood’s most beloved time travelers, are now trapped in a spherical, surrealist limbo where nothing happens and everything is considered. It’s a Broadway revival of Waiting For Godot, with a most excellent duo at its center, once again considering the absurdities of life in a space with no definition.

It’s a simple enough tale to summarize: It begins on a country road, in the shadow of a large tree, where Estragon (Reeves, making his Broadway debut) struggles to remove his boot. His old pal Vladimir engages him in banter as they wait for the mysterious Godot to appear. Estragon eats a carrot. They contemplate hanging themselves. They are interrupted by Pozzo (Brandon J. Dirden), who bullies his servant Lucky (Michael Patrick Thornton). A small boy appears to inform them that Godot isn’t coming, but will surely come tomorrow. They depart — and then it all happens again the next day.

They spend a day debating what to do, resolve to do nothing at all, rinse, and repeat. It’s the plot that famously prompted Irish critic Vivian Mercier’s observation that it’s a play in which “nothing happens, twice.” And it’s a delightfully uneasy experience.

The audience is helpless as Samuel Beckett’s classic script blatantly prods at the purpose of life: the pair of friends discuss abandoning their wait, talking themselves into leaving and just as easily talk themselves out of it. And despite the monotony of it all, there is some hope to be had, plenty of meaning to be found and, perhaps more importantly, a friendship to enjoy.

Gone is the “country road” from Beckett’s script, and in its place? A literalization of the liminal space that traps Vladimir and Estragon. A plain, wooden cornucopia. The set design by Soutra Gilmour (Sunset Boulevard) unsettles in the best possible way: just like that promise of the bare road, the sphere feels vast yet contains its characters in their purgatory. And married with Jon Clark’s (Stranger Things: The First Shadow) lighting design, this leads to more than a few moments of eerie, evocative imagery. The atmosphere is particularly haunting when the boy (a role shared by Eric Williams and Zaynn Arora) comes onstage to sweetly voice “yes, sir” and “no, sir” while delivering a devastating update.

Director Jamie Lloyd, known for stripping material bare with his modern minimalist approach, doesn’t have much to axe when it comes to Beckett’s tragicomedy, which mostly consists of conversation on an empty road. So he opts to take a humanist approach to Godot‘s absurdity, stepping away from the usual Stooge-esque versions of the characters. But that inanity, that ridiculousness is embedded in the story. So we find ourselves still watching Reeves and Winter recreate those playful moments — endlessly trade bowler hats and sliding around onstage, unable to get up after taking a spill — but its far from seamless when they trade hilarity for heartbreak.

Lloyd’s Godot makes plenty of fascinating choices, some more effective than others. The characters often stare back at the audience; the tree is nowhere to be seen; the props are pantomimed; and there is a throwaway reference to Bill & Ted, equally likely to elicit chuckles as it is to yank you from the play’s subject matter back into a world where you’re staring at Reeves and Winter’s reunion rather than Vladimir and Estragon’s despair.

This production isn’t exactly cracking the material open in any new way, but soars in one particular aspect: the friendship between its leads. Reeves and Winter are old friends playing old friends and their dynamic oozes fondness and longfelt frustration. The love and safety that Didi and Gogo find in one another is so endearing.

Reeves is a cranky, deadpanning Estragon, wallowing in frustration as his gangly limbs swing, unwillingly turning to his friend but also welcoming the help, the hugs. And Winter’s Vladimir is so open: not inherently jovial, but just as ready to embrace distraction or despair. Together, they are quippy and charming. They complain fondly and worry bluntly. Their chemistry is easy, inviting.

They aren’t entirely alone: Dirden brings big presence to Pozzo, loudly demanding attention and later stumbling around to hilarious effect. As Lucky, Thornton is a source of sly humor, then entrancing with his hefty first-act monologue. When they join the main duo on stage, Vladimir and Estragon must confront the barbarism of the world as they watch Lucky’s mistreatment. They witness, they pushback, and eventually, they participate. The real world resonance isn’t hard to spot, but shockingly, never quite lands the emotional gut punch expected from Beckett’s timeless work.

It does however make a point to remind us again and again that Vladimir and Estragon will be back onstage tomorrow, repeating the cycle, no matter how weary they’ve become by play’s end — and that hits hard.

“I can’t go on like this,” Gogo laments.

To which Didi tells him, “That’s what you think.”

It’s not Godot at its most evocative, but the delight of Reeves and Winter onstage together, bouncing off each other as easily as they did in ’89, is worth a watch. Grade: B–