Waiting for Godot! What a breathtaking, illuminating, legendarily perfect play. And it qualifies as a true piece of art: the longer you study it, the more patterns and ideas and morals and lessons and beauty falls out of it. I love it.
All the characters in the play are as important as their names are long. Supposing this, Vladimir equals Estragon, Pozzo equals Lucky, and Boy is not too damn important. Vladimir is the man of the mind, always abstracting information and presenting it in the form of rhetorical questions. Vladimir is the only one in the play with a sense of time; Estragon can remember nothing. Pozzo has lost his watch. Vladimir has bad breath. Vladimir has a perspective which the others lack.
Estragon’s feet swell up. Estragon can think in the limited reality that is the stage. Estragon cannot think. Estragon can dance. Estragon represents the concrete.
I think Pozzo is Godot, although we’ll never know for sure; Pozzo is the living status relationship. He needs a Lucky or else he can’t be cruel. Lucky is the tragedy made clear, and the other characters cannot perceive Lucky’s tragedy due to their own.
I have plotted this play in my mind. A tree and a rock. The tree is Vladimir’s. The rock is Estragon’s.