Giorni felici

by Samuel Beckett, Carlo Fruttero (Translator), Renato Oliva (Translator)

«Interrata fin sopra alla vita, esattamente al centro del monticello, Winnie. Sulla cinquantina, ben conservata, preferibilmente bionda, braccia e spalle nude, corpetto scollato, seno generoso, giro di perle. Sta dormendo, le braccia davanti a sé, per terra, la testa sulle braccia. Accanto a lei, alla sua sinistra, una sporta nera molto capace, e alla sua destra un parasole retrattile, col manico che sporge dal fodero». Queste le indicazioni di scena dello stesso Beckett per Winnie, una delle due voci dialoganti di Giorni felici. Nel suo chiacchiericcio cantilenante, nei repentini cambiamenti di umore, nella banalità insensata delle sue raccomandazioni al marito WiIlie, si ritrova un'ennesima straordinaria esplorazione beckettiana della vita, ai margini della follia.

Genres: Plays, Drama, Theatre, Classics, Fiction, Irish Literature, Ireland

63 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1961

About the author

Novels of Samuel Barclay Beckett, Irish writer, include Murphy in 1938 and Malone Dies in 1951; a wider audience know his absurdist plays, such as Waiting for Godot in 1952 and Krapp's Last Tape in 1959, and he won the Nobel Prize of 1969 for literature.

Samuel Barclay Beckett, an avant-garde theater director and poet, lived in France for most of his adult life. He used English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black gallows humor.

People regard most influence of Samuel Barclay Beckett of the 20th century. James Augustine Aloysius Joyce strongly influenced him, whom people consider as one modernist. People sometimes consider him as an inspiration to many later first postmodernists. He is one of the key in what Martin Esslin called the "theater of the absurd". His later career worked with increasing minimalism.

People awarded Samuel Barclay Beckett "for his writing, which—in new forms for the novel and drama—in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation".

In 1984, people elected Samuel Barclay Bennett as Saoi of Aosdána.

Reviews

[Fergus, Weaver of Autistic Webs · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think Sam Beckett wrote this masterpiece in the vain hope of exorcising the demons his control-freak old Mum implanted in him. From the tenor of his later plays, one can only imagine it worked for a while.

That's good as far as it goes, but it never evicted his Black Dog of Despair along with the rue she seems to have instilled in his heart. And "le Coeur a ses raisons que l'esprit ne connais point!" You can't be right when you're wrong.

I know, I BELIEVED as a kid - and I still do, due to my autistic traces - that my Heart Was Always Right. So I still love Mom and Dad with all my heart. That'll get you peace of mind if you do it too.

Beckett seems to DISDAIN the memories of his own "Winnie and Willie." But you can't be right when you're wrong...

Forgive, and OPEN UP A FRESH NEW CHAPTER IN YOUR LIFE!

So, of course by now, you Know where I'm coming from:

I AM Winnie.To a T. I always try to see the Bright Side!

Nor am I ashamed of it.

And I left Beckett "wrestling with the devil of the stairs who wears the deceitful face of hope and despair," as I ascended the Third Staircase. You can see that reference in the poem Ash Wednesday online...

But I left him in his pain.
***

But now a similar pain often plagues me, in my own elderly years, and it - like Beckett's pain - arises from the Same Compassion that fuelled his oeuvre -

The compassion of a heart broken over mankind's madness -

But WITHOUT any black despair.

For our pain and heartbreak will ALL come out in the Wash...

When Love regains its Throne, as it does here - however lonely and misused it is - in Happy Days.

For Beckett always makes our abject horror of modernity and its futile modern internecine warfare the Ground of Wide Awake Grace!

[Jon Nakapalau · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this and then watched the Broadway Theatre Archive production featuring Irene Worth. One of the most depressing works I have ever had the opportunity to encounter. There is much debate as to the meaning of the play - here is my interpretation: by 'grounding' ourselves into a 'happy' existence we are actually subordinating our essence...and that will ultimately destroy who we really were becoming. "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons" is the way most of us will pass from our existence...most of us will not even "...rage against the dying of the light" because our light died long before we did - metaphysical zombies. No more talk of Mr. Beckett until after Christmas...(something tells me Mr. Beckett would have LOVED to be the top elf for Krampus!)

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

I still remember the first time I ever got to read a play, it was Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, of which I thought was only OK, not because it wasn't any good, but because I so wanted to see it performed, reading any play isn't going to be anywhere near as good as seeing it with one's own eyes up on the stage. I said to myself I will never read another play again so help me God. However, over time, I asked myself the question - realistically, how many plays am I ever going to see? I've seen a few pretty amateurish productions, but the chances are most of the great plays I will simply never get to witness. So then, the next best thing is to read them, that's a no brainer. Sixty-five plays I have later, and along comes Beckett's Happy Days.

I knew he had his roots in creating oddly absurd, existential and avant-garde theatre from reading a couple of his other plays, but nothing prepared me for just how engaging Happy Days would turn out to be. The play tells the story of Winnie – a lonely, desolate, compulsive talker, who is stuck for unknown reasons up to her waist in a mound of earth, whilst her husband, Willie, an almost muted hermit, remains pretty much hidden. Each day begins the same as any any other, triggered by the strident sound of a bell. Winnie then begins her routine in a very meticulous and exact way. Cleaning herself, checking her belongings, speaking aloud to Willie and herself, enduring the baking hot sun. This behaviour is moulded throughout with a sense of tragicomedy, but it's also somewhat mind-bending. Things carry on this way until act number 2, where Winnie is now buried up to her neck.

Beckett's play is largely thought to be about marriage, and the title ‘Happy Days’ is very much an ironic label. Reading the play I found a number of other themes and metaphors that could easily be applied. Considering the main character is physically stuck the whole time, there is actually a great deal of liveliness. Indeed, Beckett’s stage directions are so frequent and so prescriptive, that Winnie’s actions are just as important as her words.

Beckett gets the thumbs up from me. Happy Days!.

[Luís · Rating 4 out of 5]

Somebody had said that Happy Days was Beckett’s response to a friend who asked him to write a happy play. Beckett wrote that it was hard to separate the comic from the tragic, but said that comedy, with its “intuition of the absurd,” was more despairing because it offers no way out. Whereas a tragedy traditionally ends with a death. The lead characters in Godot and Happy Days do not die but remain on stage at the end, releasing the audience from the emotions they have felt during the play, seemingly destined to repeat their actions and words forever.

[Sofia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Πριν από μία ώρα περίπου τελείωσα απνευστί τις «Ευτυχισμένες Μέρες» του Σ. Μπέκετ και η απόφαση μου να γράψω αμέσως γι’ αυτό το έργο ήταν απολύτως συνειδητή. Είναι μία μικρή προσπάθεια να κρατήσω κάτι από όλη αυτή την μαγεία και την αίσθηση πληρότητας που σε κατακλύζει όταν ξέρεις ότι μόλις έχεις διαβάσει ένα αριστούργημα. Ας τα πάρουμε όμως τα πράγματα από την αρχή λέγοντας δυο λόγια για την πλοκή.

Μία γυναίκα, γύρω στα πενήντα, η Γουίννι ,που είναι θαμμένη ως την μέση, κοιμάται και ξυπνάει καθημερινά από τον επίμονο ήχο ενός κουδουνιού που σηματοδοτεί την έναρξη/λήξη μίας ακόμα ημέρας.  Το μοναδικό πράγμα που υπάρχει δίπλα της είναι μία μαύρη τσάντα από την οποία, κατά διαστήματα, ανασύρει διαφόρων ειδών αντικείμενα, τα περισσότερα παλιά και ταλαιπωρημένα. Κάπου στο βάθος, ελάχιστα παρών και ομιλητικός, βρίσκεται ο σύζυγός της, ο Γουίλλι, χωμένος στο δικό του λαγούμι χωρίς ο ένας να βλέπει τον άλλον.

Κάνοντας μία σύντομη έρευνα γύρω από το έργο, αναφέρεται συχνά ότι σε μία συζήτηση γύρω από τις Ευτυχισμένες Μέρες, ο Μπέκετ ισχυρίστηκε ότι το μοναδικό πλάσμα που θα άντεχε να υπομείνει όλη αυτή την δοκιμασία είναι η γυναίκα.  Για να είμαι ειλικρινής όμως δεν ξέρω κατά πόσο αναφερόταν στην κατάσταση που βλέπουμε πάνω στην σκηνή ή στον συμβολισμό που κρύβει και η σκηνή αυτή καθ’ εαυτή. Το ίδιο το έργο άλλωστε βρίθει συμβολισμών και νοημάτων.

Με τις Ευτυχισμένες Μέρες ο Μπέκετ προσεγγίζει μοναδικά την απομόνωση που επέρχεται στο ζευγάρι κάτω από το βάρος μίας αδυσώπητα μονότονης καθημερινότητας  η οποία αποδίδεται σε τρεις γραμμές, που όποιος τις έχει αισθανθεί, θα τον στοιχειώνουν για πολύ καιρό:

«Ούτε καλύτερα

Ούτε χειρότερα

Ούτε αλλαγή.»

 

Η μέρα μάλιστα που ο Γουίλλι θα αποφασίσει να της απευθύνει έστω και δύο λέξεις, είναι για εκείνη μία πραγματικά ευτυχισμένη μέρα.

«Ω εσύ λοιπόν θα μου μιλήσεις σήμερα,

Ω αυτός θα μου μιλήσει σήμερα,

Μία ευτυχισμένη μέρα έρχεται!»

Αυτή η αντίθεση ανάλαφρου τόνου- σκληρού νοήματος με σόκαρε και μ’ έκανε να θαυμάσω ακόμα περισσότερο τον Μπέκετ. Βλέπουμε μία γυναίκα να είναι τρισευτυχισμένη απλά και μόνο επειδή ο άντρας της αφιέρωσε δύο λεπτά, ίσως και λιγότερο, για να την ακούσει και ξέρουμε ότι αυτό συμβαίνει σε τόσα σπίτια, σε τόσα ζευγάρια.

Εκείνη από την πλευρά της φαίνεται να έχει πλήρη επίγνωση της κατάστασης γι’ αυτό και τον παρακαλάει να ακούει έστω και τα μισά απ’ όσα λέει. Ακόμα κι αν έχασε για πάντα έναν συνομιλητή, προσπαθεί με κάθε μέσο να κρατήσει τουλάχιστον έναν υποτυπώδη ακροατή. Αυτόν που παραμένει ο άντρας της και που κάποτε, όπως αναφέρει σε ανύποπτο χρόνο,  την αγάπησε πολύ, τώρα της αρκεί απλά να βρίσκεται «σε ακτίνα ακοής».

Δεν μπορούμε να ξέρουμε πώς και γιατί αυτή η γυναίκα βρέθηκε καλυμμένη ως την μέση, αίσθηση μου όμως είναι ότι αυτό στο οποίο βουλιάζει είναι η ίδια η ζωή που μέρα-μέρα γλιστράει από τα χέρια της. Γίνεται κλεψύδρα του ίδιου του χρόνου που της απομένει σε αυτόν τον κόσμο διατηρώντας μία φαινομενικά αμέριμνη προσέγγιση απέναντι στο αναπόφευκτο.

Η Γουίννι είναι από τις πιο αξιαγάπητες ηρωίδες που έχω συναντήσει τόσο σε θεατρικά έργα, όσο και σε μυθιστορήματα. Με όλα τα χαρακτηριστικά της μεσήλικης γυναίκας, όπως η πολυλογία, η συνειρμική σκέψη και μίας παλιάς κοπής κοκεταρία, σου γεννάει μόνο τρυφερά συναισθήματα κι ένα αμυδρό συναίσθημα ταύτισης γιατί ξέρεις ότι μοιραία θα βρεθείς στην θέση της. Κάθε μέρα είναι εκεί, σε αυτόν τον λόφο μέσα στον οποίο βουλιάζει (ήδη στην δεύτερη σκηνή είναι καλυμμένη μέχρι τον λαιμό) προσπαθώντας να φαίνεται αμέριμνη, να μιλάει για το παρελθόν, γιατί μόνο αυτό έχει, χωρίς όμως να κάνει μεγάλη σπατάλη λέξεων.

Οι λέξεις, μαζί με την μαύρη τσάντα, φαίνεται να είναι το μοναδικό της όπλο απέναντι σε αυτή την μονότονη καθημερινότητα. Η πείρα όμως που κουβαλάει, της έχει μάθει ότι πρέπει να χρησιμοποιούνται με σύνεση και να μην γίνεται αλόγιστη σπατάλη γιατί τότε θα βρεθεί αντιμέτωπη με την απόλυτη μοναξιά.

 «Λέξεις, λέξεις, λέξεις, οι λέξεις φθίνουν

Οι λέξεις αδυνατίζουν εξασθενούν εξαντλούνται τελειώνουν

Οι λέξεις αποτυγχάνουν απογοητεύουν προδίδουν

Οι λέξεις φθείρονται, φθίνουν

Οι λέξεις σε παρατούν,

Είναι φορές που ακόμα και αυτές σε εγκαταλείπουν.»

Τον κύριο Μπέκετ βέβαια δεν τον εγκατέλειψαν στιγμή σε αυτό το έργο. Περιττό να πω ότι σας το συστήνω ανεπιφύλακτα.

 

[Helga · Rating 4 out of 5]

How can one better magnify the Almighty than by sniggering with him at his little jokes, particularly the poorer ones?

A heartbreakingly sad play

Oh this is a happy day! This will have been another happy day! After all. So far.

Happy Days is a tragicomedy in two acts with only the two characters of Winnie and Willie. The play is almost a monologue, Winnie doing most of the talking and studies the meaninglessness of time, futility of life and in general, explores the human existence.

Ah earth you old extinguisher!

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

At the start of Happy Days, we see Winnie - a plump, fifty-year-old housewife of a woman – buried to her waist in the centre of a mound of earth. The sun blazes down in the form of a powerful spotlight. A barren landscape stretches into the distance. Beside Minnie on the mound are a large bag and a parasol. Throughout the play, she removes items from the bag, including a Browning automatic revolver (‘Brownie’) and a toothbrush. Halfway through the first of two short acts the parasol bursts into flames from the unrelenting heat. At the start of the play she seems to be alone, but soon we see that there is a man (Willie) on the far side of the mound, reading a newspaper, though we see only the back of his head for the whole of the first act. He only crawls over the mound to face Winnie in a dramatic and moving scene at the end of the play, when she is buried to her neck in the mound. Winnie does most of the talking, addressing many of her comments to Willie, and he responds only occasionally and briefly. When she seems to be nodding off at times she is brought awake again by an unseen bell.

At a first reading this play, like all of Beckett’s plays, leaves you with a vague sense of depression and incomprehension, though you do also feel a sense of achievement in having got through it from beginning to end and of having read something worthwhile. Subsequent readings throw up all sorts of allusions and echoes that completely escaped you the first time, and if you then (and only then) read a guide to the play you recognise it for the masterpiece it is: a highly-polished jewel, a starkly concentrated appraisal of the human condition packed into two short acts, that lesser writers would and do take volumes to laboriously spell out. Despite seeming a rambling, knocked-off-in-ten-minutes affair, it is in fact a highly sophisticated interplay of repetition and variation with leitmotifs, silence and precise movements that are all indicated in the meticulous stage directions, and is almost operatic in its effect.

Beckett is never patronising, he leaves you (perhaps somewhat dismissively) to work out for yourself what it is all about. Scratch the surface and you will find allusions to Zeno, Shakespeare, Aristotle, the Anglican Liturgy and Holy Communion and Dante, as well as The Merry Widow. You may see it, with A. Alvarez, as ‘a sour view of a cosy marriage’, or agree with The Times that ‘the text is an elaborate structure of internal harmonies with recurring clichés twisted into bitter truths, and key phrases chiming ironically through the development as in a passacaglia’. For me, it is all of these things, but perhaps most of all it is a comment on ageing, loneliness and loss. It will haunt all who see it or read it.

[philosophie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Words fail, there are times when even they fail. However, speaking is Winnie's raison d'être, words keep flowing from her without conveying any meaning, just to fill the silence and the void.

Early on, it struck me as upsetting the fact that Winnie was trying so hard to convince herself that it is a happy day, the wanting to get out of the mound and the simultaneous attachment to it.

Never have I ever come across a play whose directorial instructions are as important as the play itself. I quickly became engrossed in reading Beckett's directions and it felt as if I was watching it on scene.
I found it an exceptional avant-garde piece of art.

[hayatem · Rating 5 out of 5]

يقول وديع سعادة فالمكان ليس مساحة جغرافية فحسب، بل هو مساحة داخلية في الذات أيضاً.
«... تبدأ الحياة في اليوم الأخير. الأيام كثيرة، لكن الحياة قليلة. تتأجل من يوم إلى يوم. وحين لا يبقى غير يوم تتدفق كلها إليه علّها تحيا فيه. وهكذا تبدأ الحياة، فقط حين انتهائها. ولذلك، لن تعاش الحياة أبداً (...) تلك الأيام، التي ذهبت الآن، لم تكن غير تمرين على دخول الحياة.

بطلا المسرحية؛ ويني وويلي صورتان متضادتان عن الواقع الوجودي وصراعه بكل ما يثيره من عذابات وآلام وعبث في التصور والمخيلة و كنه الذاكرة والجسد. وبقراءة أخرى هي سيرة معاصرة عن حياة العقل وسكن النفس، تعكس عذابات وصراعات الانسان المعاصر .
ويني التي تظهر على خشبة المسرح مدفونة حتى خصرها في التل، في مركزه تحديداً، على شفا الموت، لكنها تتشبث وتتأقلم وتخلق لحظات سعيدة في مساحتها الجغرافية الخاصة من الذات والجسد وبكل الفرص المتاحة ولو كانت شحيحة، تقاوم الخواء وتحاول التماسك مع كل يوم يمضي بخلق حديث مع نفسها بسبر الذكريات واجترار الماضي، وبالحديث كذلك مع ويلي، رغبةً في التكامل معه أو لالتفاته صغيرة، لكنه هش و بالكاد يستجيب. انها تبني جسوراً مع الوحدة في محاولة لأسر الالتباسات والتشوشات النفسية، التي هي طرف مشارك فيها إلى حد بعيد . وفي قراءة أخرى، هي تجسيد لما قاله فولتير : «الكوارثُ مدهشةٌ بشكل مرعب»!
على الجانب الآخر من المسرح ويلي الذي يرقد على الأرض، نائماً يحجبه التل، ك صورةٍ مرادفة للهلع! وبالرغم من تحرره الظاهر إلا أنه عاجز عن مجاراته، من التحرر من عوائقه العالقة في الذهن، من ذلك الآخر الذي يلتهمه حياً وبشراسة "يشعرك أنه مسجون لشيء ما ولا يقدر على الفكاك منه."، ولو كانت هناك محاولات خجولة للإفلات الا أنه عجز عن هدم الجدار وسجن نفسه بنفسه. ومن الملاحظ امتلاكه مقدرة رهيبة على افساد اللحظات . وهو من منظور آخر يصور تحول الجسد ملعباً لاضطرابات النفس!

صامويل بيكيت أبدع في جوهريّ اللغة .
الترجمة رائعة.

[Carmo · Rating 5 out of 5]

" Dias Felizes é um maravilhoso poema de amor, o canto de uma mulher que ainda quer ouvir e ver o homem que ama."
Madeleine Renaud (actriz)

Dias Felizes é uma metáfora da passagem do tempo, da resistência e da sobrevivência.
Para além disso Dias Felizes é, talvez, um dos melhores trabalhos de Beckett, e Beckett é o absurdo, o discurso fragmentado, o minimalismo e aparente insignificância dos diálogos face à revelação que brota dos silêncios e das pausas.
As peças de Beckett parecem ter todas o mesmo intuito: o de nos incomodar, de nos levar ao desassossego e à interrogação, de nos provocar o riso para logo percebermos que é um riso feito de lágrimas.
E é sobretudo, acabar a leitura ou sair da sala de espetáculos com vontade de gritar e expulsar a aflição.

[leynes · Rating 2 out of 5]

Samuel, kindly, what the fuck?

***

Nach meinen initialen Ausruf versuchen wir es nun doch mal mit etwas mehr Substanz. Ich kann Beckett viel abgewinnen. Vor Jahren las ich Waiting for Godot und war verzaubert, von der Skurrilität und Absurdität des Stücks, den ständigen Wiederholungen und dem zumindest auf der Oberfläche fehlenden Sinn. Dann las ich Endgame, kam zwar etwas schwerer in die Handlung rein, konnte mich dann aber von der Adaption mit David Thewlis überzeugen lassen.

Und so wie seine beiden Vorgänger ist auch Happy Days ein kurzes, skurriles, absurdes Stück. Geschrieben 1960 wurde es ein Jahr später in New York im Cherry Lane Theater uraufgeführt. Die Winnie spielte Ruth White. Regie führte Alan Schneider, der im Jahr darauf auch Edward Albees thematisch verwandtes Erfolgsstück Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? inszenierte.

Während es die New Yorker Inszenierung auf über einhundert Vorstellungen brachte, reagierte die Kritik zwei Wochen später auf die deutsche Premiere in der Werkstatt des Berliner Schillertheaters eher hilflos. Trotzdem war die Inszenierung unter der Regie von Walter Henn dank der schauspielerischen Leistung von Berta Drews in der Hauptrolle kein Misserfolg. Heute gehört Happy Days – neben Waiting for Godot und Endgame – zu Becketts meistgespielten Stücken.

Winnie: "Another heavenly day."

Im ersten Akt steckt Winnie, "eine etwa 50-jährige, gut erhaltene Blondine", bis über die Hüfte in einem Erdhügel, der die gesamte Mitte der Bühne einnimmt. Sie schläft vornüber gebeugt, den Kopf in den Armen ruhend. Erst das lange, durchdringende Schrillen einer Klingel weckt sie aus ihrem Schlummer. Neben ihr steht eine große schwarze Einkaufstasche, aus der sie im Laufe des ersten Aktes – neben verschiedenen Hygieneartikeln, Schminkutensilien und einer Lupe – auch einen Revolver hervorkramt. Gegen die gleißende Sonne, in die das Stück von Anfang bis Ende getaucht ist, versucht sie sich mit einem kleinen Sonnenschirm zu schützen, der jedoch bald in Flammen aufgeht. Ihr Oberkörper, über dessen nackte Schultern eine Perlenkette hängt, ist bereits so steif geworden, dass sie sich nicht weit genug nach hinten wenden kann, um zu sehen, was in ihrem Rücken vor sich vorgeht.

Im zweiten Akt schaut aus dem "Grabhügel" nur noch Winnies Kopf heraus, und auch der kann nur noch Mund und Augen bewegen. Hinter dem Hügel befindet sich ihr Ehemann Willie. Während Winnie fast pausenlos monologisiert, beschränken sich die Beiträge ihres Mannes auf wenige Gesten und Worte. Er liest die Überschriften und Inserate einer alten Tageszeitung, mit der er sich ab und zu kühlende Luft zufächelt, und beantwortet Winnies Fragen einsilbig oder gar nicht. Einmal lässt er sich zu ein paar krächzenden Tönen eines Liedchens hinreißen, dann schweigt er lange, sodass Winnie schon vermutet, er sei gestorben. Erst in der Schlussminute verlässt er seine Deckung und kommt auf allen vieren, aber in voller Abendgarderobe hervorgekrochen und versucht, begleitet von Winnies Anfeuerungsrufen, den Hügel zu erklimmen, um ihr Gesicht zu erreichen. Vergeblich. Er rutscht ab und bleibt erschöpft, mit dem Gesicht nach unten, ihr zu Füßen liegen. Als er wieder Kraft genug gesammelt hat, um wenigstens den Kopf zu heben, flüstert er ein einziges Mal, kaum hörbar, ihren Namen. Die beiden Alten starren sich lange und reglos an, bis der Vorhang gefallen ist.

In den Stücken von Beckett geht es um die menschliche Existenz. Diese inszeniert er als Grenzsituation zwischen Leben und Tod. In seinen Stücken finden wir Figuren, die auf der ewig enttäuschten Illusion des Wartens beharren oder in tragikomischer Hilflosigkeit die Gewissheit ihres Verfalls überspielen.

In Happy Days scheinen immer wieder "die guten alten Zeiten" durch, wir erhaschen Bruchstücke von Erinnerungen an die Vergangenheit: an den ersten Kuss, an Winnies Puppe Dolly und an die zwei Menschen, die sich hierher verirrten und Winnie begafften. Wir erfahren durch Winnies Ausflüche, dass es sich hierbei um ein neugieriges Ehepaar gehandelt habe, dass sich respektlos hinter ihrem Rücken zu fragen wagte, warum sie in der Erde stecke, ob sie darunter nackt sei, warum Willie sie nicht ausgrabe und was das alles zu bedeuten habe – all jene Fragen, die auch das Publikum umtreiben.

Die Absurdität dieser Tragikomödie manifestiert sich äußerlich schon darin, dass sich die beiden Restmenschen – sie nur noch ein Torso, dann nur noch Kopf; er nicht mehr homo erectus, sondern nur noch ein röchelnder Vierbeiner – trotz ihrer aussichtslosen Lage weiter einbilden, "glückliche Tage" zu erleben, ihre Festtagskleidung nicht ablegen, sich mit sentimentalen Liedchen über die Wirklichkeit hinwegtäuschen, immer noch wie elektrisiert auf schwächste Lebenszeichen reagieren und neue Hoffnung schöpfen. Besonders Winnie, die all ihre Zeit auf die Pflege und Kosmetik ihres verfallenden, buchstäblich in einem Grab versinkenden Körpers verwendet und so gleichsam eine permanente Selbstmumifizierung betreibt, dokumentiert die Paradoxie der Situation und die Naivität der Protagonistin. Aber auch Willie, dessen letztes Aufflackern sexueller Gier – als grotesker Höhe- und Endpunkt – noch einmal einen Funken von lächerlicher Vitalität aus ihm schlägt, unterstreicht die traurig skurrile Karikatur der Spezies Mensch.

Ich fand das Stück unheimlich schwierig zu lesen. Winnies endloser Monolog ging mir auf die Nerven. Ich kam nicht wirklich hinterher. Ihr Gebrabbel machte für mich wenig Sinn. "Tedious" wäre das Wort, mit dem ich ihren Monolog (und somit das Stück) beschreiben würde, hätte ich mich für eine englische Rezension entschieden. Ich habe kaum etwas angestrichen, insgesamt fanden nur 6 Sticky Tabs ihren Weg in dieses Buch. Es war zäh. Das einzige Zitat, das hängenblieb, ist Winnies Beschreibung vom Leben (bzw. der human condition): "... something something laughing wild amid severest woe." Das finde ich toll, weil treffend. Auf eine Art unglaublich optimistisch, auf die andere Art unheimlich traurig. Das beschreibt's doch eigentlich wirklich ganz gut.

[Katya]

Beckett surpreendeu-me. Com uma forma de representar a vida despojada de simbologia, acabou por criar uma obra que se fixa, e que fixa o espectador/leitor naquele momento. Dias Felizes funciona como uma espécie de técnica de mindfulness levada a cena.
No palco apenas dois personagens: Winnie e Willie, casal de meia idade, de costas voltadas um para o outro. A primeira enterrada pela cintura, ancorada à vida, ancorada ao espaço, ancorada ao palco, qual um Prometeu agrilhoado, é a heroína trágica por excelência. À volta, em "campo de erva queimada", tudo é luz crua e um saco "negro e grande" de variados objetos que compõem a vida do casal: pentes, escovas, espelhos que, no final do dia, retornam sempre ao lugar de origem como por magia, e, lá no fundo, um revólver que existe como sombra de um possível suicídio que nunca se concretiza (uma piscadela de olho ao absurdo de À Espera de Godot).

___
WINNIE

Deixá-lo, não tem importância, é o que eu digo sempre: isso há de voltar... eis o que eu acho maravilhoso: tudo volta... (Pausa.) Tudo? (Pausa.) Não, nem tudo. (Sor riso.) Não, não. (Fim do sorriso.) Não completamente. (Pausa.) Uma parte. (Pausa.) Regressa, um belo dia, não se sabe de onde. (Pausa.) Das nuvens. (Pausa.) Eis o que eu acho maravilhoso.
32
___

Winnie repete, em dois atos, as mesmas palavras, desfia as mesmas recordações - ou a falta delas; hipnotiza quem a escuta e vê através de pequenos trejeitos, hábitos adquiridos ao longo de uma vida que, percebemos, se fez dedicada a um homem. Por isso não é de estranhar que no final, quando já só restam as palavras, Winnie ainda estrebuche no buraco onde está enterrada (agora até ao pescoço!); Winnie resiste: novamente, Prometeu não lhe fica mal associado - ambos são rebeldes, resilientes -; Winnie não desiste de tentar reerguer pontes entre si e o homem que não consegue ver, mas que sabe ali.

____
WINNIE

(...) o tempo é de Deus e meu. (Pausa.) De Deus e meu. (Pausa) Estranha expressão... (Pausa.) Poderá dizer-se? (Voltando-se um pouco para o lado de Willie) Achas que se pode dizer, Willie, que o tempo é de Deus e nosso? (Pausa. Voltando-se mais e mais forte.) Tu eras capaz de dizer tempo é de Deus e teu?

(Longa pausa.)

WILLIE

Era.


WINNIE

(Alegre, voltando-se para a frente.)

Ah, ele hoje fala... vai ser um dia feliz! (Pausa. Fim da expressão feliz.) Mais um dia feliz. (Pausa.)
34
___

Dias Felizes, pelo número e rigidez de indicações cénicas deverá ser das peças mais desafiantes de trabalhar; a limitação física forçará atores e encenadores a uma abordagem psicológica do texto e a resoluções pouco usuais que no fim, decerto, só podem reforçar a força de Winnie e o vínculo entre ela, aqueles que a encarnam e os que a encaram.

____
WINNIE

Ter sido sempre a mesma que sou hoje - e tão diferente daquela que fui. (Pausa.) Sou uma, digo eu: sou uma e a seguir sou a outra (Pausa.) Ora uma, ora a outra. (Pausa.) Há tão poucas coisas a dizer. (Pausa) Dizemos tudo o que podemos. (Pausa.) E nada é verdade, seja onde for (Pausa.)
54

[blckshrt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow... this left me all depressed and disillusioned about life, death and everything in between!


What I like is that the play begins with a surreal and bizarre situation and this doesn't clear up. This kind of makes you imagine all kinds of reasons why and how the woman and her husband are stuck there and living like that. There is so much in this play that makes it worth to read or see!

Winnie seems swallowed by the earth, can't walk first and in act two can't move anything but her head, and still is full of positive talk. Showing how people no matter what go on with life and talk hopeful and positive-saying how enjoyable things are- when you can't imagine how they endure it all. Winnie is still trying to look good and talks about happy days that will still occur. But doing and saying this all in such a fake manner as if trying to convince herself in believing the make believe (crap) she utters. She is stuck with her husband who seems apathetic in his ways and pays little attention to her. He too seems stuck to her, but why?, just because once he had proposed and she said yes. Making marriage a shameful reason to stay with someone. And even if Winnie knows her husbands needs peace, she calls him all the time wanting a reaction of some kind because that is what she needs.
Also the every day routine: brushing teeth, combing, make up etc is made so meaningless and empty. The way that Winnie does these routine activities makes it even more horrible as she seems to do it to pass time, get through the day and to avoid feeling the void/loneliness/emptiness of existence/her handicap - in other words the reality. She even forgets if she did or did not comb, what does it matter?
Both husband and wife pining away waiting for their own and each others death, sometimes long for it and sometime fearing it.
What also was interesting to me was when Winnie was saying how absurd it was that she had to wake at the sound of a bell and sleep at the sound of the bell. And why not wake or sleep when she felt like it? Still she continued to do so.
And oh the loneliness! how the couple doesn't really communicate, and is so isolated and seems lonely, still there is sometimes the comfort of another person, however there are occasions that you think they wouldn't mind getting rid of the other. At the end of the play I thought Willie would shoot Winnie, himself or both of them. But not doing so made it much stronger as it showed how awful and miserable the situation, people mostly endure and just wait until life is over by itself. Also you kind of feel there is no point to their lives.

Even concerns about the environment and the future of the earth are addressed: Winnie says "do you think there is no atmosphere?", the post apocalyptic scenery, them living in a hole/cave and the fact that it is always light so you know when to wake/sleep if you hear a bell??? To me these bizarre elements made it not only surrealistic but maybe a leap in the future, as if it were a science fiction. Then again maybe it was only meant as: why not question the houses we live in or the day/night rhythm we have just because we think we do it "right and according to how it is meant". Why do we think things are meant a way? For what purpose? What does it all lead to anyway?

What I found interesting was that I read that some people thought the play ended optimistic.. I really did not feel that way and would find it interesting to hear why some people thought this way.

[Astraea · Rating 3 out of 5]

«روزهای خوش» داستان زن و مردی میانسال است که با هم زندگی می‌کنند. زن مدام در حال صحبت و تک‌گویی است و مرد زیاد صحبت نمی‌کند و در تکرار شرایط زندگی زن، بیان اندک جملاتی از مرد باعث می‌شود که زن آن روز را روز خوش خود بداند. با پیش رفتن داستان زن در تکرار زمان و زندگی باز هم امیدوار است تا روزی خوش داشته باشد. زن مدام حرف میزند ولی مرد ساکت است و هردو در پیله تنهایی خو اسیرند.
وینی و ویلی محبوس در میان حفره ها هستند. پاهای ویلی آزاد است و اگر بخواهد میتواند وینی را از حفره دراورد و هردو بروند....از انجا فرار کنند اما هردواسیر خاک و سکون و سکوتند و گویا منتظر....منتظر روزهای خوش نداشته!

[Makis Dionis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ένα λυρικό ψυχογραφημα , μια σκιαγράφηση της ύπαρξης και της ανυπαρξίας κ το ερώτημα που τίθεται στο τέλος είναι:

Ποιες είναι οι πραγματικά ευτυχισμένες μέρες ?

Την καλύτερη απάντηση θα μπορούσαμε να βρούμε , σίγουρα όμως όχι μοναδική, αν βάζαμε τον Γουίλι να απαντήσει

[Ana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Das muitas coisas boas que o meu projecto literário LinkedBooks me deixou, foi o gosto por ler teatro. Mas Samuel Beckett não foi um autor que tenha adorado à primeira...nem à segunda...(Krapp's Last Tape & Embers), e só agora nesta terceira peça me parece que poderei ter começado a entender a genialidade do autor.

Depois desta leitura concluo que o teatro naturalista, ou pelo menos as peças de Beckett não são para serem apenas lidas. A palavra é aqui, apenas um dos muitos instrumentos e recursos utilizados para transmitir a mensagem, sem ser sequer o recurso central ou o mais essencial.

Lida, parece-me que perde a sua força, a sua intenção inicial, o fim para o qual o autor a concebeu e idealizou.

Imaginem se no livro que estão a ler agora, lessem frase sim frase não, e talvez entendam um pouco melhor o que estou a tentar dizer...ou não.😂

Apesar de tudo isso, Dias Felizes de Samuel Beckett deixou em mim uma forte impressão, e penso ter finalmente conseguido lobrigar o talento excepcional deste autor.

Notas:
i) A propósito desta leitura foi-me informado (obrigada Ana Carina!) que seria essencial a leitura de À Espera de Godot, peça sobre a qual já ouvi muito falar e por isso a acrescentei à "to read". Contudo, o que eu gostaria mesmo era ir ao teatro vê-la (de preferência com amigos, porque se for como as anteriormente lidas, dará "pano para mangas" para conversa). Sr. Covid, veja lá se entende esta dica para se pôr a milhas... (que mais será preciso para ele entender que nunca foi bem-vindo?? 😂 )

ii) Da leitura do prefácio a esta edição fiquei curiosa com a peça Hedda Gabler de Ibsen (outro autor fundamental que quero descobrir).

iii) Menina Júlia de Strindberg também foi mencionada no prefácio, peça que já li, mas sobre a qual nunca cheguei a escrever uma review...espero conseguir colmatar essa falta brevemente.

[Taghreed Jamal El Deen · Rating 4 out of 5]

ربع وقتي مع الكتاب مضى في قراءته، وثلاثة أرباعه الأخرى بالتأمل الذاهل في السقف والجدران بعد كل مقطع.
أن تكون على قيد شعرة بين الحضور البائس أو الغياب، بين التمسك الهزيل بالوجود أو التلاشي. أن تشعر بنفسك تطفو في العدم، متجهاً نحو تلك الهاوية الجذابة بخفة وصفاء عظيمان.

لولا أن معرفتي بمجال المسرح ضئيلة، لقلت أن بيكيت أعظم كاتب مسرحي على الإطلاق.

[عماد العتيلي · Rating 4 out of 5]

‏

“If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.”

Happy days! LOL!
I like this play. I consider myself a big fan of the absurd theatre – it represents life as it is.



Winnie and her husband Willie, represented most people nowadays – sinking in their daily routines without having any purpose.

Reading the dialogue between them was a pleasure for me, I enjoyed it. I think it was simple and meaningful. I think Happy Days is more beautiful than Beckett’s most famous play Waiting for Godot. I liked it more.

[Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

"O que eu acho maravilhoso é não se passar um dia (Sorriso.) para falar à moda antiga (Fim do sorriso.) quase nenhum, sem aprendermos qualquer coisa, por pouco que seja, desde que nos esforcemos por isso. E se, por razões obscuras, o mais pequeno esforço deixasse de ser possível, então é só fechar os olhos (Fecha-os.) e esperar que o dia chegue, o dia feliz em que a carne se derrete a tantos graus e a noite de luar dura tantas centenas de horas. (Pausa.) Eis o que eu acho reconfortante, quando perco a coragem e começo a invejar a sorte dos animais a caminho do matadouro."

[Marchpane · Rating 5 out of 5]

...

Is gravity what it was, Willie, I fancy not. [Pause.] Yes, the feeling more and more that if I were not held—[gesture]—in this way, I would simply float up into the blue. [Pause.] And that perhaps some day the earth will yield and let me go, the pull is so great, yes, crack all round me and let me out. [Pause.] Don’t you ever have that feeling, Willie, of being sucked up? [Pause.] Don’t you have to cling on sometimes, Willie? [Pause. She turns a little towards him.] Willie. [Pause.]

…

Ah yes, so little to say, so little to do, and the fear so great, certain days, of finding oneself . . . left, with hours still to run, before the bell for sleep, and nothing more to say, nothing more to do, that the days go by, certain days go by, quite by, the bell goes, and little or nothing said, little or nothing done. [Raising parasol.] That is the danger. [Turning front.] To be guarded against. [She gazes front, holding up parasol with right hand. Maximum pause.]

...

With the sun blazing so much fiercer down, and hourly fiercer, is it not natural things should go on fire never known to do so, in this way I mean, spontaneous like. [Pause.] Shall I myself not melt perhaps in the end, or burn, oh I do not mean necessarily burst into flames, no, just little by little be charred to a black cinder, all this—[ample gesture of arms]—visible flesh. [Pause.] On the other hand, did I ever know a temperate time? [Pause.] No.

[Ο σιδεράς · Rating 5 out of 5]

 «Τι είναι αυτός ο θόρυβος;»
Ο αγέρας κάτω απ’ την πόρτα.
«Τι είναι αυτός ο θόρυβος τώρα; Τι κάνει ο αγέρας;»
Τίποτε πάλι τίποτε.
T. S./ Eliot, Έρημη Χώρα, 1922 (μετ. Γ. Σεφέρη).
Η Γουίνι μονολογεί συνεχώς· κάπου σε απόσταση ακοής βρίσκεται ο σύντροφος της Γουίλι. Όσο κι αν μιλάει, συνεχίζει να βυθίζεται στη γη - κάτι που δεν σταματάει με τις παύσεις της, την προσευχή, την καλή ή κακή της διάθεση. Δεν σταματάει με τίποτα..
Μια θεατρική εμπειρία που δεν συνοδεύεται εύκολα με ποπ κορν.   Ο χρόνος τον οποίο φοβόμαστε κι ο χρόνος που επιθυμούμε, ο Άλλος, τον οποίο έχουμε ή είχαμε κάποτε ανάγκη· και η απόγνωση, φθορά, δύναμη, ανοησία και σοφία του εαυτού.. Η προοδευτική ταύτιση παρελθόντος και παρόντος, η απώλεια της ικανότητας/θέλησης για αντιστοίχηση των λέξεων με αντικείμενα και καταστάσεις.  Ο Μπέκετ δεν αστειεύεται..
Με το “Ευτυχισμένες μέρες” δείχνει -για μένα τουλάχιστον- προς την ίδια κατεύθυνση με τον Έλιοτ:
……….
Μια στοίβα σπασμένες εικόνες, όπου χτυπάει ο ήλιος,
Και δε σου δίνει σκέπη το πεθαμένο δέντρο, κι ο γρύλος ανακούφιση,
Κι η στεγνή πέτρα ήχο νερού. Μόνο
Έχει σκιά στον κόκκινο τούτο βράχο,
(Έλα κάτω απ’ τον ίσκιο του κόκκινου βράχου),
Και θα σου δείξω κάτι διαφορετικό
Κι από τον ίσκιο σου το πρωί που δρασκελάει ξοπίσω σου
Κι από τον ίσκιο σου το βράδυ που ορθώνεται να σ’ ανταμώσει
Μέσα σε μια φούχτα σκόνη θα σου δείξω το φόβο.

[Yasmeen · Rating 3 out of 5]

مكانش مود عبثية ولا صامويل بيكيت خالص 🤦🏻‍♀
الذنب ذنبي.. ماهو انا لو مختارتش حاجة تزهقني بزيادة و انا already زهقانة مبقاش ياسمين 🤷🏻‍♀
و لإني فاهمة دماغ بيكيت و دي مش تجربتي الأولى معاه؛ هديها 3 نجوم بالرغم إني تجتاحني رغبة شديدة ف الذهاب لقطع شرايني ناو، كتّر خير الدنيا 😢
سلام 🚶🏻‍♀

[Bruno Kulić · Rating 1 out of 5]

The reason for a one star rating, presented without comment:
-no pain- (looks for toothbrush)-
hardly any- (takes up toothbrush)-great
thng that- (examines handle of brush) -
nothg like it- (examines handle, reads) -
pure .. . what?-(pause) - what?- (lays
down brush)-ah yes- (turns towards bag)
-poor Wilie- (rumages in bag)-no zest
- (rummages)-for anythig-(brings out
spectacles in case)-no interest-(turs back
front) -in lie -(takes spectacles from case)
-poor dear Wilie- (lays down case) - sleep
for ever-( opens spectacles)-marvellous gift
- (puts on spectacles)-nothig to touch it­
(looks for toothbrush)-in my opinion-
(takes up toothbrush)-always said so­
(examines handle of brush)-wish I had it
- (examines handle, reads)-genuie . . .
pure . . . what?- (lays down brush)-blnd
next- (takes off spectacles)-ah well- (lays
down spectacles)-seen enough- (feels in
bodice for handkerchief) - I suppose- (takes
out folded handkerchief)-by now- (shakes
out handkerchief)-what are those wonderful
lines- (wipes one eye) - woe woe is me­
(wipes the other) - to see what I see- (looks
for spectacles) - ah yes-(takes up spectacles)
- wouldn't ms it - (starts polishing
spectacles, breathing on lenses) - or would I ?
- (polishes) - holy light - (polishes) - bob
up out of dark - (polishes) - blaze of hellsh
light.

[J. · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is bullshit.
Saw this live with a talented cast, and by that I mean one actress. Perhaps I'm one of those incompetent dilettante who is too dumb to appreciate Beckett's genius, but I can honestly say this has no redeemable qualities. None whatsoever. If you left the performance 5, 15, 25, or 35 minutes into the play, or stayed at the end, it wouldn't have made a difference. Historical and philosophical allusions aside, this is complete drivel. People like clever writers and clever plays, but I think sometimes the emperor really has no clothes. It is interesting to see reviewers bashing themselves over not understanding this, never daring to concede that perhaps there is nothing there to understand. No profundity, just a joke on us, that we are willing to see a Becket play because Becket wrote it, and then ponder continuously thinking there must be some profound meaning within. There is no depth, just garbage. If you cut out words from a newspaper and threw them on a page randomly, I think it would make for a more enjoyable performance. At least that would be truly absurd.

[Remco Sleiderink · Rating 4 out of 5]

Deze eerste echte kennismaking met het toneel van Samuel Beckett – waar veel collega’s van het Departement Letterkunde rond werken – was aangenaam. Door de enorm talrijke en gedetailleerde toneelaanwijzingen tussen de woorden van de twee personages (Winnie en Willie) is het wellicht aantrekkelijker om het stuk te zien en te horen dan te lezen, maar dat zal dan voor een andere keer zijn (op Youtube vond ik wel een volledige Engelstalige opvoering met Russische ondertitels).

Ik las Gelukkige dagen/Happy days omdat Niña Weijers er in De consequenties veelvuldig aan refereert. Weijers maakt daarbij gebruik van zowel de Nederlands- als de Engelstalige versie van het stuk. Daarmee nodigt ze uit om de hoofdpersonages (Winnie en Minnie) met elkaar te vergelijken, maar de intertekstuele verbanden roepen eveneens vragen op over de rol van Dr. Johnstone (in Happy Days: Mr. Johnson, or Johnston, or perhaps I should say Johnstone) en het belang van (ook literaire) herInneringen. Is de levenshouding van Winnie en Minnie positief en leidt die tot geluk? Het einde van Gelukkige dagen/Happy Days is een toneelaanwijzing die zowel op wanhoop als berusting kan duiden: ‘Pauze. Gelukkige gelaatsuitdrukking verdwijnt. Ze sluit ogen. Bel klinkt luid. Ze opent de ogen. Ze glimlacht, staart voor zich uit. Ze richt haar ogen glimlachend op Willie die, nog altijd op handen en knieën liggend, naar haar opkijkt. Glimlach verdwijnt. Ze kijken elkaar aan. Lange pauze’.

[Cody · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a Brian Eno biography, a story is told of he and John Cale out to dinner and out of their minds on coke. Cale, at the time concurrently slipping further into alcoholism, was already known by this point for cutting an infamous figure; just watch footage of him tearing up the floorboards on Rockpalast for a taste of pretty obvious cocaine psychosis-terror. Or, you know, listen to anything after Paris 1919. Anyhow—Cale sets the check on fire and all hell breaks out in the restaurant. Cale doesn’t take well to the management’s policy on arson, let’s say, and a proper kerfuffle, with flames, ensues. Throughout the entire affair, Eno is caught in a fit of laughter he can’t control. The only thing he is heard to snort out during this spasm of hysterics is, ‘Oh, horseplay!” Repeatedly.

This play is Brian Eno watching John Cale wrestle with fire. Oh, horseplay!

[Talie · Rating 5 out of 5]

وینی در حال فرو رفتن است. زمین دارد او را می بلعد. او فقط دلش می خواهد حرف بزند. حرف های تکه تکه،  کمی خاطرات دور، تکراری. ( همان حرف های بکتی) ابتدا که دست هایش آزاد است به اسلحه ای که در کیفش است بر می خورد.  ولی آدم های بکت عرضه ی خودکشی ندارند. منتظرند. وسواس تکرار دارند. وینی منتظر صدای زنگی است که وقت خواب و بیداری را اعلام می کند. وینی حرف می زند. حرف می زند. فقط یک گوش می خواهد. ویلی گوش اوست. در پرده ی اول تکه هایی از روزنامه و کلاه و دستش را میبینیم. چرا ویلی در سوراخش فرو رفته؟ چرا وینی را نجات نمی دهد از بلعیده شدن توسط زمین؟ آنها فقط می توانند باهم انتظار بکشند. اینجا نجاتی نیست. فقط انتظار پایان.   

[Haman · Rating 4 out of 5]

اگر می توانستم تنهایی را تحمل کنم خوب بود. با خودم حرف بزنم. هیچ کس هم نباشد بشنود... البته می دانم تو هم چندان چیزی نمی شنوی... اما روزهایی هم هست که جواب می دهی... بنابرین من همیشه می توانم بگویم، حتی وقتی مه جواب هم نمی دهی، شاید هم هیچ چیزی نمی شنوی، می توانم بگویم که بعضی از حرفهایم شنیده می شود، که هیچ وقت مدت درازی حرف نزده ام، فقط با خودم، تو بر برهوت، چون این را هیچ نمی توانم تحمل کنم... این است که می توانم ادامه بدهم، یعنی به حرف زدنم ادامه بدهم.

[Anisha Inkspill · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a solemn comedy, Winnie and Willie are mostly buried in sand. From the moment Winnie wakes she does not stop talking, Willie contributes very little and spends most of his time not facing Winnie or listening to her. Ultimately, Winnie is alone with very little to do but keeps cheerful, as the play unfolds this cheeriness has a bitter sour to it.

I came across this play when it was first televised, it was part of the Beckett on Film project. The staging is dynamic but the drama comes from Winnie’s chatty nature and her struggle to fill the void of the endless hours by distracting herself with memories and staying busy with daily routines to feels tragic. More so, when she is alert to every new thing Willie does and voices pleasures. Where the moment passes as quickly as it comes highlighting the fragility of her happiness.

Reading this was harder than watching it. It’s a wonderful play but it took me a while to get my bearings as the dialogue is constantly broken up with (sometimes very prescriptive) direction. However, reading this made me see clearer the struggle Winnie has to keep feeling alive, a challenge as she is stuck and cannot dig herself out (and accepts that Willie can do nothing to help her either). Regardless, she soldiers on, determined to stay positive, but her predicament makes her happiness sobering.

An extract from Act One:

WINNIE:
… Willie, speaking of your hair, them or it? (Pause.) The hair on your head, I mean. (Pause. Turning a little further.) The hair on your head, Willie, what would you say speaking of the hair on your head, them or it?

Long pause.

WILLIE:
It.

WINNIE:
(turning back front, joyful) Oh you are going to talk to me today, this is going to be a happy day! (Pause. Joy off.) Another happy day.
(Pause.)

Aside from the two characters, nothing is wasted in this play, every object and prop are also advocating to who Winnie is. I’ve read a tiny bit about Existentialism and Theatre of the Absurd in relation to Samuel Beckett, but I liked how the play’s quirkiness allowed me to enjoy and grasp a big philosophical idea without making me feel I had to understand it thoroughly.

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

This one-act play by Samuel Beckett consists of two characters, one of whom is seen only indirectly and heard from infrequently. Most of the dialogue -- over 95% of it -- is voiced by Winnie, with Willie, her husband, the other character. Happy Days is not one of the dramatist's better known plays, but it is definitely worth a look. The tone is conveyed by this line of Winnie's:

Ah yes, so little to say, so little to do, and the fear so great, certain days, of finding oneself ... left, with hours still to run, before the bell for sleep, and nothing more to say, nothing more to do, that the days go by, certain days go by, quite by, the bell goes, and little or nothing said, little or nothing done.