Lucian Msamati stepped into the wings, a sea of expectant faces stretching before him. In full costume, Ben Whishaw looked like a lost waif, and the two men locked eyes in a brief, intense moment. The air was electric with anticipation as they prepared to take on their roles as Vladimir and Estragon in Waiting for Godot.
As Msamati made his way down the short passage, he felt a familiar lump form in his throat – the pre-show jitters that had fueled him for decades. But despite the butterflies, he felt steady, focused, aware of every sense. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was tempered by a deep affection for the play and its cast.
As the call came from the deputy stage manager, "That's front of house clearance, guys," Msamati's heart surged with terror – but also with excitement. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. He locked eyes with Ben once more before taking a deep breath and stepping onto the platform.
The crowd erupted into cheers as the curtain rose, and the stage lights illuminated Vladimir's anxious face. But in that first few lines, Msamati found himself caught off guard – by laughter, specifically. The line he'd been rehearsing for weeks was funny, but not to him; yet the audience roared with hilarity.
As the play progressed, Jonathan Slinger's Pozzo and Tom Edden's Lucky swept into the scene, each delivering performances that left the audience in stitches. Msamati watched, mesmerized, as his colleagues worked their magic – the calm, effortless voice of Slinger a masterclass in stagecraft, while Edden's speech was like a finely tuned engine.
When the curtain call came, Msamati felt himself caught up in the wave of adoration, his own emotions ebbing and flowing with the crowd. As he took his final bow, he glimpsed the sea of faces – young and old, black and white and brown – united in their love for the play. It was a moment of pure elation, followed by a swift crash as the reality of exhaustion washed over him.
As the group hug came to an end, Msamati felt his tears well up once more – this time, they dried quickly as he gazed out at the sea of smiling faces. It had been a split-second of sheer terror, but also something more profound: connection, community, and the deep, abiding love for this strange, beautiful play that had brought them all together.
As Msamati made his way down the short passage, he felt a familiar lump form in his throat – the pre-show jitters that had fueled him for decades. But despite the butterflies, he felt steady, focused, aware of every sense. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was tempered by a deep affection for the play and its cast.
As the call came from the deputy stage manager, "That's front of house clearance, guys," Msamati's heart surged with terror – but also with excitement. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. He locked eyes with Ben once more before taking a deep breath and stepping onto the platform.
The crowd erupted into cheers as the curtain rose, and the stage lights illuminated Vladimir's anxious face. But in that first few lines, Msamati found himself caught off guard – by laughter, specifically. The line he'd been rehearsing for weeks was funny, but not to him; yet the audience roared with hilarity.
As the play progressed, Jonathan Slinger's Pozzo and Tom Edden's Lucky swept into the scene, each delivering performances that left the audience in stitches. Msamati watched, mesmerized, as his colleagues worked their magic – the calm, effortless voice of Slinger a masterclass in stagecraft, while Edden's speech was like a finely tuned engine.
When the curtain call came, Msamati felt himself caught up in the wave of adoration, his own emotions ebbing and flowing with the crowd. As he took his final bow, he glimpsed the sea of faces – young and old, black and white and brown – united in their love for the play. It was a moment of pure elation, followed by a swift crash as the reality of exhaustion washed over him.
As the group hug came to an end, Msamati felt his tears well up once more – this time, they dried quickly as he gazed out at the sea of smiling faces. It had been a split-second of sheer terror, but also something more profound: connection, community, and the deep, abiding love for this strange, beautiful play that had brought them all together.
just watched the most incredible live performance of Waiting for Godot 
and it's clear that the cast has a real special bond 
those boys, Lucian Msamati and Ben Whishaw, they're like two peas in a pod 
. But what really got me was how much laughter there was 
I mean, who knew Pozzo could be so funny? 
and that final bow, oh man! the whole theatre just erupted into cheers 
it's these moments of pure connection with others that remind us why we love art in the first place 
So what I'm saying is, the real magic happens in those split seconds between takes when you're not even thinking about the performance anymore... it's like, you're fully present in the moment and you can feel the energy of everyone around you. And for Lucian Msamati, that moment of terror before going on stage was like a countdown to pure elation. I mean, can't we all just experience that kind of connection with whatever it is we do? Whether it's a play, music, or even just hanging out with friends... sometimes it feels like the rest of the world just melts away and it's just us, in this one perfect moment. 
he looks like a waif in that costume tho 
that laughter line threw him off though, gotta feel for the dude 
and can we talk about how Jonathan Slinger's Pozzo is giving me life? 
. I think that's what theater magic is all about - connection & community with the people watching u 
, it's clear how much he loves his craft & the play