To those who feel overexposed to Waiting for Godot—which includes many theater snobs—no text-faithful production may ever fully satisfy. A great many worldly people yawn nowadays at the play as written. They’ve seen enough Didis and Gogos who wear the requisite grubby clothes and boots and move among objects that actually resemble a tree and rock. For them the desolate, unaccommodated stage picture Beckett made famous has become a cliché, the existential malaise performed in