Somehow over the past 20 years my mind mixed together Beckett with Pinter and then capped them both off with “Zoo Story,” which I’ve just come to find out was written by neither. Crazy up there! We went to see Endgame because of Stritchie, you know, but it was stellar all around (I thought Max Casella—you will remember him as Vinnie of “Doogie Howser” fame—was the breakout). Something in me was itching to hate it—such meaningfulness about meaninglessness reflexively ruffles my feathers—but I enjoyed it quite a lot, while remaining deeply disturbed. Those two sad old people trapped in those crumpled little trash cans, and that simple line, “Go and see is she dead.” Knowing she would be dead. And “You’re on earth, there’s no cure for that!” And the poetry of it. Almost did me in.
Also, sitting one row in front of us: Kate Winslet and Sam Mendes, with Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard right in front of them. V. v. classy.