Waiting for Godot

A — INSPIRATION

The existential crisis has accompanied me like a shadow throughout my not-so-long life, and for as long as I can remember I have been at a loss when confronted with the established facts of life — “death,” “freedom,” “loneliness,” and, most frighteningly, “meaninglessness.” Self-salvation is nothing more than reading.

Sartre said that human existence precedes essence, so we have to find meaning on our own; Camus said that life is destined to be meaningless, so we just have to face everything with contempt and enjoy the moment. Yet I still can’t decide how I want to live, nor can I know the meaning of my life. I am still the peasant waiting for Godot under the withered tree in Beckett’s book, looking repeatedly and never coming to fruition. But I wanted to show this nihilistic comedy in a light-hearted way, and so a stop-motion animation was born.

B — SCRIPT, STORYBOARD AND CONFIGURATION

The original Waiting for Godot was itself a two-act tragicomedy, so the animation follows the same structure as before. However, due to the nature of stop-motion animation and the limitations of video length, the plot was highly distilled, with all of the ink devoted to describing the state of the protagonist, as a side note to the passing of people and the loss of time.

Considering the style of the original script, the stage design and character design were kept simple, with a dead tree with scattered branches and leaves standing under a black curtain. The basic character of both protagonists is the not-so-smart farmer, but the difference is made in terms of height, weight, and skin colour and clothing.

C — PROP MAKING

First of all, make the skeleton of the figure, summarize the general shape, and finally shape the details of the face and hands. The dead tree is shaped with wire and clay, then textured with a spatula and finally coloured with acrylics. Leaves and stones are made of paper and foam glue respectively.

D — FILM STILLS

Here are several film stills that suggest the main narrative loop. From opening to closing, they sigh helplessly, scratch and fidget, question passersby, and wait for Godot. After despair sets in, they attempt to end their lives but fail.

This cycle repeats twice — but we know they will go on like this forever, just like you and me in front of the screen.

E — FINAL OUTCOME

After watching multiple stage versions of Waiting for Godot, I realized that expressing emotions such as joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure through clay is never simple. Later, I discovered that early black-and-white silent films offered an insightful reference — Charlie Chaplin, for example, almost transformed himself into a pure symbol of emotion and perception. His physical performance was not merely part of the narrative; it was the embodiment of emotion itself.

Those minimalist sets relied entirely on performance to imply context, and clay functions in a similar way — it externalizes feeling through form, rhythm, and texture. Throughout this process, I tried to return my thinking to a simple, instinctive state, approaching creation with a childlike mindset. The stop-motion animation was filmed in a photography classroom using only an iPhone and a few fill lights, preserving the work’s handcrafted, tactile, and spontaneous quality.