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One of Beckett's least “absurd” and most philosophical plays. I find it better than his “Godot” and “Endgame”. Those were highly “beckettian”, meaning they had that characteristic trademark of master and slave dialogue, of BDSM despair and cynicism. “Eleutheria” reminds me more of Ionesco, with his satire of bourgeois society and impression of mechanical gestures and eternal return of nothingness from “The Bold Soprano”. Very funny (of course in a sad way, beyond the sadness somehow), containing nihilistic traits and the subsequent pastiche of that nihilism. A masterpiece and a great introduction to Beckett's theater. Very existential as well: if we take away the absurd, we have an atmosphere reminiscent to Sartre and Camus.