Harold Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter, first performed in 1960, stands as a seminal work in the canon of the Theatre of the Absurd. While it shares the existential DNA of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot—featuring two men waiting in a desolate space for an arrival that may never happen—Pinter infuses his absurdity with a distinct flavor of palpable, claustrophobic dread often termed the "comedy of menace." The play presents a world where logic is suspended, communication is a weapon, and the mundane is terrifying. The "absurd" in The Dumb Waiter is not merely stylistic whimsy; it is a structural tool used to expose the fragility of human identity, the terrifying nature of blind obedience, and the silence of an indifferent universe. This essay will examine the layers of absurdity in the play, ranging from the triviality of the dialogue and the irrationality of the setting to the surreal intrusion of the title object itself.
The Absurdity of the Trivial
The play opens on a scene of banality that belies the violence of the characters’ profession. Ben and Gus are hitmen, waiting in a basement to execute an unknown target. However, the vast majority of the play’s runtime is not consumed by the logistics of murder, but by the logistics of tea-making and newspaper reading. This juxtaposition—the professional killers behaving like a bickering married couple—is the primary source of the play’s absurdity.
Pinter uses the "displacement activity" of the absurd to highlight the characters’ anxiety. They obsess over the trivial because the reality of their situation is too difficult to confront. For instance, Ben reads out sensationalist headlines from a newspaper to distract himself from the silence of the room. He exclaims:
"A man of eighty-seven crawling under a lorry! ... It’s down here in black and white."
The absurdity lies in Ben’s outrage at a stranger’s death while he sits waiting to cause a death himself. He possesses a moral compass regarding the abstract world outside, yet functions as an amoral machine within his own reality. This disconnect is a hallmark of the absurd: the compartmentalization of the human mind to survive illogical circumstances.
The Breakdown of Language
In the Theatre of the Absurd, language is rarely a tool for communication; rather, it is a tool for dominance, evasion, or filling the void. Pinter is a master of the non-sequitur and the semantic dispute. The characters speak at each other rather than to each other, resulting in a dialogue that circles endlessly without progression.
The most famous example of linguistic absurdity in the play is the argument over the phrase "light the kettle." Gus says, "I bet he’s mostly likely about to light the kettle," to which Ben aggressively responds:
Ben: Light the kettle? It’s common usage. Gus: I’ve never heard such a rotten thing in my life. Ben: What do you mean? Gus: You don’t light the kettle. You light the gas.
This debate continues with fierce intensity. On the surface, it is a ridiculous argument about semantics. However, in the context of the absurd, it represents a power struggle. Ben, the senior partner, cannot tolerate Gus questioning his linguistic authority because it threatens his overall authority. In a world where they have no control over their location, their target, or their orders, the only thing they can control is the definition of words. The absurdity of the argument highlights the fragility of their relationship; if they cannot agree on how to make tea, how can they agree on the morality of murder?
Furthermore, Pinter uses silence as effectively as speech. The famous "Pinter pauses" are moments where the absurd horror of their situation leaks through the cracks of their trivial chatter. The language is a veneer; when it stops, the existential dread rushes in.
The Mechanism of the Unknown: The Dumb Waiter
The titular dumb waiter—the mechanical food lift at the back of the room—is the play’s central symbol of absurdity. It transforms the setting from a mere hideout into a surreal, purgatorial space. The basement is windowless and timeless, severed from the normal world, yet the dumb waiter serves as a violent intrusion from "above."
Midway through the play, the dumb waiter begins to descend with orders for food. This is inherently absurd because the basement is clearly not a kitchen; it is a derelict room with no gas for the stove and no food in the bag. Yet, the demands from above become increasingly specific and exotic:
"Two braised steak and chips. Two sago puddings. Two teas without sugar."
And later:
"Macaroni Pastitsio. Ormitha Macarounada."
The absurdity here is twofold. First, the specific nature of the requests (Greek cuisine in a Birmingham basement) highlights the disconnect between the "authorities" upstairs and the reality downstairs. Second, Ben and Gus’s reaction is not to laugh at the impossibility of the requests, but to panic. They frantically try to fulfill the orders with the meager snacks they have in their pockets—biscuits, a chocolate bar, a bottle of milk.
When they send up their pathetic offering, the voice tube creates a direct line of judgment from above. Ben reports:
"The ecclesiastical gentleman is unhappy... He says the chocolate was melted... The milk was sour."
This interaction elevates the dumb waiter to a theological metaphor. It represents an unseen, demanding God (or the organization's boss, Wilson) who issues impossible commandments and judges the subjects for failing to achieve them. Ben and Gus are Sisyphus-like figures, trying to appease a deity that demands "Ormitha Macarounada" when all they have are stale crisps. The absurdity lies in their frantic obedience to a system that clearly does not understand or care about their limitations.
The Absurdity of Blind Obedience
Ultimately, the play uses absurdity to critique the danger of unquestioning subservience. Ben represents the "good soldier" who follows orders regardless of their logic. When the dumb waiter demands food, Ben does not question why; he only worries about how to comply. He relies on the hierarchy to provide meaning to his existence.
Gus, conversely, is the discordant note in the absurd system because he asks questions. He asks about the tank, the sheets, and the matches. He asks, "Who cooks?" and "Why did he send us matches if he knew there was no gas?" In a logical play, these questions would lead to answers. In an absurd play, these questions lead to destruction.
The final absurdity of the play is the revelation of the target. Through the speaking tube, Ben is ordered to kill the next person who enters the room. When the door opens, it is Gus who stumbles in, stripped of his jacket and gun. The circular logic of the absurd serves its final punchline: the organization is self-consuming. The man who asks questions (Gus) must be eliminated by the man who follows orders (Ben).
The ending is a tableau of frozen violence. Ben points his gun at Gus; they stare at each other. Pinter refuses to let the gun go off, leaving the audience in a state of suspended ambiguity. This lack of resolution is the final narrative absurdity. Traditional drama offers catharsis or conclusion; The Dumb Waiter offers only a terrifying stillness.
Harold Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter utilizes the absurd not as a vehicle for escapism, but as a mirror for the anxieties of the modern world. Through the cyclical, empty dialogue, the terrifying comedy of the food orders, and the illogical hierarchy of the hitmen’s organization, Pinter deconstructs the illusion of control.
The characters are trapped in a universe that is at once hilarious and horrifying—a place where one must worry about the correct grammar for boiling water while waiting to commit murder. The play suggests that the human condition is essentially a state of waiting in the dark, responding to impossible demands from an unseen authority, hoping that the next message coming down the shaft isn't a death sentence. In Pinter’s basement, the absurdity is not that the dumb waiter is asking for Ormitha Macarounada; the absurdity is that Ben and Gus actually try to make it.
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