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The second highest-grossing motion picture of all time—the product of a little indie shingle that hit the jackpot, called Avengers: Endgame—is also by fiat the highest-grossing motion picture of all time with the word “endgame” in the title. That’s not as easy a title to grab as you might think; IMDb lists several dozen features, shorts, and TV episodes that have relied upon the handy term for the final moves of a chess match, most of which preceded Marvel’s grand finale. So it’s probably the law of averages that put two different Endgames on our reader-suggested review queue within spitting distance of each other. Aside from their titles, these two films share exactly two common elements: they both use hurtful language with reckless abandon, and they are both shot on film. Beyond that, you couldn’t ask for two similarly titled stories to be further apart in style, tone, and subject matter. What makes them both worthy to bear the standard of games that end? Let’s dig in.

ENDGAME (2000)

DIRECTED BY: Conor McPherson

FEATURING: Michael Gambon, David Thewlis, Charles Simon, Jean Anderson

PLOT: In a barren house at the end of the world, a blind and decrepit old man lives with his parents (who occupy a pair of rubbish bins) and his hobbled servant, who is contemplating a departure.

COMMENTS: Let’s give a warm welcome back to Samuel Beckett, previously seen round these parts waiting for a friend. Another entry from Irish television’s epic “Beckett on Film” cycle capturing all the great writer’s stage works on celluloid for posterity, Endgame is here to deliver the author’s vision of a bleak and doomed future for the human race, precisely according to the author’s wishes. The set is an almost-empty room, devoid of any decoration or furnishing that isn’t occupied by an actor for the duration. Beckett was notoriously allergic to anything ornamental (as with Godot, he originally wrote Endgame in French to curb any tendencies toward florid vocabulary), so what we see and hear is not just what matters but all that matters.

What we can see is definitely a surreal nightmare. All four characters are stricken with various invalidities. Hamm, the apparent lord of the manor, doesn’t enter so much as he is unveiled, and when he speaks it is to declare himself the center of the universe. “Can there be misery loftier than mine?” He is immobile, and thus relies upon the assistance of a crippled man who is himself unable to sit down. The apocalypse has obliterated everything outside of this room. (“Nothing on the horizon?” Hamm asks. “What in God’s name could there be on the horizon?” Clov replies.) And then there are the upstage trash cans that house Hamm’s geriatric parents. Of course they’re absurd, but then again, they’re just about the only things on the set. They’ve got to count for something.

It’s telling how irrelevant most of the weirdness is in understanding these tragic figures. Hamm (a happily haughty Gambon) is the alpha, despite being blind and confined to a living room chair on casters. (He often demands to be moved, then complains about the quality of his new location.) When Hamm thinks his dog, which is obviously a cheap toy, is ready for lunch, he eagerly tells his aide to make him wait for it. He seems to bear no particular feelings for his parents, having consigned them to the dustbin of history as much as the actual trash containers they presently occupy. (“Accursed progenitor!” he spits.) His strongest feelings, and therefore his harshest cruelties, are reserved for Clov. They frequently banter like Abbott and Costello, mocking each other’s intentions and quickly offering corrections when one starts to get too hopeful. Hamm is almost joyfully cruel to Clov, which Thewlis endures with hangdog passivity, most notably in a long story he tells about a downtrodden man with a starving little boy whose story seems to dovetail uncomfortably with the very people we’re watching. Clov finds small examples of revenge, such as pretending to leave the room or withholding the painkillers Hamm desperately needs. In this barren world, these discourtesies are all they have left.

My assessment of the weirdness of Endgame is similar to that which I applied to Waiting for Godot: there isn’t much that’s weird about it as a movie that wasn’t already weird as a play. The proof can be found in other filmed version, such as the 1991 TV adaptation starring Norman Beaton and Stephen Rea, which is certainly less cinematic and not quite as adept at capturing the mood of desolation, but which is still fundamentally the same strange tale. It’s equally true of a 1992 videotaped production which, if anything, could be considered closest to the source because it’s based on the playwright’s own direction. Essentially, no single filmed version of Endgame – and certainly not this one – is truly weirder than the rest. Bizzareness and oddity are in its DNA. This particular production is respectful to the source; being weird is merely proof of that respect.

“…while hard-core devotees may tune in, general audiences will find this impenetrable exercise leaves them, well, frustrated and irascible.” – David Rooney, Variety (festival screening)

OPERATION: ENDGAME (2010)

DIRECTED BY: Fouad Mikati

FEATURING: Joe Anderson, Ellen Barkin, Rob Corddry, Emilie de Ravin, Zach Galifianakis, Brandon T. Jackson, Bob Odenkirk, Maggie Q, Ving Rhames, Adam Scott, Jeffrey Tambor, Odette Yustman

PLOT: On the day of Barack Obama’s inauguration as president, the two halves of a deep-undercover black-ops intelligence division are set against each other by an unseen force that is trying to bring down the agency.

COMMENTS: Had enough highbrow? Then welcome instead to this live-action adaptation of “Spy vs. Spy.” A 180˚-turn in style and substance, this frenetic, violent would-be comedy does have one thing in common with the Beckett play: the characters don’t seem to like each other very much. Beckett, via the trashcan-bound Nell, declares, “Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.” Operation: Endgame is a 90-minute rebuttal to that premise.

The snotty attitude of everyone toward everyone begins in the very first scene, in which recent hire The Fool (everyone goes by a code name taken from a tarot card; don’t ask) is introduced to the unhealthy interpersonal dynamics of his new workplace. The general vibe is, what if ”Veep” was about spies (for timing’s sake, In the Loop is probably the better analogy), but at least the members of the Meyer administration seemed to be working toward a common goal every once in a while. It’s genuinely difficult to imagine any of these people successfully completing an operation or collecting a single usable piece of intelligence. There’s some bitter irony in the way the film spends several minutes providing each character with a bio and list of covert abilities, because you will never see them use any of their skills, you will never know who is on which team, and you will never care what happens to any of them.

All that’s left is violence. First the verbal kind, featuring innumerable ways to throw about vulgarities and denigrate sexual prowess. (Corddry leads the pack, hurling invective in practically every line of dialogue, but everyone gets their fair share.) After that, the battling turns physical, with everyone trying to eliminate their counterparts for reasons that are supremely unimportant. In fairness, the killing is certainly is resourceful. Turns out there’s any number of ways to kill a person using only office supplies: staple removers, paper shredders, and metal bookends are just a few of the handy tools for dispatching the opposition. All the while, a pair of office plebes watch the whole thing via security cameras, visibly appalled but unable to intervene or escape. I related to these characters most of all.

The problem is that there are absolutely no stakes for any of the characters, and thus correspondingly none for you, either. One character declares that he doesn’t want to die because it would be strange to not wake up the next morning. If the people in the movie can’t muster a decent reason to live, it’s going to be pretty hard for us to conjure up much empathy for them. Furthermore, if you’re only here for the jokes, the disappointment will only grow. Casting well-known comic actors like Tambor, Scott, and Galifianakis is an overt attempt to lend wit and humor by association. But while they can put some comedic spin on the dialogue, the fact is that there’s not a single funny line in the whole movie. (This includes the end-credit improv bits by otherwise reliable pros Corddry and Odenkirk.) Screenwriter Sam Levinson (earning his first credit before going on to oversee “Euphoria”) has a list of Things That Are Funny which consists of people being nasty to each other, comedians attacking each other, unusual murder implements, and that’s it. The list needs work. 

Endgame is bleak for what it’s about. It traffics in hopelessness, a fear for the endurance of humanity. Operation: Endgame is also bleak, but more because of what it is. It heralds the death of creativity. Remarkably, that turns out to be the more appalling endgame.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Operation: Endgame goes out of its way to delineate each cast member’s single determining characteristic—Ving Rhames, for example, is a MacGyver-like genius with weapons; drunken ex-golden boy Corddry is filled with rage; Emilie de Ravin is cute as a button and utterly unhinged—but they all quickly devolve into one big interchangeable ball of crazy. The film follows suit. ” – Nathan Rabin, The A.V. Club

(Endgame was nominated for review by paisan, and the complete “Beckett on Film” cycle was suggested by Caleb Moss. Operation: Endgame was nominated for review by Tony Fleming. Suggest a weird movie or two of your own here.)      

Where to watch Operation: Endgame