Theater Review by JK Clarke . . .
There are jobs in this world that many of us, well actually most of us, could never dream of doing. They’re dirty, dangerous, or horrifying—but the truth is, somebody’s gotta do them. The advent of the Internet and mobile technology has introduced a new subset of disturbing employment opportunities that can almost make jobs like cop, landfill worker or crime scene cleaner seem comparatively quaint. Who, for example, has to scrub vomit-inducing, vile content from the Internet that would drive most of us to the brink? After two Off-Broadway runs (first at Soho Rep, then at the Connelly) during the 2023-24 season, newcomer Max Wolf Friedlich’s JOB, which explores this question (and others), has landed at the Hayes Theater on Broadway.
A two-hander starring Peter Friedman (HBO’s “Succession”) and Sydney Lemmon (The Parisian Woman), granddaughter of the legendary actor Jack Lemmon, the first thing to understand about JOB is that the name isn’t derived from the Old Testament tale, though we do see two people who are being put to the test . . . just not by God. It’s about an occupation—one of the most emotionally destructive jobs a person can have.
While there is much to be spoiled with too much description, suffice it to say that the play opens almost explosively before settling into an incredibly tense therapy session in a San Francisco psychologist’s office. Loyd (Friedman), a hippie-esque Boomer shrink in his mid-60s, is evaluating Gen-Z Jane (Lemmon) at the behest of her company following a breakdown of sorts (to put it mildly) she experienced at work. She’s whip-smart and engages Loyd in an antagonistic cat-and-mouse discussion or her emotional well-being and her fitness (or lack thereof) to return to work. As a therapist under tense circumstances, Loyd could not be more accommodating and understanding, and he appears to legitimately want to help Jane. At times he can’t resist parrying her acerbic barbs, but mostly he tries to listen compassionately, though it’s a Sisyphean task that he seems incapable of completing, making the session seem endless.
That, too, may be the overarching problem with JOB. Not only does it feel, despite the generously short 80-minute runtime, interminable at times, but one gets the impression that it was stuffed with unnecessary detail in order to get it to that 80-minute mark and justify the ticket price. This isn’t to say that the concept isn’t enormously exciting and innovative—it is—but at some point the narrative simply goes off the rails. A good script doctor might have successfully tidied the play and made it a tour de force.
Some of the world’s greatest playwrights have suggested that the writing of a great play comes down to one simple idea thoroughly explored. While JOB’s initial premise is utterly brilliant, too many extraneous ideas and subplots were brought in when a deeper exploration of the central problem would have sufficed. Great writers/directors like Quentin Tarantino often create fully fleshed-out backstories for their characters, allowing the actors to fully understand who they are. But most of those details never reach the actual script (or screen or stage). Instead, the actors are given an instructive roadmap to understanding who their characters are. That knowledge, without being uttered or laid out in some tedious expository manner, informs the character. JOB could have used this type of informed editing. Jane’s work, and what it does to her, is the fascinating component here. We don’t need to know about her parents, her experiences in college (good or bad), or even her alarmingly short-sighted feelings and thoughts about “Boomers.” Most of this would have ultimately come across with good acting and writing.
Director Michael Herwitz has done much to make the Broadway transfer of JOB more palatable to a Broadway audience. Notably, Scott Penner’s set feels more like a therapist’s office, with a desk, computer, plants, and other trimmings (as opposed to two chairs and a lamp in the Off-Broadway iterations); and Michele J. Li’s costumes have notably improved—more naturalistic and not so jarringly frumpy (and unconvincing) as before.
But these improvements aren’t enough. As before, there are moments when there seems to be a jump cut taking us (or the characters) away from reality, punctuated by flashing light squares on the back wall (Mextely Couzin) and electronic jolts of sound (Cody Spencer). These episodes (Jane’s, we must assume) are too vague and uncertain. Were these brief forays into psychosis? Flashes of shocking insight? Hallucinations? Even having seen the play before, these schisms still didn’t hint at a clear message for me. It’s a delicate situation for the play, as too much information could serve as a spoiler within the play itself. Too little, however, as is the case here, risks taking the viewer out of the moment.
A two-handed psychological thriller like JOB is utterly dependent on the acting, with both actors bringing equal strength to the table—if not, the imbalance is immediately noticeable, as it is, a bit, here. Friedman is phenomenal. We take the ride with him and feel his dramatic changes in emotion without stopping to question their veracity. Lemmon, on the other hand, while strong, leaves one wondering what another more versatile actor might do with the role. She has mannerisms (including a distracting and ineffective overuse of her arms and hands that drops away at times) that are not only distracting but keep her from truly embodying her character. Her dialogue often feels like something she memorized and not something she is experiencing.
JOB provides a novel, modern, and intriguing concept in a play that shows a tremendous amount of promise, yet still feels underbaked. It’s worth seeing for the ideas alone and because it may never get the rewrite it truly deserves. Friedman’s terrific performance is also a reason to go. And, at 80 minutes, it’s easy to plow through the trouble spots. What’s more, you may find yourself thinking that your own job, considering the alternatives, isn’t so bad after all.
JOB. Through October 27 at the Helen Hayes Theater (240 West 44th Street, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues). 80 minutes, no intermission. www.jobtheplay.com
Photos: Emilio Madrid