Kristen Lintvedt as Jane and John Contini as Loyd in the New Jewish Theatre production of Job. Photo by Jon Gitchoff
New Jewish Theatre has a knack for choosing contemporary stories that fit into Jewish philosophy and morality in often abstract ways. They take a very expansive view of what counts as Jewish theater, spotlighting both stories about Jewish identity and stories written by Jewish authors that can touch on any number of subjects. Job falls firmly into the latter category. The title also brings to mind Job (pronounced “JOBE”), the Old Testament figure who suffers and loses everything precious to him—except his faith in God—all while apparently serving as a pawn in some sort of cosmic wager between God and Satan. In some ways, the main character of this play is going through a modern-day version of this old story, sacrificing her social life and mental well-being for what she believes is the greater good.
According to NJT’s excellently detailed program, playwright Max Wolf Friedlich was inspired to write the play after an encounter with a content moderator for a big tech company. The work entailed searching the web for Nazi propaganda, child pornography, and the most horrific, debased elements of humanity, which took a tremendous emotional toll on this person. Friedlich summed up the experience this way: “I had no awareness that there was this human labor cost that went into allowing me to scroll mindlessly on my phone. And I felt really stupid and sort of angry at myself for not knowing that.” As our social lives become increasingly digitized, as the public square shifts to apps like X and Instagram, and as this environment becomes flooded with an ever-increasing volume of AI-generated ragebait, the problem will only get worse. Every person in the country, young and old—including those who may be reading this review on their phones right now—will be affected.
Our story begins in a smartly decorated therapist’s office somewhere in the Bay Area. The Zen Buddhist design sensibility and the childish paint-blotch artwork—the kind that surely goes for tens of thousands at auction—are dead giveaways. Our story will end here, too. It is the only location, and it becomes increasingly tense and claustrophobic as the narrative unfolds and the audience learns more about the world outside the office and the events that brought these two people together.
One is a young woman. When we first meet her, she is hyperventilating, barking swears and commands, and pointing a gun at a panicked, middle-aged man. The woman is Jane (played by Kristen Lintvedt), a high-strung tech worker who is now the sole content moderator for a massive publicly traded company. The company is never named, but the audience can substitute any of the “Magnificent Seven” tech giants and be close to the mark.
At first, Jane comes across as a stereotypically self-sacrificing millennial striver, exactly the kind of person who would be attracted to Bay Area hustle culture. But Jane is dealing with something far more serious than workplace burnout. Her job has exposed her to some of the darkest and most dangerous corners of the internet and revealed to her the worst aspects of humanity.
When the pressure got to be too much, Jane had a very nasty, very public breakdown that was captured on film by uncaring coworkers who found the situation odd or amusing. She has been placed on administrative leave and told she cannot return to work until she gets approval from Loyd (played by John Contini), a well-meaning if naive therapist who must first disarm Jane—literally—before any healing or discovery can take place.
The play has a highly cinematic feel; one can easily imagine this working as a particularly dark and realistic standalone episode of Black Mirror. The script continually subverts audience expectations, and just like Jane, we begin to question reality and fear the darkness that could be lurking in every person we meet.
Loyd alternates between compassion for Jane and genuine fear for his own safety. Despite clear evidence to the contrary—waving guns at a therapist is just the most obvious example, right alongside prescription drug abuse, near-crippling insomnia, paranoia, and anxiety—Jane insists that the only thing she needs to be well is her job. She refuses to leave Loyd’s office until he provides a clean bill of mental health, transforming the therapy session into something akin to a hostage negotiation.
The play rests entirely on the performances of its two lead actors, and both do an outstanding job. Despite her dangerous and self-destructive behavior, Jane is compelling, sympathetic, and uncomfortably relatable. She espouses the kind of burnout and cynicism that is so commonplace among adults in our increasingly dystopian 21st-century existence.
Loyd belongs to an older, more optimistic generation. He used to be with ‘it,’ but then the digital world changed what ‘it’ was, leaving him dangerously naive about the true nature of modern online life. Contini plays Loyd as a dogged optimist who is working through his own grief and trauma, trying desperately to maintain his professional façade and establish something approaching a normal relationship with a client he was completely unprepared for. Both Jane and Loyd have an image to uphold and boundaries that cannot be crossed, and neither wants to be the first to break.
NJT makes excellent use of the black box Wool Studio Theatre once again. The venue is just the right size for an intimate psychodrama with professional-level production value. The set design is reminiscent of the one used for God of Carnage earlier this year, creating a deceptively comfortable and welcoming space for a highly intense story. The sound and light design is arguably the most impressive technical feature. The lighting shifts dynamically from bright to dark throughout the show, and the characters are occasionally bombarded with an array of primary and secondary colors that represent their extreme emotional lability. Meanwhile, the distressing sounds of everyday urban life that we have all learned to tune out—sirens, blaring horns, crashing cars—occasionally interrupt the proceedings, reminding us of the physical dangers that await our characters outside.
Job completes its run this Sunday, August 23. This St. Louis premiere is another jewel in the crown for NJT, cementing their status as one of the city’s premier theater groups. The company’s dedication to telling classic and contemporary stories ensures that they remain relevant and cutting-edge. Their next offering is Just For Us by Alex Edelman, which premieres October 1. Inspired by a stand-up comic’s real-world experiences with online antisemitism and white supremacy, it should offer a more comedic counterpoint to the heavy brutality of Job. Hopefully, it will help us laugh at the sorry state of our online community—and, with any luck, help us find a way forward. | Rob Von Nordheim
For more information or to purchase tickets, visit jccstl.com/arts-ideas/new-jewish-theatre/.
