The Toronto Theatre Review: Coal Mine’s JOB
By Ross
On a very immersive and triangular sharply defined theatrical space, a psychological standoff is what immediately snaps us deep into the emotionally volatile and captivatingly dangerous world of JOB, the thrilling and critically acclaimed play by Max Wolf Friedlich (SleepOver) that is getting a first class, not-to-be-missed production at Toronto’s Coal Mine Theatre. Working this through in real-time, after many blinks and flashes of possible chaotic interactions of various degrees of anxiety-producing standoffs, the play dives in brilliantly to its tense, tight, and tumultuous zooming in on mental health and the workplace, when one young tech worker, played to frayed perfection by Charlotte Dennis (Soulpepper’s The Walk-up) is mandated to seek the services of a crisis therapist, hypnotically well-played by Diego Matamoros (Canadian Stage’s Winter Solstice).
Directed with sharpness and clever clarity by David Ferry (National Arts Center’s Stuff Happens), the blinking setup and startup of this armed and well-aimed play grab hold quickly and miraculously, digging us sharply into the standoff space, designed meticulously by Nick Blais (Coal Mine’s The Effect), with exacting costuming by Ellie Koffman (Soulpepper’s What the Constitution Means to Me). The play puts us off balance, making us lean in to try to understand what is bringing these two together, Dennis’s Jane and Matamoros’s Loyd, into this room, with such overwhelming anxiety. It’s wisdom and shame connecting and colliding, setting up a chaotic and life-threatening game of chess, using paradigms and conflictual standings between generations, genders, and political viewpoints.
Something has sent this young, smart female big-tech employee over the edge, causing a viral, unhinged meltdown that we only secondhand hear. It’s clearly a scream into the internet and external void about something overwhelming and disturbing. We assume, like the therapist, that it’s Jane’s job, the one she has been put on leave from, and the one she is desperate to get back to. That is the cause, her Job, but the more we hear and learn, the more we understand and maybe, the more we don’t, or at least, we think we do.
It’s a sizzlingly tight psychological dive into trauma and destruction, beautifully enhanced by the strong and jarring lighting design by the director of production, Wesley Babcock (Factory’s Armadillos), and the clever, intrusive sound design created miraculously by Michael Wanless (Coal Mine’s Appropriate). The sharpness to examine our vantage points is alarmingly pulling, forcing us to try to make sense of all the voices and sounds rattling around in the red light pulsations that become red siren flags and weapons used against our senses, aiding our discomfort but forcing us to lean in more to the frantic essence of a person overwhelmed.
As a psychotherapist myself (in my real world), the play connects deeply to so many difficult dilemmas and challenges that step into the shared space of the therapy room. The passionate counterarguments and denials of need are well-known engagements, and I couldn’t help but find fascination and connectivity to their standoff, even as they both lean in and away from one another from one minute to the next. Loyd, regardless of how many times he tells us he is well-respected and at the top of his field, doesn’t engage like most therapists would, giving away far too much of himself in boundary situations that wouldn’t exactly lend themselves to self-disclosure, but that is part of the sparkle and question in this dynamic piece. Why is he giving her so much of himself, and why do they both stay, aiming their discomfort at one another, while engaging in a dance that doesn’t feel true to the field?
The two actors are spectacularly detailed in their stance, both physically and mentally, moving around the “all-time therapy classic” room with precision and expertise. The triangulation of the room makes for some difficult transitions, forcing movement by the characters when the organic conundrum didn’t authentically seem motivated by a need or a want. Generally, the anxious wandering feels forced, as if they are being pushed around by theatrical sightlines and the needed sharing of visuals and connections. Still, the actors make it work, as if there is a reason for each of them in their moment to get up and shift when the real work of therapy is a much more still engagement.
Returning and navigating themselves in and around one another to points made, the twist and dig into the darkness of the web and the idea around an obligation to help, on both sides, become increasingly life-or-death, as the armed walls of JOB keep crumbling and rising up with a vengeance. The doctor/patient paradigm is a forever-shifting perspective in this captivatingly killer of a play, registering a context completely under the climax, which seems more surefooted than other productions I have seen of this masterfully oblique play. With screams into the dark making more sense with each reveal and wrap-around, Max Wolf Friedlich’s JOB leaves us electrically off balance, wondering and wanting maybe a bit more ambiguity in those last few moments, but most assuredly satisfied in the leaving of that room at the end of this complex and captivating ‘session’.
