Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic Unlock the Editor’s Digest for freeRoula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.Max Wolf Friedlich’s Job, which is already in previews on Broadway, is presented as an extended conversation between Jane, a content moderator put on leave, and her middle-aged therapist, Loyd. It becomes a tightrope walk that makes us wonder whether either of them will survive intact.The session does not have a promising start: as the lights go up, Jane (Sydney Lemmon) is levelling a gun at Loyd (Peter Friedman). Once he has defused the situation, he must extract his patient from denial about her malaise. She barrels ahead with ruminations on a broken social order and recounts the gruesome particulars of her job vetting objectionable videos for a social media giant. Only the frumpy trappings of a psychiatrist’s office fill out the stage in Michael Herwitz’s laser-focused production.On every level this is a study in contrasts. Keyed up and hyper-articulate, Jane speaks with a brightly confident cynicism but, slender and sallow, looks diminished from the stress of her job. As Loyd, Friedman has an accommodating vibe but falls into a defensive crouch under Jane’s barrage of millennial angst. Lemmon finds multiple ways of standing about (or semi-sitting), ill at ease, never quite settling into the therapy, which her employer ordered after she broke down screaming at the office.Despite the extremes of Jane’s situation, the outlines of her predicament are readily recognisable. She identifies herself with her job completely, but it is also killing her; even as she pieces together with Loyd the extent of her damage, she feels a constant tug to go back and finish her (never-ending) work. On a broader level, this is a sobering snapshot of the dirty labour behind the smooth surfaces of the internet, in this case those tasked with managing the fire-hose of hatred and brutality online.There is also a generational clash brewing. Jane lobs “OK boomer”-style zingers at Loyd, who is proud of his career as a hippie-turned-shrink in the Bay Area. The therapy format has an intriguing effect here, setting us up to identify with each of them in turn, and finally making us spectators to a collective mess. There may be flickers of paranoia in Jane’s speeches, but her points about a deeper social rot leave us with a twinge that only sharpens as the play goes on.That is where the biblical echo of the play’s title might come in. It is as if Jane’s faith in God (or humanity) is undergoing a constant test through the awful imagery she views online on an hourly basis. But rather than theologising, Job is more occupied with tracing the maze of rationalisation Jane finds herself in. Occasionally, fuguelike lighting effects and phantom sounds suggest that she’s in danger of outright dissociation.The play ends with a horrific twist that brings a hidden savagery into the light. But by then, Jane’s nervy speeches have well established the harrowing nature of her work, and the play’s gotcha conclusion feels somewhat tacked on after the granular give-and-take of trust and distrust.The root appeal of Job remains its embrace of Jane’s unstable energy, at once fearful and fearless, self-deluding and laced with truths. Beyond the macabre details of the dark web, what she imparts is a quivering mood of unsustainable discontent that is worth heeding.★★★☆☆To September 29, jobtheplay.com
