Intellectuals duke it out in 'JB'
By Sally Carpenter sallyc@theacorn.com

The drama "JB," presented by the Moorpark College Theater Department, is based on the Book of Job, but my Sunday School lessons were never like this.

"JB" opened on Broadway in 1958 as an updated version of the tale of suffering. Director John Loprieno advances the story into the 21st century with a rave scene, contemporary music, strobe lights and topnotch technical effects.

The setting is inside a circus tent decorated with enormous canvas panels with the imaginative religious artwork by William Blake, 18th century visionary mystic. A balloon seller, Mr. Zuss (Jack McGee) and a popcorn vendor, Nickles (Kamahni Huck), decided to act out the ancient story once more. To them, Job is not one man but Everyman, the millions of humans who have suffered unjustly throughout the centuries.

Zuss (Greek god Zeus?) climbs atop a platform that represents "heaven" and takes "God's" role. Nickles wants to play Job, but Zuss persuades him to be "his opposite," Satan. They use Greek masks to act their roles. As they begin to recite the familiar scripture verses- Zuss tells Nickles "you know the line"- a booming voice interrupts. Is this God or, as Zuss says, only "the prompter"?

They watch as wealthy businessman JB, in shirt and tie, gathers his wife and five children around the table to say grace before Thanksgiving dinner. Nickles bets Zuss that JB only praises God because of his wealth- would he do so if he had no reason to be thankful?

The testing begins. JB's children are killed by a car crash, a child molester and a building collapse. As JB grovels in the ruins, his wife, Sarah (Karolina Augustyn-Mole), urges him to "curse God and die." When JB stubbornly clings to his faith, she leaves him, alone and penniless.

Act 2 examines JB's coping. He begs God to reveal the sin that produced his calamities. Three socalled "comforters" arrive, all dressed in purple and black, who offer little solace. Eliphas (Robyn Thomas) is a psychiatrist who thinks "guilt" is only a product of his mind. Bildad (Carmen Selame), the historian, sees life as a collective society where the individual doesn't matter. Zophar (Kelby Cross) is a stereotypical Biblethumping preacher with a Southern drawl whom JB finds the least comforting of all.

Huck is electric, with his postmodern cynicism and endless pacing. Solbrig portrays JB with almost childlike innocence and trust. The children bring poignancy to their roles. The construction, lighting and tech crews all deserve recognition.

If you've read the book, you'll know how the play ends. The script follows Scripture closely and doesn't add much new insight to the classic text. For such a contemporary character, JB still holds to a view rejected by many modern theologians who believe suffering is random, not punishment for personal sin.

Playwright Archibald MacLeish tacked on an ending not found in the Bible but one which apparently expresses his personal humanistic views. This final scene seems to come from nowhere.

MacLeish was a poet, and the script is called "a play in verse." The dense language is lyrical and delicious, but at times too rich. One longs for a "pause" button to stop the action to savor a morsel before moving on to the next juicy tidbit.

Perhaps because the dialogue is poetry and not natural speech, and because Zuss and Nickles objectively view JB's action from a distance, I found the show an intellectual banquet but an emotional famine. I knew JB was suffering, but I didn't feel his pain. The play seemed more like an academic debate than a human struggle. The play isn't bad- just not passionately engaging.

But the play dares to ponder a spiritual subject in today's souless society, and that's an accomplishment.

"JB" continues through March 31 at 8 p.m., Main Theater, Performing Arts Center, 7075 Campus Road, Moorpark. For tickets, call (805) 378-1485.