‘Why do the righteous suffer?” That question’s at the heart of the Old Testament’s Book of Job — one that will feel newly relevant to theatergoers who sit through “Job,” Thomas Bradshaw’s vulgarization of the biblical tale.
Bradshaw apparently believes that the way to make the story come alive for modern audiences is to give it a Quentin Tarantino treatment. Sure, the Old Testament has plenty of violence, but that doesn’t mean we have to sit through a simulated castration.
The one-hour play hews fairly closely to the original tale. Goaded by Satan, God tests Job’s faith by putting him through one calamity after another. Here they include his son Joshua strangling his sister and raping her corpse, only to then be sodomized with a stick by his outraged brother.
Job endures, with a little whining. But his wife, who probably saw “The Book of Mormon,” is less forgiving. “F – – k God,” she cries.
Periodically the action shifts to heaven, where God hangs out with his polo-shirt-wearing sons, Jesus and Dionysus, who bust each other’s chops, frat-boy style.
“Who farted?” asks Dionysus, wrinkling his nose. “Whoever smelt it, dealt it,” replies Jesus.
It’s not exactly the New Living Bible. Worse, there’s little in the way of artistic insight. Its relentless in-your-face quality makes it feel little more than a gimmick.
As staged by Benjamin H. Kamine, there’s plenty of nudity, and the young ensemble, dubbed the Bats, go through their paces with their usual near-disturbing enthusiasm. But watching this play is a trial even Job shouldn’t endure.