THEATRE, “THE TYPISTS” (70 mins)
“The Typists” is an hour-long transformation scene in which one very simple, progressive image (actors ageing before our eyes) captures the futility of life better than many ambitious, full-length plays. The relentless decrescendo of the typists’ day is accompanied by all the fervent trivia, which are the language of our lives, and the condensation-device registers this with savage clarity. The play conveys an almost Chekovian sense of dulled routine and empty rituals and, like Chekov, it demonstrates the utter impossibility of acting upon profound personal perceptions which cry out for positive action. The psychoanalytic parlor game- I’ll tell you what is wrong with you- You tell me what is wrong with me- is played with brutal and unflagging regularity in all our modern circles where a couch is a piece of psychic rather than domestic furniture. And it is this sense of being trapped in the midst of total consciousness, which creates the pathos in the lives of Schisgal’s Typists.
Very obviously inspired by the Theatre of the Absurd, the play takes a looks at our redundant human condition in a tragic-comic manner.