Two Men in the Woods: How Absurd

The stage of The Producer’s Club II is strewn with crates—one stamped “THIS END UP” is lying on its side. Shift Change, an original play by Ben Carlin, begins with these crates, before the curtain rises or the actors’ well-worn shoes scrape the stage.

The crates, lying this way and that and marked with faded “fragile” warnings, parallel the two characters in the play. What results is an intelligent, original work that manages to entertain and enthrall, while exploring the depths of human isolation, time, and the purpose of life.

There is a quality of the absurd in this play—nonsensical dialogue combined with gritty, often crude reality highlight the metaphysical rootlessness of the characters and their lives. Ben Carlin’s script is Beckett-esque, and his characters Angus and Seamus become Estragon and Vladmir in Waiting for Godot—they are stuck in the same spot waiting for something they hope will come, but don’t know for certain if it ever will.

Seamus says to Angus, “You must learn to have patience to wait for never, when all things happen at once.”

The steady beat of Seamus’ fingers on a crate tap out the rhythm to Angus’ philosophical poem about two people in different walks of life passing through the same woods. These become the rhythm and meter of Ben Carlin’s script, which in itself is a sort of philosophical poem of life in an absurdist reality.

Eric Peterson’s Angus, candidly portrayed as a childish hooligan running from the police, seeks refuge in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. But the warehouse is actually inhabited by its caretaker, the ancient-looking Seamus, masterfully played by Chet Carlin (Law and Order, Sir Peter Hall’s national tour of As You Like It). Angus ties Seamus up in a chair and points a gun to his head, telling him that he has a bullet with his name on it. But a reversal of the situation follows—Seamus is now pointing the gun at Angus, who is bound to the same chair that had previously restrained Seamus. It seems as though Seamus is trying to teach Angus something, but it is unclear what.

In fact, Shift Change can be seen as the education of Angus, schooled by a master who seems to know a lot more than the audience could ever grasp. Chet Carlin and Eric Peterson portray the only two characters in the play, yet it becomes a one man show. The bullet that Angus said had Seamus’ name on it in fact had two names, “Angus Seamus.” The two were the two travelers in the wood that Angus had philosophized about, who both traveled parallel paths for a while, then went their separate ways. Angus and Seamus’ lives run parallel until Seamus can teach Angus everything he needs to learn (unbeknownst to Angus), and then their paths diverge—Seamus clocks out, leaving Angus as the new caretaker.

Nothing contributes more to this absurd-but-real-feel than Keven Lock’s unique set design. Lock, famous for his work as a scenic artist for Rent, establishes this tone by giving the small theater a boxed-in feel, like the crates. But they, like the characters, the play, and life itself, are not what they seem to be. One by one the crates are opened, revealing lush leather armchairs fully set up with rugs beneath them, wine cabinets with shot glasses, trophy cases, and dartboards. A crate standing against the wall folds out to become a comfortable bed.

Director Shawn Rozsa is a master when it comes to revealing the truth bit by bit, to the ticking of time until all becomes clear. In this way, Shift Change ceases to have a metaphysical rootlessness, and we see that both Angus and Seamus have a purpose and a part to play. But it retains some of its absurdist quality in exploring the hopelessness of human isolation.

In the end, there is really only one person—Angus Seamus--—an amalgamation of the two men, who is both child and adult, apprentice and master. As the original Shift Change reveals, “You never really know who you are until you meet yourself.”