Organic Theater has done such a wonderful job in The Memo, it is hard to imagine a more perfect presentation of this play by Czech writer and statesmen, Václav Havel.

The Memo is at turns funny and unsettling. While the original The Memorandum is rooted in the totalitarian Eastern Europe, in Paul Wilson’s fresh translation as The Memo, it reads as a commentary on the increasingly overbearing pressures today to perform in professional settings. That pressure is often ratcheted up to effect performance toward ambitious goals, often harnessing social pressure and WeWork-style perks toward these ends.

Set in a mythical office (the set is all in grays is by Terrence McClellan), The Memo opens with clerks busily waltzing in a stylized manner through the office, processing manila files. This and other transition scenes are choreographed by Erica Bittner, with music by Tony Reimer. Then a derby-wearing executive arrives with a bright red folder.. When he places it in the inbox on the main desk, the movement screeches to a halt, and the action and dialog commence.

Inside that red folder is the titular memo. The Managing Director, Gross (Tricia Rogers) struggles to read what sounds like gibberish (does she have it upside down?). Soon her shark-like Assistant Director, Balas (Joel Moses) arrives, joined at the hip now by that same mysterious derby-topped exec Kubs (Subhash Thakrar). Kubs speaks only through facial expressions – Thakrar is marvelous throughout with his big face an d exaggerated mugging. 

Balas explains that this memo is written a new, language – PTYDEPE – scientifically created for precision of expression, as a means to improved efficiency. It is being rolled out in administrative offices everywhere.
And it is here where The Memo strikes a dagger in the heart of the contemporary cultural ethos: those who adopt PTYDEPE will succeed, those who don’t will fall by the wayside - not so different than office apps that come and go. We watch as the Executive Director is coaxed into signing an authorization for this roll out, which then leads to the implementation of a PTYDEPE training department, and an unfolding world where The Office comes pickled in an Orwellian brine of 1984.

For context, Havel was that rare “poet king” who helped lead his people to freedom. Before the Arab Spring there was a failed Prague Spring (1968), an effort to liberate Czechoslovakia from the Communist Block. Dissident Havel ended up in prison. As with China today and the Soviet Union back then, Czechoslovakia’s totalitarian censorship inspired a flourishing expression of dark humored workarounds, lampoons, and with Havel, absurdist plays like The Memorandum– discrete takedowns of the excesses of central control.

While the object of the humor was obvious to audiences - the government censors could not pin down objections in those subtly subversive words on the page, making the power of the works even stronger. Eventually Czechoslovakia’s Velvet Revolution (1989) precipitated the fall of the Soviet Union, and Havel became president of his now independent homeland. 

The performances and Havel’s characters are magnetic. The intellectual currency that the Organic Theater’s troupe has brought to The Memo is inestimable, informing inspired performances by supporting actors like Mary Mikva as the Director’s Assistant and Kris Downing as Translation Assistant. (Downing was awesome in Organic's production of The Melancholy Play, too.)

In particular the performance of Nick Bryant as J.V. Brown, the PTYDEPE trainer, is inspired – and a tour de force of acting as he shifts back and forth translating nonsense language to English with the passion of a revival preacher. You will love and surely recognize the many denizens of this office, incluidng Stephanie Sullivan as Kalous; Schanora Wimpie as Masat; Kate Black-Spence as Kunc; and Laura Sturm as Talaura. Don’t miss the chance to see The Memo, running at the Greenhouse Theater through June 16.