Hot Pepper, Air Conditioner, and the Farewell Speech

Think of a Japanese version of the TV sitcom "The Office"—without the situations but with an indefinable bleakness underlying the comedy—and you have an idea of what goes on in "Hot Pepper, Air Conditioner, and the Farewell Speech." Furthermore, add into the mix constant eccentric movement for the actors, heightening their characters' sense of disconnect. The movement often seems to be more in sync with the music soundtrack than with the words they're saying.

This choreography is a trademark of writer-director Toshiki Okada, the artistic director of Japan's Chelfitsch Theater Company, whose productions have been gaining increasing international recognition. As a clue to Okada's offbeat thinking and thematic concerns, his company's name represents a baby's garbled pronunciation of the English word "selfish."

In this three-part work, performed in Japanese, Okada portrays the quiet malaise of his country's young office workers enveloped in an economic downturn. It makes for quirky, impeccably acted theater, relevant and surprisingly funny. At the start, three temp workers (Riki Takeda, Saho Ito, and Fumie Yokoo) attempt without much success to plan a farewell party for a fourth temp, Erika, whose contract has been cut short. It's repeatedly suggested that they use for guidance Hot Pepper, a free monthly magazine carrying restaurant coupons, but their thoughts eventually turn to their own future  farewell parties.

In the second part, two full-time workers discuss the office air conditioning. The woman (Mari Ando) complains that it's too cold and affecting her poor circulation. The man (Taichi Yamagata) suggests that she go to the police to discover who's been changing the thermostat. The exchange, with the woman's coquettishness and the man's responsive movements (undulating hips, for one), begins to vibrate with a funny sexual tension—unacknowledged, of course.

In the final part, Erika (Kei Namba) delivers her rambling farewell speech as colleagues listen politely. The seeming apathy almost gives way to hysteria when she describes how she crushed a dying insect on her way to work, but all is resolved when she receives a parting gift of soothing bath salts.

The action all takes place in a sleek but appropriately impersonal-looking break room. Special praise is due the English surtitles (the translation is by Aya Ogawa). Projected with great clarity onto the set's back wall, they're concise and spaced so that the laughs hit home.

Presented by and at Japan Society as part of the Public Theater's Under the Radar Festival, 333 E. 47th St., NYC. Jan. 5–14. Schedule varies. (212) 715-1258 or www.japansociety.org.