The Class (2005), Matjaž Zupančič’s latest play, is yet another example of the cleverness of this playwright in dealing with the burning questions of our everyday “globalized” life. The Class is a black comedy that hits a painful nerve the question of modern mysticism as it is created by contemporary technocracy and all-embracing management. We live in a world of manuals, recommended knowledge and required skills, all of which are necessary just to keep our heads above water in this merciless market-driven world, to prevent us from drowning along with abolished departments, outdated products and regressive ways of thinking. We have probably never lived so precariously in terms of employment: today we may have success and luxury or at least a more or less decent living wage but tomorrow everything could suddenly turn upside down. However exposed we are, though, we are not alone. Marketing experts have developed all kinds of systems and mechanisms to help us. There are therapists, stylists, experts in information technology, communications, marketing, transfers, and so on, who are trying to cloud our vision. And they are somehow on the right track, because we’re already floating in a haze of fear: fear of losing our jobs, of being incompetent, of coping with an insecure position in life.

In depicting these new mechanisms, Zupančič is both witty and poisonous. In his play, a candidate appears in front of the corporate experts for re-training the sole representative of an entire department which was to be abolished. He is slightly insecure and somewhat confused as to what is expected of him, but he’s determined to succeed and ready for anything. No sacrifice is too great if it means we can enter a happy, new class of people with jobs and a guaranteed income.