Theater Review: “Wounded”

“Wounded”

Powerhouse Theatre

April 13-May 19, 2007

“Wounded” aggressively ventures where the nightly news dares not tread.

The reality of warfare and its horrific aftermath are given four faces in the play “Wounded,” put on by the Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble and the Powerhouse Theatre Company. The play, which consists overwhelmingly of UCLA alumni, is one big slap-in-the face reality check, a reminder that soldiers are forever fighting and struggling long after they leave the war zone.

The play follows wounded Iraqi war veterans as they enter a long and arduous recovery process at a rehabilitation home in Washington, D.C.

Albert Meijer plays Doc, a medic who has lost his leg and any intimate connection with his wife or bond with his baby daughter. His wife wants to help him rehabilitate, but the demons he holds from his time in Iraq have created a distance between them that neither can repair.

The only female veteran, Beth, played by Emily Rose, was a pilot who lost both of her legs in the war. She still dreams of returning to Iraq, but with each passing day, the likelihood of her dream diminishes.

Meanwhile, Angel, played by Carly Reeves, enters the play as the girlfriend of a veteran who is a triple-amputee in a coma. Still a young woman, Angel must decide if she is willing to spend the rest of her life caring for a man who will never be the one she knew before.

With a set consisting only of four suspended panels, a few folding chairs and a card table, the performers definitely fill the space with plenty of drama and emotion.

Emeka Nnadi gives an especially powerful performance as Bill, a veteran who lost his eyesight in the war and is struggling to live in a world he can no longer see and to admit that his violent outbursts are most likely due to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Nnadi manages to use the f-word nearly every 30 seconds while sounding eloquent rather than inappropriate or vulgar. His goose-bump worthy, deep-voiced monologues are filled with anger and resentment. The frustration of his character is tragic but still convincing.

As an audience member, it is difficult not to feel guilty for tearing the soldiers’ families apart or causing depression and anxiety for the young men our country sends to war.

However, “Wounded” shows the audience that, regardless of their view about the war in Iraq, there are consequences for the soldiers that should not be forgotten. The soldiers’ families are forever altered, recurrent nightmares and flashbacks become a part of their daily lives, and they are faced with the enduring frustration of rehabilitation.

The play manages to convey the tragedy of war without being outright anti-war; it does not try to convince the audience what is right or wrong about the war in Iraq. There is even debate between a few of the characters in which they all have very different opinions about the United States’ involvement in the war.

Instead, the play seems to focus on a concern for the individual soldiers. It is fascinating to see their strong bond with one another and their unspoken understanding of each other’s hardships that their family members cannot seem to tap into.

“Wounded” is solemn and dark in subject matter, mood and setting. The small, dimly lit theater makes for a very intimate performance. It is easy to miss the historic, slightly run-down theater in Santa Monica, but once inside it feels like a private performance for just a few special guests.

Loud musical interludes between scenes ““ some sounding like club music, others with a garage-band vibe ““ made unusual but not overly abrupt transitions throughout the performance. At times, they even managed to lighten the mood a bit from the seriousness of the subject matter.

“Wounded” is a serious and disturbing play. Several tears were shed, both in the audience and onstage. However, the subject matter’s timeliness and the powerful performances make it a necessary watch for a more complete picture of the reality of war.

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