The average Hollywood war film is a men’s game that deals predominantly with the troubles on the front line and the trials of the soldier. What is usually ignored are the lives behind the front line, of the women who are waiting at home.
“Eclipsed,” written by Danai Gurira and currently playing at the Kirk Douglas Theatre until Oct. 18, is a look at the lives of the women in times of war ““ of those at home and, in some cases, of those who decide to fight.
Set during the 2003 Liberian Civil War, the play explores the lives of five women, four of whom are the wives of a commanding officer and are each given the same regard as one would give to a pet. All are in a powerless position: some through sad acceptance and others, such as the estranged wife number two, through military rebellion.
The fifth woman, a peace worker named Rita (Michael Hyatt), is introduced later into the story, and she, too, has tragedy in her past.
Yet she can be seen as the catalyst of change for each woman, as well as representing the countless real-life peace workers who helped to end the 2003 conflict.
Each woman in “Eclipsed” does a powerful job with her respective role, none falling into caricature territory. Their motives are all understandable, and their individual development is not rushed.
Honorable mention must be given to Bahni Turpin for her portrayal of the first wife, referred to as Number One. While her performance does not call for a heavy monologue or a tragic background exposition, she conveys both sadness and dignity through her quiet navigation of circumstances that have left her powerless.
But the newest and youngest addition to the menagerie, Number Four, portrayed by Miriam F. Glover, is a problematic character. Though she goes through the most drastic transformations, it is never revealed why she is such a subject of interest for Number One, Number Two and Rita.
Though her behavior may be attributed to her youth or innocence, other women–like so many that are taken captive by rebel soldiers– are not given as much attention as Number Four.
The play, while compelling in terms of its dialogue and dramatic portrayal, offers nothing innovative in terms of its war narrative.
While the first act gives a very interesting glance at the world of the women and their attitudes toward the horrible circumstances around them, the second half falls into a typical war narrative with stories of atrocities, rebellion and personal change.
The central theme of that half, of the importance of identity, seems like merely an afterthought. It is never truly explored as to why the real name of each wife is so important; the story of the second half feels similar to countless other stories of war told by women from all over the world.
What does make the story atypical is the use of humor found within it, most expertly delivered by Number Three, portrayed by Edwina Findley. This humor is what elevates the story from the many wartime stories that have been told before it.
As such, it makes the story feel more true to life. The play shows that in order to survive the surrounding horrors of reality, people need to find some way to cope, to find their own source of joy, however rudimentary it might be.
The joy for the wives comes within a typical medium: a book. Yet the book subject, a biography of former president Bill Clinton, is not as important as what the book represents.
To the wives, the tale of Clinton and his scandal with Monica Lewinsky ““ his “Number Two,” much to the amusement of the audience ““ is a means of escape, a source of joy.
And that is the essential notion gained from “Eclipsed.” Despite its heavy-handed treatment of the abusive treatment of women during wartime and its trite, afterthought-like message about the importance of identity, “Eclipsed” is truthful in its portrayal of finding simple joys and a sense of purpose within chaos.
It shows that in war, those that endure the greatest hardships are not just the soldiers on the front line but the women who are at home, fighting their own personal battles.
– Diep Tran
E-mail Tran at dtran@media.ucla.edu.