Playwright: Robert Koon. At: Chicago Dramatists, 1105 W. Chicago Ave. Tickets: 312-633-0630; www.chicagodramatists.org; $32. Runs through: June 23
Hankie-wringers seeking a good weep will have to look elsewhere than Robert Koon's cliche-free "after the war" playa genre by now as rigidly circumscribed as Greek tragedy. For one, our ex-serviceman's injuries are relatively minor and were sustained, not under enemy fire, but in a freak off-duty accident. His PTSD does not manifest itself in hallucination-riddled nightmares, but in morning sickness exacerbated by prescription medications. Like all veterans in popular fiction, he has trouble adjusting to "normal" civilian life, but Koon may be the first playwright to question how "normal" that life is.
The stage may be covered with iconic images of the Vietnam war eraNixon, Kennedy, protest marches, M-16 riflesbut in rural Minnesota circa 1972, pettier issues (draft-deferred college students trade in illegally procured government supplies, while a depressed economy engenders marital discord as spouses are forced to work separate shifts and a pregnant matron considers fleeing to Canada, where abortions are legal) dominate the landscape. Should we wonder that former-GI Frank finds himself increasingly mistrustful of the unconditionaland uncomprehendingsympathies extended by citizens suffering their own conflicts in a changing society? Or that when he finally lashes out at the anomie, he fully acknowledges his alien status therein?
Koon's play also breaks with formula by not providing tidy resolutions to the problems faced by his characters. We are told that Frank's car has been found abandoned, and his brother, a deputy sheriff, is missinghas the former committed suicide, or is the latter transporting him to jail/therapy/anywhere, as long as it's far away from a home he no longer recognizes? Will sister-in-law Maria take a trip to Winnipeg, and will she return afterward? Will the severely-beaten young black-market entrepreneur continue his business after recovering from his injuries, or will he be replaced by another "Jody"the name bestowed by soldiers stationed overseas upon their comrades remaining stateside.
Tears for ambiguously defined "heroes" are as cheap as they are plentiful in a country experiencing no on-site military combat since 1865, but persuading audiences to care about the walking wounded is a harder task. This doesn't stop director Kimberly Senior and a cast led by Matt Holzfeind (who wears his olive-drab resignation with uncanny accuracy) lending emotional depth and humanity to familiar personalities still evident today, struggling amid the incertitude following another war, making us speculate on their fortunes long after we leave the theater.