The Body of a Woman as a Battlefield in the Bosnian War - Effective & Sensitive
The Body of a Woman as a Battlefield in the Bosnian War -- it has a harrowing yet poetic sound just in the title. And this Vancouver Fringe production, held in the Cultch Lab, is at once poetic, harrowing, compelling, and horrifying. Yet, its ending is more positive and hopeful than you might expect. Although I also love many of the one-person, self-authored shows you see at the Fringe, I really appreciated the chance to see a serious production of this 1997 play by the acclaimed Romanian author Matei Visniec. I am keen to explore the rest of his oeuvre now.
Sinziana Corozel, as Dorra and "Balkan Man", switches, seemingly effortlessly, between the role of traumatized gang-rape victim and generic "Balkan Man". "Balkan Man" is about drinking, being with friends, honour, and, when the drinking has had its sorry effects, self-reproach. This switch is facilitated with clever use of clothing (props to the costume designer, Izabela Gereb, whom I had the pleasure to meet this summer).
Dorra is alternately mute and enraged. Her response to her pregnancy as she describes how she can feel "that thing" crawling coldly through her insides poignantly conveys the repulsion that an involuntarily pregnant woman can feel. From the narrator, we learn about the reasoning behind rape as a weapon of war, how women very often know their attackers as their neighbours, how rape demoralizes the enemy, and, I get the impression, being a rapist is an "easier" way to fight and participate in a war than being a soldier who climbs up cliffs and sleeps in the forest.
Qelsey Zeeper, as Kate, the Harvard-trained psychologist, portrays an American with a goodhearted, helpful nature that is not quite equal (if anyone can be) to the task of excavating mass graves. Ironically, she is the psychologist who is supposed to monitor the mental health of the rest of the team, so her trauma is not noted by anyone. She comes to this NATO treatment facility to recover, and meets Dorra.
The play explores ethnic stereotypes, in a humorous and somewhat self-deprecating skit with "Balkan Man" using music to identify groups and riff about them. For me, the skit poked at questions like these: Is it wrong to stereotype, but yet, is there something valid to the stereotypes? Is it okay to stereotype, if it is a positive one? What does cultural self-identity mean? Does taking on a cultural identity mean losing an individual identity?
What I was not clear about is to what extent someone who is both a patient and a professional, like Kate, would be allowed to interact with other victims. Isn't there a possibility of traumatized patients interacting badly if there is no supervision? But ultimately, the play is not really about the clinical details of how PTSD facilities manage patients. For me, the juxtaposition of Kate and Dorra raised questions about whether you can "grade" trauma. Dorra has been gang-raped and made pregnant; Kate has witnessed and participated in numerous mass-grave explorations. Kate never seems to lose touch with the world; Dorra clearly does. Does it make sense to say who has it worse?
The play explores Freudian concepts like "infantile sadism", and asks whether there is an analogous concept for a people who have never had a nation-state. I had difficulty with this idea, as some of the most famous instances of wartime rape in the 20th century include the infamous mass rapes in Nanking and Berlin, by soldiers from definitive nation-states. I would like to have heard more about this subject. I have read that other productions are as long as 105 minutes; perhaps some scenes have been cut to fit time limits.
This is an intense, dark, yet humorous drama that has been effectively and sensitively produced, with some standout acting.