War Is Swell

THE UNITED STATES is about to invade Japan. On a recently recaptured Pacific island, one member of a platoon has just received his papers of leave to return to the States. The rest face death on the shores of Japan.

The War Years

By Stewart Thomsen

Directed by Laurence Thomsen

At Adams House Kronauer Space tonight and tomorrow

This is the premise for "Hoorah for Kelsey," one of two one-act plays that make up The War Years, appearing in the Kronauer Space of Adams House this weekend only. Directed by Laurence Thomsen and produced by Sean O'Brien, the production makes optimal use of a subterranean crypt that only the hippest theater artiste could consider a legitimate stage.

The other play is "Soup," set in a Russian gulag where a group of Polish prisoners try to deal with life under the oppressive Soviet regime; both were written by Stewart Thomsen '83.

Thomsen is obviously fascinated by the tumultuous years following the outbreak of World War II, and he is not an incompetent writer. But it works against Thomsen that more has been said, written, and filmed about the big WW II than any other event of this century--much of it by people who actually lived through the events. All that is left, it seems, is the makings of obscure allegory--a fact that Thomsen does not manage to escape.

The cast often rises to the occasion presented by the difficult and un-idiomatic scripts. Danny O'Keefe is particularly plausible as Kelsey's enthusiastic buddy in "Hoorah" and even better as the martyred intellectual Jozef in "Soup." Whether playing a drunk marine or a pensive exile, O'Keefe frequently is the only believable character on stage.

Adam Fratto, however, receives the highest praise that a critic can heap upon a thespian. This man--yes, ladies and gentlemen, this very man--not only consumes but actually keeps down a whole can of beer pounded in five seconds flat on stage. This after half a case of beer has already been consumed by the cast of six. Sure, it's not much of a feat for a Friday night, but these guys still have another one-act to go. Kudos.

The rest of the cast has a tougher time of it. It is not always that they are untalented; individually they no doubt can hold their own with the best. But when asked to play a crowd scene as a group of battle-weary marines, these hapless undergrads come closer to innocents abroad. They exude the same kind of pseudo-confidence with which teen-age virgin boys discuss sex.

To make things worse, instead of the spicy language that real warriors use, the script forces them to blurt lines like, "I was as dumbfounded as you." Dumbfounded. I've never even heard even Archie Epps use that word in conversation--let alone a combat soldier.

Although laden with several conspicuous flaws, The War Years nevertheless holds together as an evening's entertainment--an enjoyable, if not entirely credible, journey to the time when the seeds of a modern world were just beginning to germinate under the fertilizer of a world destroyed. If you happen to be in the Adams House basement, check it out.