By Alexis Soloski
By R. C. Baker
By Alexis Soloski
By Tom Sellar
By Araceli Cruz
By Brienne Walsh
By Alexis Soloski
By Alexis Soloski
Gay is okay, officially, with the Swedish, Belgian, and even Israeli armies, but the American military has this little problem. It won't register the idea that people who prefer same-sex erotic partners are always going to be attracted to a system that segregates the genders, puts them in uniform, and drills them into close-knit groups with strict discipline. The Pentagon's tried every method to weed out gay (and, since World War II, lesbian) soldiers: bigotry, courts-martial, dishonorable discharges, segregation in psychiatric wards, public humiliation, and now don't-ask-don't-tell. But nothing works. You might as well try to weed dandelions out of a meadow; the prevailing winds will always carry them back in. It's the Pentagon's refusal to accept this reality that's against nature.
And when man goes against nature, the results are inevitably dramatic, as proven by Another American Asking and Telling, in which author-performer Marc Wolf carries Anna Deavere Smith's interview-and-impersonate tactics into the thickets of U.S. policy concerning gays in the military. Unlike Deavere Smith, Wolf has built in certain limits, both artistic and ideological. He displays a less extensive range of speakers, and tends to confine what we hear from them more strictly to the issue, where Deavere Smith might have looked for illumination in the atmosphere surrounding it. Without treating any of his speakers unfairly, Wolf also makes no secret of where his sympathies lie: Those who argue against open acceptance of gays in the military aregiven comparatively less stage time, and their arguments, when rational, tend to be succeeded by a better argument for the other side, as when a veteran combat officer's talk about how disruptive influences weaken a unit's fighting power is immediately followed by the recollections of a gay Vietnam vet who credits his overtly nelly humor and pluck with helping to bring his buddies out of the country alive.
Wolf, however, has strong justifications for tilting the material as he does. For one, the arguments against gays in the military aren't arguments, merely clutches of fear-based or dogma-based bigotry, with which no rational discussion is possible. For another, he hardly needs the opposing side to articulate such opinions, which so many gay and lesbian soldiers carry within them. His terse, two-hour evening is dotted with anecdotes of secret terrors, clandestine affairs, the panic that follows the dawning of homosexual awareness.
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Andthe ultimate justification of Wolf's approachpanic turns out to be the right reaction, because the stories that make Another American so gripping are a prolonged parade of horrors visited on gay soldiers, from bureaucratic spite and blackmail down to sadism, torture, rape, and murder. The Dominican-born naval officer who, early on, testifies before a Senate committee that he would refuse to serve on the same ship with gays because they're "against God" might have some interesting things to say, from a moral standpoint, about the MPs who brutalized Marine recruit Ed Clayton, the army intelligence officer who turned Colonel Edward Modesto's life into a hell of false accusations and public scandal, the navy man whose shoeprint was embedded in the face of Seaman Allen Hajdys's corpse. Yes, gays and lesbians in the armed forces have ample reason to suppress their own instincts. "That's something I'd be willing to lie about," says an anonymous army lieutenant whose ex-lover has threatened to tell his commanding officer, while a retired colonel, sitting with her lesbian lover, talks about how she would never put a picture of another woman on her desk: "I had a picture of a dog."
Wolf paints this picture of a dog's life, as well as the righteous fury and bitter frustration that have emerged from it, with the simplest of means. Brian MacDevitt's lights section off areas of the stage for him; David Van Tieghem's sober sound design backs the conversation with passing planes or trams. The rest is left to Wolf's body and voice, under Joe Mantello's unobtrusive direction. The voice lightens or darkens to suit; the flexible body catches, without caricature, people's habits of stance and gesture. Less flamboyantly assured than Deavere Smith, Wolf is sometimes better at anchoring his characters: Watch the way his eyes narrow in remembered fright as Clayton describes being raped in the Camp Pendleton brig, or the complex half-smile that overtakes Sergeant Miriam Ben Shalom as she describes how, after her judicial reinstatement, only black troops would sit with her in the mess hall.
Ben Shalom is Wolf's key case, because, however much homosexuality preoccupies his characters, it has nothing to do with the real issuewhich is, as Ben Shalom's supportive commanding officer (an African American) puts it, "Who do I want beside me when I fight?" This has no more to do with sexual preference than with height or hair color, but the American military has this little problem. "They spend," Ben Shalom says bitterly, "half a billion dollars a year on ferreting out queers." Your tax dollars, pacific reader, and mine. And now the president who promulgated "don't ask, don't tell" has announced that it doesn't work. Somebody'd better make sure his successor's policy planners catch Wolf's show.