How can revolution and war tear at the bonds of female friendship – and at what cost? Sanaz Toossi’s West Coast premiere of her alternately funny and emotional play “Wish You Were Here” explores that question in the context of Iran’s 1979 political revolution and subsequent eight-year war with Iraq. Five friends lose each other during that time, finding that the opposite of love is loneliness.
The play opens in 1978 Iran, in a living room anchored by a Persian rug (scenic design by Afsoon Pajoufar) as four young women — with the playful exuberance of a slumber party — help their friend Salme (Tara Grammy) prepare for her wedding in a poufy white dress. Though the women have unique personalities, they share a close physical intimacy and trust, doing one another’s hair, makeup and nails while ribbing each other about their knowledge of sex.
In the next scene, a year has passed and the friends are now helping Zari (Mitra Jouhari) prepare for her wedding, similarly to the first scene but without friend Rana (Sahar Bibiyan), who has mysteriously gone missing with her Jewish family.
Besides Rana’s disappearance, only oblique references to an increasingly threatening political atmosphere over the years hint at what’s going on outside the domestic sphere of these scenes as Iran transitions from a Westernized monarchy to Islamic republic and suffers through war. Instead, we get those details from a timeline in the playbill mapped to each of the play’s 10 scenes.
That structure — a series of vignettes over 13 years— is ambitious in scope and commendable in conveying a transitional time in Iran’s history through the lives of five women with large hearts and quick minds. Each scene offers a glimpse of how the friendships dwindle and change over time and how the women are affected.
As directed by Mina Morita, each scene features lively dialogue punctuated by humor even as the women grapple with loss and difficult life choices in the circumstances of the time. However, without that outside context made more explicit, it’s hard to discern where the story is going, what’s at stake and how each scene contributes to the larger narrative.
If anything, it becomes apparent that the story belongs to Nazanin (Awni Abdi-Bahri), the one who stays behind in Iran as the others leave. She trades her dream of becoming an engineer for work as a seamstress — evidenced only by an unfinished dress on a dummy in her living room — as education for women in Iran is curtailed in favor of covering with an abaya in public.
Though Nazanin is married with two children, we see only toys on the floor and no mention of her husband. This is the women’s story above all, covering the gamut of female life, lovingly rendered through the daily minutiae of hair waxing, nail painting, bug squeamishness and surprise menstrual periods, with the men remaining a world apart (though we are left wondering why Salme, the most devout among them, becomes a chain smoker after her marriage).
We also see that Shideh (Artemis Pebdani) — the only one who seems to physically age over the years — managed to complete her education and work as an engineer, though somehow the feeling between her and Nazanin has been lost. And we eventually learn the fate of the disappeared Rana, adding another hopeful if poignant note to the end and another potential connection for Nazanin, though it’s unclear if she’ll pursue it.
The actresses, some of whom are also accomplished writers, fully embrace their roles, with Abdi-Bahri confidently embodying Nazanin’s emotional strength, Bibiyan conveying Rana’s sharp passion, Grammy aglow with Salme’s soft compassion, Jouhari immersed in Zari’s childlike innocence and Pebdani believably delivering Shideh’s fierce wit. As an ensemble, they make palpable the deep love among these women.
Costumes (Shahrzad Mazaheri) are also beautifully rendered, especially the chiffon dresses, changing subtly in style over the decade-plus of time. Musical interludes between scenes (sound design by Veronika Vorel) also change subtly as time progresses, the Farsi songs ending abruptly as each new scene begins, as if played on the women’s radio that cuts in and out, perhaps reflecting the sudden changes in their lives.
Overall, “Wish You Were Here” paints a textured portrait of life during a time of rapid change and upheaval, told through a lush feminine lens, reflecting the intimate voices and perspectives of women who might have lived through it. Toossi, a Pulitzer Prize-winning Iranian-American playwright and Orange County native, has said the play is a “love letter” to her immigrant mother. It’s the love among these women that saturates this play and makes it worth dwelling in.
“Wish You Were Here” continues at South Coast Repertory, 655 Town Center Dr., Costa Mesa, through Feb. 2, with performances Wednesdays through Fridays at 7:45 p.m., Saturdays at 2:00 p.m. and 7:45 p.m., and Sundays at 2:00 p.m. and additionally 7:00 p.m. on Feb. 2. For tickets and information, call the box office at (714) 708-5555 or visit SCR.org. Run time is 90 minutes with no intermission.
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