KYIV, Ukraine (AP) 鈥� Sitting in a circle the day before opening night, veterans and drama students took turns reading their lines from a script that traveled centuries to reach them.
At the center was Olha Semioshkina, directing the group through her adaptation of 鈥淓neida鈥� by Ivan Kotliarevskyi 鈥� an 18th-century Ukrainian reimagining of Virgil’s 鈥淎eneid.鈥� This production, though, had a modern-day message about resilience in the face of the war that’s nearing since
The actors 鈥� men and women in their 20s to 60s 鈥� included Ukrainian military veterans who had returned from the front with amputations, severe burns and sight loss. Others had on the homefront. Many had never set foot on a stage before this play.
The production was created by Theater of Veterans, an organization founded by members of Ukraine鈥檚 Territorial Defense Forces that provides theatrical training and stage opportunities for former service members as part of their reintegration and recovery.
It took more than a year to prepare for Thursday鈥檚 premiere at Kyiv鈥檚 National Academic Molodyy Theatre.
鈥淲e knew the guys had just come back from rehabilitation, and we had to start from the very beginning,鈥� Semioshkina said.
鈥淲e spent about four months simply learning to communicate, to fall, to group, to roll, to get together,鈥� she said. 鈥淭hen we began developing the body, taking off prosthetics and learning to exist without them.鈥�
The 51-year-old director鈥檚 concept was simple: 鈥淓very man on stage is Aeneas. Every woman on stage is Dido.鈥�
In Virgil鈥檚 epic, Aeneas wanders after the fall of Troy, searching for a new homeland. In Kotliarevskyi鈥檚 satirical adaptation, the Trojan hero becomes a Cossack, rowdy and earthy.
On Kyiv鈥檚 stage, Aeneas wears prosthetic limbs and bears scars from the war that began with Russia’s Feb. 24, 2022, invasion of Ukraine.
鈥淎eneas is a hero who goes through a lot in search for his land,鈥� Semioshkina said. 鈥淗e preserves humor, passion, he falls, he goes through horrors, drinks and parties. But he is a human, and he has a goal 鈥� to find his place and preserve his family.鈥�
She draws parallels between the veterans who endured combat and the character they play on stage. 鈥淎eneas is the one who went to war. Yes, he returned mutilated, broken,” she said, but the actors bringing this adaptation to life “are learning to live鈥� again.
Where myth and reality converge
During rehearsal, Yehor Babenko, a veteran of Ukraine鈥檚 Border Service who suffered severe burns early in the Russian invasion, delivered a line with a grin: 鈥淔eeling burned out at work? We have a lot in common.鈥�
Later in the play, his monologue also hit close to home as he spoke about fire taking his hands, ears and nose. 鈥淚 won鈥檛 be able to show children a trick with a missing finger,鈥� he says. 鈥淢aybe the one when all 10 fingers disappear.鈥�
The opportunity to perform onstage, Babenko said, has been a healing journey.
鈥淔or me, theater is both psychological and physical rehabilitation. I鈥檝e noticed I feel my body better, feel more confident in public, express my thoughts better.鈥�
For Babenko, the story of Aeneas resonates beyond the stage. 鈥淚t鈥檚 about searching for your land,鈥� he said. 鈥淎nd for our country, that鈥檚 very relevant now.鈥�
Breaking character to tell their own stories
The play鈥檚 final act departed from epic poetry altogether as the actors stepped forward to tell their own stories 鈥� about combat injuries, lost brothers in arms, displacement and life under occupation.
One veteran described losing his leg in a drone strike and using a machine gun as a crutch to reach cover. A female actor recounted with her two daughters.
Another, who volunteered as a medic, first in 2014, when Russia illegally annexed Crimea and pro-Russian forces captured parts of Ukraine鈥檚 Donetsk and Luhansk regions, and again after the 2022 Russian invasion, spoke of returning to war in her 60s.
Andrii Onopriienko, who lost his sight in a Russian artillery strike near Avdiivka, in the Donetsk region, in 2023, narrated much of the performance in a deep, resonant voice. At one point he sang: 鈥淟et our enemies dig up holes, install crosses, and lie down on their own,鈥� as the rest of the cast joined in.
Onopriienko initially refused to join the project. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 understand what I would do on stage blind,鈥� he said. He later was persuaded that there would be a role for him.
鈥淚t鈥檚 positivity, laughter, support,鈥� he said of rehearsals. 鈥淣o matter what mood you come in, you leave with a big smile; Here you distract yourself from the present. You enter another world.鈥�
Despite war, the show must go on
Onstage, prosthetic legs and arms were removed and put back on as part of the play’s visual language. Long metal rods doubled as swords, oars and crutches 鈥� used as both an artistic instrument and a tool to help actors with amputations keep balance.
The war intruded even before the curtain rose on Thursday. An announcement asked the audience to follow the usual theater protocol and silence their phones 鈥� then warned that in case of an air raid, they should head to the basement shelter. If a blackout occurred, it added, the show would pause for the backup power generators to be turned on.
As Babenko delivered his monologue minutes before the performance ended, the power did go out.
Semioshkina stepped onto the stage with a flashlight, followed by others holding flashlights. Babenko delivered his lines in the beam of the improvised spotlight. The audience, some quietly weeping, some laughing through tears, stayed.
When the last monologue ended and the curtain fell and rose again, the cast was met with a standing ovation. As they bowed a second time, the electricity returned, and the applause swelled.
For Semioshkina, the message of veterans on stage extends beyond epic poetry and the theater walls.
鈥淚 would like to send a message to all veterans who are sitting at home: Come out,鈥� she said. 鈥淐ome out. You can do something. Live. Don鈥檛 close yourself off. Live every single minute.鈥�
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