Theatre in Review: Blood and Gifts (Lincoln Center Theatre/Mitzi E. Newhouse Theatre)

	Left to right. Bernard White, Andrew Weems, Pej Vahdat, Andres Munar, J.Paul Nicholas, and Jeremy Davidson. Photo: T. Charles Erickson.

The opening lengths on the long road to Operation Iraqi Freedom and its seemingly endless aftermath are traced with rare lucidity in Blood and Gifts. J.T. Rogers' wide-angle drama is also an illuminating lesson in the law of unintended consequences, showing how US efforts at containing the Soviet Union in the Islamic world set the stage for the geopolitical chaos there today. It's a rich narrative, loaded with revelations and reversals, and utterly dismaying in its conclusions. As bombs continue to explode in Afghanistan, and as the US-Pakistan "alliance" becomes ever more frayed, possibly past the point of no return, this production couldn't be more timely.

Begun as a contribution to The Great Game: Afghanistan, the cycle of plays produced by London's Tricycle Theatre and seen in New York last year under the aegis of the Public Theater, Blood and Gifts grew beyond its initial one-act remit and was staged at London's National Theatre in 2010. (Whole sections of Blood and Gifts could be folded seamlessly into The Great Game.) It now takes in more than a dozen characters over the course of a decade; the action begins in 1981, two years after the Soviet Union has invaded Afghanistan in order to preserve its influence there. James Warnock, a CIA operative, arrives in Pakistan with a plan to funnel money and weapons to the mujahedeen, keeping alive their guerilla war against the Soviet military machine. (As someone cynically notes, the plan isn't so much to win the battle as to keep the Russians mired in a Vietnam-like quagmire.) Denied access to Afghanistan, however, Warnock must use the Pakistan military as the conduit for his goods - and Pakistan has an agenda of its own.

The main point of contention involves who should receive the most assistance. Warnock prefers Abdullah Khan, a warlord with whom he labors to build a close, trusting relationship. Colonel Afridi, the Pakistani representative, insists that the bulk of the resources go to his own client, Guluddin Hetmatyar, an extreme Islamist who doesn't shy away from murdering his own people. The conflict between the goals of the US and Pakistan becomes even more pronounced as Pakistani policy shifts in favor of a pro-Islamist stance.

Over the next decade, Warnock moves in and out of Pakistan, struggling to honor his promises to Abdullah Khan under constantly changing circumstances -- including the rise of Mikhail Gorbachev, Washington politics, and Pakistani power plays. As Warnock learns, he is engaged in a chess game in which every move will result in some form of collateral damage. Watching from the sidelines are Simon Craig, a representative from MI6, and Dmitri Gromov, a Russian spy; neither is the possessor of unbloodied hands, but together they act as a kind of Greek chorus, foreseeing the personal tragedy and political muddle to come.

"I need somebody I can trust," says Walter Barnes, Warnock's superior at Langley, a request that will not be honored as Abdullah Khan angles for better weapons, Colonel Afridi siphons off money for a new Jaguar, and, back in Washington, the Senate demands rosy scenarios to justify its allocations. Abdullah Khan is brought to the Capitol and made to offer a Hollywood-style portrait of a freedom fighter that gets the checks written, no matter how unlikely it is. Even as the game winds down and winners and losers are sorted out, the cost to all is astoundingly high. Warnock, Craig, and Gromov all sacrifice their marriages to stay in the game, losing touch with their children, as well. The Soviet Union finally retreats, leaving behind a devastated country ruled by warlords, with the Taliban poised to take over. And Pakistan is transformed into an incubator of fundamentalist Islam and anti-American rage. As someone sadly notes, "Great men are almost always bad men." The men in Blood and Gifts are neither --they simply cut so many corners that, when their objective is achieved, it no longer seems worth the effort.

Given the large cast of characters, the complicated political background, and the script's focus on the rather abstract business of smuggling money and arms to an army that remains largely offstage, it must be noted that Blood and Gifts takes a fair amount of time to exert its grip. Also, Rogers isn't especially gifted at fleshing out his characters with distinctive details. Warnock is a fairly standard American innocent, who must be taught that the end doesn't justify the means. Craig, the boozy, ineffectual, truth-telling Brit expat, will be instantly recognizable to anyone who has read more than two pages of Graham Greene or John Le Carré. Colonel Afridi is the wily Oriental of so many plays and films. (Rogers also gets a couple too many easy laughs with the Afghan characters' fascination with American pop music.) And, even with its many people and places, the focus of Blood and Gifts is somewhat narrow; such ancillary events as the Iran-Contra scandal receive scant attention.

But, under the smartly paced direction of Bartlett Sher, the tension builds, the ironies multiply, and crimes are committed for reasons that seem less and less clear as the damage piles up. Jeremy Davidson provides Warnock with very real inflections of regret, especially as his wife and new child slip away from him. Jefferson Mays takes the somewhat clichéd role of Craig as he finds it, enlivening it with his acidulous delivery. ("Russians being shot by Chinese bullets -- sometimes this work is so beautiful," comments Craig about one of Warnock's early deals.) Also, his drunken breakdown at a US embassy party is particularly well done. Michael Aronov is a constantly intriguing presence as Gromov. "At this rate, we will be inseparable, like Stalin and Roosevelt, or Sonny and Cher," says Aronov, buddying up, not entirely successfully, with Warnock. There are also strong contributions from Gabriel Ruiz, smiling and infinitely treacherous as Afridi; Bernard White, a powerful and dignified figure as Abdullah Khan; Robert Hogan as a shallow, yet politically crafty, senator; and John Proccacino as Barnes, who knows how little good any of them are doing. ("Now shut up while I'm pontificating," he snaps as Warnock.)

Michael Yeargan's basic set, a beautifully patterned floor with an upstage wall that is suitable for showing projections of Afghanistan's mountains or hanging a real American flag, is lit by Donald Holder with his usual authority -- reshaping the space with perfectly timed moving light cues and setting interior scenes with patterns suggestive of louvered windows. Catherine Zuber's costumes -- military uniforms, gray suits for the DC scenes, and typical Afghan wear -- feel thoroughly authentic. Peter John Still's sound design includes such period hits as "Hotel California," offstage explosions, and the rush of an overhead airplane that might be one of the craft that crashed into the Twin Towers.

Blood and Gifts is far from perfect, but it becomes more and more involving as it goes along, and, in any case, we have to be grateful to have a playwright with Rogers' ambitions. There's more to the world than domestic tragedies and identity politics -- a lesson that many American playwrights could learn to their benefit. --David Barbour