Wounded

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One of the fascinating things about humans is how easily they mask intense feelings in a cloak of smiles and good humor. Pain, both physical and emotional, can be disguised but not completely hidden from the discerning eye. It sometimes emerges as an edgy joke or sarcastic observation. Regardless of how glimpses behind the mask are revealed, they are ultimately revealed and not always to the person wearing the cloak.

Wounded, written by Jiggs Burgess, is a story using a cloak of humor to obscure the pain and dark feelings being hidden by the protagonists. Although referred to as a comedy or dark comedy, it should be noted that the simple addition of humor does not make it so. This play is a serious drama, in the full meaning of that form, with some humorous elements.

Del Shores skillfully directs an excellent ensemble of three players to expose layers of emotional and physical wounds in the characters. Shores and the cast successfully create a deceptive cover for the story’s final destination, with the dramatic tension slowly building to a surprising and unexpected ending. It is a play worth experiencing, even with a few issues concerning the logic in some of the characters’ interactions.

The first act opens with a woman, Katie Bridges (Kristen McCullough), guiding a wheelchair into an area with a park bench. The setting represents a park in a small town in Texas. She is speaking to the person in the wheelchair. Her name is Elizabeth, but her mother calls her Sparrow. She is Katie’s 13-year-old daughter who, it is revealed later in the first act, was severely injured in a hit-and-run accident five years earlier. Also revealed late in the first act is how she came to be called Sparrow. It is an important revelation concerning Katie’s mental state and reveals a powerful, unhealed wound.

As Katie speaks to Sparrow, she is constantly interrupted by her mother, who calls Katie on her cell phone. Her mother, Birdie, is hiding somewhere in the park watching Katie. The overprotectiveness of Katie’s mother is an intrusion into the relaxing atmosphere of her time in the park. The dialog she has with her mother contains funny moments that add lightness to the discomfort Katie is feeling due to her mother’s intrusion. The character Birdie is never heard nor seen.

After the call, Katie takes out a book to read to Sparrow, but the moment is disrupted when a flamboyant, larger-than-life man appears and sits on the bench. This is Carrol Lohr (Craig Taggart), who turns out to have grown up in the town and recently came back to care for his mother after his father died suddenly. He is the successful author of three books, one of which was made into a movie that failed. He is the central character in the play.

The exchanges between these two start with Katie adopting a contentious tone, questioning Carrol’s presence on what she considers her bench. At one point, in an attempt to intimidate him, she says she has a gun in her bag. Carrol takes a more conciliatory tone, trying to calm Katie and establish a positive connection. This exchange moves from tense and cautious exchanges to funny quips and comments. The time on the bench reveals important details of Carrol’s backstory.

A call from Katie’s mother leads to a funny conversation between Birdie and Carrol, ending with a comment that adds a layer of mystery to the developing story. Carrol says: “…but, Birdie…that wasn’t her fault and you know it…no…I know, Birdie…no ma’am…that was not her fault…or yours…there’s nothing either one of you could have done…”

After Carrol dismisses himself to prepare for a visit from a “gentleman friend,” Katie reveals an important detail about how Sparrow got her name, revealing a deep wound from Katie’s childhood.

The second act opens with Carroll talking to the hummingbirds congregating at the feeders on his back porch. His outfit is more flamboyant than it was at the park, with a floral caftan over his orange t-shirt and striped silk pajama pants. He is busy arranging multiple dishes of food in preparation for the visit of his “gentleman friend.” It turns out that Carroll’s way of dealing with stress is basically an eating disorder. His dress and behavior leave no doubt as to his character being a queer queen.

When his slim, well-built high school friend, Robert (Shaw Jones), arrives, a different set of dynamics is introduced. These two have a history from their childhood through their early twenties. Carroll’s memory of the events of those years is much clearer than Robert’s. It turns out that Carroll had a crush on Robert, and he knew that Robert was probably a homosexual, but who kept it to himself. Even now, as an adult, Robert has a hard time admitting he was gay when in high school, saying that he did not discover it until he was in college.

Carroll, on the other hand, reveals his understanding of his queerness started at a very early age. As the two lightly flirt with each other, occasionally sniping, the conversation turns darker as the cloak of humor falters, revealing details of Robert’s current difficulties, part of which involves Katie’s situation, which left Robert with deep psychological wounds. Into this mix, elements of Carroll’s experiences with Robert in high school later come to light, revealing the raw wounds Carroll has carried since high school, wounds that have led to this meeting on the back porch of his home, and, ultimately, to a resolution to the dramatic tension.

The ensemble of McCullough, Taggert, and Jones is first-rate by believably embodying the emotional complexities of their characters. McCullough’s portrayal of Katie as a mother dealing with the tragedy of a severely disabled child, the collapse of her marriage, and the loss of the dreams she had for herself and her daughter is compelling. She executes monologues of explication with precision, delivering the emotional gravitas her character’s situation demands. Taggert solidly portrays a queer, Southern gentleman who over-compensates with food and flamboyance for his deep emotional wounds related to his homosexuality. He does it without hyperbole or by presenting Carroll as a caricature. Jones has the most difficult task in presenting Robert as the anxious, conflicted ex-addict struggling with his failure to understand and deal with the wounds that led to his current situation. Jones does it fully, giving a strong characterization of Robert.

Set designer Evan Frank does an effect job with the venue’s small stage. A park bench in the first act works well and the addition of patio furniture for the second act is well done. The sound design by Adam Matthew works effectively with the sets in completing the illusion of the settings, the sound of children and birds in the first act and birds and a dog in the second act. Tying it all together in both acts is Carter O. Ford’s lighting design.

Wounded (through March 16, 2025)

SoHo Playhouse, 15 Vandam Street, in Manhattan.

For tickets, visit http://www.ci.ovationtix.com/35583/production/1184332

Running time: two hours and 30 minutes including an intermission