IN Los Angeles
September 2005

In times of strife, artistic interpretations have the opportunity to flourish and offer a perspective on what is usually a multi-faceted story. Playwright/performer Heather Raffo has taken advantage of this phenomenon to create an astounding glimpse into the tenacity of Iraqi women in the face of conflict. Without ever relying on clichés or cultural condescension, Nine Parts of Desire gives strength to the voices that don't often have the chance to be heard.

Raffo is an Iraqi-American who spent years conducting a series of interviews to piece together her one-woman show. Under the direction of Joanna Settle, she uses nothing more than a long black cloth and a series of convincing and distinct accents to transform herself into a myriad of different women who face living in fear -- fear of life under Hussein's regime, fear of American invasion in two separate wars, and fear of a society that can simultaneously oppress and cherish its women. It is a stunning performance that covers much ground, both socially and politically, through her characters, without ever locking in on any specific moral position.

The transitions between women are not smooth -- they are purposefully shattering, making it seem like the previous character still lingers on, ghostlike, while the new one takes over. Raffo takes full advantage of the expansive set, cleverly designed by Antje Ellermann so whether she is in a bunker with charred bodies or in an artist's loft, the same space shifts right along with her characters. Raffo's greatest inspiration for Nine Parts of Desire were exhibits of Hussein portraits and nude females that she saw at the Saddam Art Center -- her attachment to these works is clear when she inhabits the artist, Layal Attar, a rough-voiced, glamorous bohemian who has the opportunity to leave her country but chooses not to. Some characters are less subtle than others, relying on bone-chilling accounts to get their point across: a teeny-bopping child, kept inside her house for months, recalls how she unintentionally caused her father's disappearance; a pro-war intellectual laments the fate of assaulted women; a doctor watches in horror after watching multiple births of mutated babies after the first Gulf War. The list continues, some women reemerging and others fading away, forgotten. What is most impressive is that Raffo never passes judgment on her characters; she simply allows them to speak through her.