STAGE REVIEW : OCC Play Puts Faces on Chernobyl’s Fatalities

Vladimir Gubaryev, a science editor for Pravda, the Soviet Union’s state-run newspaper, was reportedly so disturbed by the Chernobyl nuclear accident that he wrote “Sarcophagus” in a fury of emotion and ambition. His play seems to have two worthy, far-reaching objectives: to dramatize the human pain of the worst nuclear catastrophe ever and to examine the specifics of misfeasance and malfeasance that led up to it.

These twin concerns don’t always link gracefully in “Sarcophagus,” but the work has an impact. It holds our attention by putting men’s faces on the fatality figures as we watch plant workers and firefighters after the reactor explosion, slowly succumbing to radiation sickness in an isolated hospital ward. Forgiving “Sarcophagus” its often-confusing and talky investigative side does not require too much generosity.

At Orange Coast College, a cast of students and more experienced actors, including OCC instructors, tap into the play’s humanist element while maintaining a naturalistic balance. Director Joan McGillis keeps everything reined in, although she does let Steven Lee Shults take too many liberties with Bessmertny, a young patient who is on the ward before the reactor explodes.

Shults and McGillis both seem to see the wry Bessmertny, who has survived longer than expected after passing out drunk in a lab during a radiation experiment, as a symbol of hope, the manifestation of will. Shults plays him with compassion, but the depth of the character prompts Shults to reach further than he should.

“Sarcophagus” opens with Bessmertny’s reflections on the uniqueness of his experience: At this point, he’s a lone victim, and the threat of radiation seems to have limited scope. But with the reactor explosion, the danger expands and seems to take on the entire globe. Bessmertny realizes this, and the audience is expected to follow his lead.

Soon the ward is crowded with victims, each assigned to a tiny cubicle, where his vital signs are monitored. There’s a red light above the room: When it blinks, the nurses rush in; when it goes out, another man has died. The patients talk about the accident and their lives, most of them brave in their understanding that even bone marrow transplants are unlikely to save them.

Later, Gubaryev turns reporter, bringing in an investigator assigned to find out what happened. We hear accusations concerning lax safety conditions at the plant, no protective gear for firefighters, incompetent training. There’s a blurry contention that there was pressure to open Chernobyl ahead of schedule, possibly when it wasn’t ready. These points are intriguing, but “Sarcophagus” presents them in a scattered way.

And then there’s the introduction of an American surgeon (obviously based on Robert Gale, who flew to Chernobyl shortly after the accident), giving Gubaryev the opportunity to make a plea for more superpower cooperation. You can’t fault that, but it seems forced and preachy in this context.

Except for Bessmertny, there are no major roles. Within the ensemble, there are decent performances, including Eric Person’s as a courageous technician; Sharr White’s as a naive, romantic fireman; Bryan S. Luterman’s as a plant physicist, and Joyce Eriksen and Alex Golson’s as Soviet surgeons.

The production is aided by David Scaglione’s deliberately indifferent-looking set of the icy-white ward, and by Ponzer Berkman and F.H. Furness’ provocative lighting.

‘SARCOPHAGUS’

An Orange Coast College production of Vladimir Gubaryev’s drama. Directed by Joan McGillis. With Steven Lee Shults, Jacquie Moffett, Kathleen Kaeffer, Marie Bouquet, Jennifer Krokower, Alex Golson, Peter Roche, Thomas S. Hensley, Kay McNamar, Anthony Ramirez, William Meadows, Randy Campbell, Joyce Eriksen, Gil Fuhrer, Mark Coyan, Harriet Whitmyer, Sharr White, Aaron Paholski, Eric Person, Bryan S. Luterman and Kelly Flynn. Set and sound by David Scaglione. Lighting by Ponzer Berkman and F.H. Furness. Costumes by Bryan S. Luterman. Plays Thursday through Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. at the campus Drama Lab, 2701 Fairview Road, Costa Mesa. Tickets: $5.50 and $7. (714) 432-5880.