Into the Maw of Hell, Chased by ‘Tracers’

The term “stage combat” usually refers to a carefully blocked domestic quarrel, or a neatly choreographed duel in tights. Rarely does it involve any depiction of war.

Rarely, too, does a play about Vietnam concern itself with the hell and fury of mortar fire. Dramatists tend to deal instead with warriors coming apart before they’ve left the barracks (David Rabe’s “Streamers”) or, as in Emily Mann’s “Still Life,” the aftershocks of a homecoming.

“Tracers” has elements of these and others, but it’s different: It goes straight for the viscera. This blunt theatrical collage, now in a 20th anniversary revival at the Odyssey Theatre Ensemble, re-creates the cold-sweat feeling of being treated like a “maggot” by a quintessentially demoralizing drill instructor (Vaughn Armstrong). And then the going gets rough.

In its collage portrait of seven Americans fighting a profoundly stupid war, it wants it all: The panic, blood lust and terror of killing and being killed; the regrets and the shakes; the camaraderie; everything.

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In 1980, John DiFusco and seven other Vietnam vets collaborated on a series of workshops that led to the group-scripted “Tracers.” Opening on the Fourth of July that year, the Odyssey premiere ran several months. The play then went on to productions in Chicago, New York, London--all before Oliver Stone’s “Platoon” and Stanley Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket” explained it all for us, vividly in different ways, patly and reductively in others.

As director, DiFusco knows what he wants from “Tracers”: intensity, plus precision. The early scenes with drill instructor Williams play fast and hard. The later scenes in and around combat contain some admirably orchestrated chaos.

The play has the ring of first-person truth, along with its routine and schematic bits. It’s a nearly three-hour shriek of a production, and that’s a tough thing to bring off.

The best actors, with DiFusco’s help, nail the extremes and locate the interior places in between. As Habu, the soldier who knows better than most his way around a “free-fire zone,” Richard Biggs is exceptional. When he’s offstage, the production sorely misses his easy authority. Armstrong’s Sgt. Williams has the look, sound and live-wire quality of the real thing. Abner Genece’s Little John is an imposing yet oddly gentle presence, and Genece makes the character’s latter-day rage very affecting.

Other performances are slick--too slick by half. Roberto Bacalski’s newbie, Baby San, seems to be auditioning for “Biloxi Blues.” Greg Fitzpatrick’s Dinky Dau has the stuff the role takes, but as of opening night, he hadn’t cleared away the shtick.

“Tracers” has its moments of blistering black comedy, to be sure. But as arranged by DiFusco and his co-authors, the material doesn’t need the extra oomph in performance. It needs clean technique, honesty and dispatch. It needs everything, in other words, the U.S. involvement couldn’t show for itself.

* “Tracers,” Odyssey Theatre Ensemble, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., West Los Angeles. Wednesdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Also 2 p.m. Feb. 25. No performance Jan. 17. Ends March 4. $12-$23.50. Pay-what-you-can Jan. 25, Feb. 7 and 22. (310) 477-2055. Running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes.

Vaughn Armstrong: Sgt. Williams

Roberto Bacalski: Baby San

James Isaac Barry: Professor

Richard Biggs: Habu

Ricardo Antonio Chavira: Doc

Greg Fitzpatrick: Dinky Dau

Abner Genece: Little John

Damon Shalit: Scooter

Conceived and directed by John DiFusco. Written by Vincent Caristi, Richard Chaves, John DiFusco, Eric E. Emerson, Rick Gallavan, Merlin Marston, Harry Stephens, with Sheldon Lettich. Scenic design by Mark Svastics. Costumes by Anya Berger. Lighting by John J. Fejes. Sound by Erik Bleuer and John DiFusco. Production stage manager Susan Segal.