By David Greenham

Through around 10 scenes, spanning over a decade, Wish You Were Here looks at political oppression through the domestic lens of lost love and friendships.

Wish You Were Here by Sanaz Toossi. Directed by Melory Mirashrafi. Scenic design by Lindsay G. Fuori. Costume design by KJ Gilmer. Lighting design by Amanda Fallon. Composer and sound design by Bahar Royee. Produced by Gloucester Stage Company, 268 East Main Street, Gloucester, through August 25.

Josephine Moshiri Elwood, Deniz Khateri, Cerra Cardwell, and Isan Salem in the Gloucester Stage production of Wish You Were Here. Photo: Jason Grow

Sanaz Toossi’s Wish You Were Here is not your usual summer theater fare. The script is not as nuanced and fine-tuned as the dramatist’s Pulitzer prize-winning play English, which Speakeasy Stage produced a couple of years ago, but it is consistently interesting, and the Gloucester Stage Company production features a wonderful ensemble cast of five actresses.

This is a historical drama, set in a living room of a home in Karaj, a large city just west of Tehran. An opening frieze shows Nazanin (Deniz Khateri) and Rana (Aryana Asefirad) around a dressing table helping Salme (Josephine Moshiri Elwood) adjust her dress and makeup for her wedding. On the couch, Shideh (Cerra Cardwell) applies nail polish to Zari’s (Isan Salem) toes.

Americans don’t have a solid sense of the past, particularly regarding what happens in foreign countries, so few will have a firm grasp of the Iranian Cultural Revolution and the first Gulf War, which occurred just over 40 years ago. Those of us who were alive may recall the saga of the hostages taken at the American embassy and held for more than a year. Or the strange doings of the Iran/Contra affair may have struck an enduring chord. Wish You Were Here imagines, on a domestic level, how the political and religious changes on the ground at the time affected a small group of Iranian women.

It’s 1978, and these five best friends have only the slightest sense of the upheaval that the coming revolution will bring.

The young women laugh freely about sex and penises, and dream of going to school or moving to Miami. Hope for a happy and carefree life abounds. Salme, the most devout of the group, prays for her friends to find a fulfilling life. Nazanin and Rana share a loving relationship — they seem to be the closest of the group. Shideh is determined to go to medical school. She and Zari announce their plans to eventually go to America, but they promise they’ll return some day. Zari is curious to learn more about what happens on the wedding night. They happily gossip about her future lover’s penis: “When you first see one, smile,” Salme advises with joy.

A year of so later, as the movement toward the enforcement of strict Islamic law gains momentum, the mood has changed. This time it’s Zari in the wedding dress; she is solemnly preparing for her big day. Rana is gone. A Jew, she and her family disappeared quickly once the authoritarian Islamic leaders took control. No one knows where she is, and Nazanin is heartbroken, but still hopeful. “This will all blow over in a year,” she says, as if she is trying to convince herself.

Soon, Shideh and Zari are gone — escaped to America, and Salme and Nazanin are left supporting each other in the darkest days of conflict and fear.

Through around 10 scenes, spanning over a decade, Wish You Were Here looks at political oppression through the domestic lens of lost love and friendships. On her wedding day, Nazanin finally gets the nerve to stand up to her friend Salme’s dominating displays of devout religion. “I want a day without your prayers,” she begs.

Isan Salem and Cerra Cardwell in the GSC production of Wish You Were Here. Photo: Jason Grow

In the next scene we learn that Salme has drowned in a tragic and preventable accident related to her quest to remain devout, even at the risk of her own life. Eventually, Nazanin is isolated and lonely. She’s the one who did not escape and feels completely hopeless.

Toward the end of the 100-minute story (with a 15-minute intermission), a glimmer of light arrives. Zari and Shideh return for a sweet, laugh-filled visit, although Shideh swears her own daughter will never learn of the conflict that ravaged her homeland. “The ground beneath her feet is going to be still,” she dreams. Even Rana reappears in a loving phone call with Nazanin. She’s safe in California and working at a Pizza Hut.

Skillfully staged by Melory Mirashrafi, who also directed the Speakeasy production of English, the performance moves at a crisp pace. The play, however, misses some of the political layering that would have deepened our appreciation of the pressures on Toossi’s characters. Save for noises of protests and shouting, the revolution is kept offstage — it is an invisible weight crushing the women. While KJ Gilmer’s lovely costumes chronicle the ways dress styles change over the years, Lindsay G. Fuori’s set is static, and Amanda Fallon’s lights rarely hint that uncomfortable realities sit outside of the room. To be fair, I’m not sure the script calls for any of that, but emphasizing the dangerous cultural context, especially in these days of  violent repression around the globe, makes theatrical sense. Only Bahar Royee’s sound design goes beneath the production’s overly placid veneer to evoke the souls of the characters.

Cerra Cardwell, Isan Salem, Deniz Khateri, Josephine Moshiri Elwood in the Gloucester Stage Company production of Wish You Were Here. Photo: Jason Grow

Luckily, the actors, especially Deniz Khateri’s Nazanin, are outstanding. Cerra Cardwell’s Shideh is boisterous and fun, Josephine Moshiri Elwood’s Salme exudes a striking clarity, and Isan Salem’s Zari is delightful, especially the wide-eyed wonder she supplies in the early scenes. (Later on, this naiveté grows into a quiet confidence.) Based on her early moments with Khateri’s Nazanin, Aryana Asefirad’s Rana might be the script’s most compelling figure. It would have been terrific to see what develops between the two of them. But that’s the point, isn’t it? Wherever we are, the politics of our land affects our life paths —  relationships can be snatched away in an instant by circumstances beyond our control.

America is in the midst of its own revolution. The outcome is far from decided, but years of ideological and cultural turmoil have impacted our actions, beliefs, and fears. At this point in time, Wish You Were Here taps into our fantasy that, somehow, this ugly disturbance will go away, that less complicated times will return. As Nazanin notes, “God, I used to be so dumb. I’d give anything to feel that way again.” Toossi, and history, suggest that innocence has been lost.

David Greenham is an arts and culture consultant, adjunct lecturer on Drama at the University of Maine at Augusta, and is the former executive director of the Maine Arts Commission. He can be found at https://davidgreenham.com/