In war-weary Kyiv, wounded Ukrainian veterans turn epic poetry into living testimony

In the heart of Kyiv, a unique theatrical production has brought together Ukrainian war veterans and drama students in a powerful reimagining of a classic tale. The adaptation of “Eneida,” an 18th-century Ukrainian version of Virgil’s “Aeneid,” opened Thursday at Kyiv’s National Academic Molodyy Theatre, featuring performers who have experienced the brutality of Russia’s invasion firsthand.

The production, over a year in the making, includes veterans who returned from the frontlines with amputations, severe burns, and vision loss. Many had never performed on stage before this project, which was created by the Theater of Veterans organization, founded by members of Ukraine’s Territorial Defense Forces.

Director Olha Semioshkina, 51, faced unique challenges in preparing the cast. “We knew the guys had just come back from rehabilitation, and we had to start from the very beginning,” she explained. “We spent about four months simply learning to communicate, to fall, to group, to roll, to get together. Then we began developing the body, taking off prosthetics and learning to exist without them.”

Semioshkina’s concept draws direct parallels between the ancient hero Aeneas and the modern Ukrainian soldier. In Virgil’s original epic, Aeneas wanders after Troy’s fall, searching for a new homeland. Kotliarevskyi’s Ukrainian adaptation transforms him into a rowdy Cossack. In this production, Aeneas appears with prosthetic limbs and war scars, symbolizing the wounded but resilient Ukrainian spirit.

“Aeneas is a hero who goes through a lot in search for his land,” Semioshkina noted. “He preserves humor, passion, he falls, he goes through horrors, drinks and parties. But he is a human, and he has a goal — to find his place and preserve his family.”

The parallels between myth and reality become starkly apparent throughout the performance. Yehor Babenko, a Border Service veteran who suffered severe burns early in the Russian invasion, delivers a line with grim humor: “Feeling burned out at work? We have a lot in common.” His monologue continues with painful personal resonance as he speaks about fire taking his hands, ears, and nose.

For Babenko, the stage has become a place of healing. “For me, theater is both psychological and physical rehabilitation. I’ve noticed I feel my body better, feel more confident in public, express my thoughts better,” he said. The story’s themes of homeland and displacement echo Ukraine’s current struggle, now approaching its fourth year since Russia’s full-scale invasion began in February 2022.

The production’s most powerful moments come when the actors break character to share their own wartime experiences. One veteran describes losing his leg in a drone strike and using his machine gun as a makeshift crutch. A female performer recounts the horror of living under Russian occupation with her two young daughters. Another, who volunteered as a medic first in 2014 during Russia’s illegal annexation of Crimea and again after the 2022 invasion, speaks of returning to war in her sixties.

Andrii Onopriienko, who lost his sight in a Russian artillery strike near Avdiivka in 2023, provides the performance’s resonant narration. Initially reluctant to join the project because of his blindness, he now finds the theater a refuge. “It’s positivity, laughter, support,” he explained. “No matter what mood you come in, you leave with a big smile. Here you distract yourself from the present. You enter another world.”

The production incorporates the veterans’ physical realities into its artistic language. Prosthetic limbs are removed and reattached as part of the visual storytelling. Long metal rods serve dual purposes as props and balance aids for performers with amputations.

Even on opening night, the ongoing war made its presence felt. Before the performance began, audience members were advised about air raid shelter procedures and potential blackouts. Indeed, during Babenko’s climactic monologue, the power did fail. Rather than halting the performance, Semioshkina and others grabbed flashlights, creating an improvised spotlight that allowed the show to continue.

The audience, some quietly weeping and others laughing through tears, remained in their seats throughout the power outage. When the final monologue concluded and the curtain fell only to rise again, the cast received a standing ovation. As they took their second bow, the electricity returned, amplifying the already thunderous applause.

For Semioshkina, the production carries a message that extends far beyond the theater’s walls. “I would like to send a message to all veterans who are sitting at home: Come out,” she urged. “You can do something. Live. Don’t close yourself off. Live every single minute.”

As Ukraine continues to defend itself against Russian aggression, this production stands as a testament to the country’s resilience and the healing power of art in the face of trauma.