Rock Docudrama About Sarajevo Is Passionate Stage Experience

----------------------------------------------------------------- Theater review

"Sarajevo: Behind God's Back." By Amir Beso, Srdjan Yevdjevich and Talvin Wilks. Directed by Tim Bond, produced by Group Theatre, Seattle Center. Tuesdays-Sundays through Nov. 5. 441-1299. -----------------------------------------------------------------

The power and passion of rock and roll electrify the new stage musical, "Sarajevo: Behind God's Back" at Group Theatre.

Listening to Bosnian rockers Amir (Lazy) Beso and Srdjan (Gino) Yevdjevich blast through their shattering Metallica-like tunes is like diving into the hellish core of war-ravaged Sarajevo - a city throbbing with insistent life, despite its terrible familiarity with death.

An amalgam of video, music and choral acting, "Sarajevo: Behind God's Back" is still finding itself as a cohesive rock docudrama. But it is a remarkable, one-of-a-kind event - the unsparing war diary of two idealistic young artists, slashed with wonder, disillusionment and fierce concern. It started with "Hair"

Beso and Yevdjevich, you may recall, initiated a dark-edged production of "Hair" in Sarajevo as a symbol of protest against the Bosnian civil war. Two years ago Beso, a Muslim, sustained a serious shrapnel wound. His Serbian friend Yevdjevich helped him leave Bosnia for medical aid, and the two later reunited in the U.S.

Reshaped with many collaborators and director Tim Bond, Beso and Yevdjevich's memories of life in Sarajevo come through in a lively, jagged-edged bombardment, with mixed-media cross-referencing. Both men front the show's hard-driving band. They also appear on tape, on the video monitors dominating Beliz Brothers' set (along with an amazing wall of empty plastic water jugs).

The rockers are also portrayed by actors Doug Rosson and Michael Steuber, with 10 more performers composing a Sarajevan chorus. Add in Terry Simpson's mesmerizing pastiche of video images - mostly heartbreaking news clips of Bosnian devastation.

We've all cringed at such scenes before. But here they take on a new immediacy and anguish, as we explore the war from the inside-out.

The notion of ethno-religious conflicts as a rationale for the conflict is soundly debunked. ("I never thought of myself as a Muslim until it became a reason for someone to kill me," observes Beso). And the choice of violence vs. pacifism both men wrestle with becomes very real. Evocative script

The script, by Yevdjevich, Beso and Talvin Wilks, also captures the feisty hipness of Sarajevo, long a haven for young artists. There a pack of cigarettes is worth more there than a refrigerator, and only gallows humor staves off war-induced madness.

With a candlelit acoustic version of "Let the Sun Shine In," the Bosnian "Hair" is poignantly recalled. But "Sarajevo" ignites whenever Beso, a terrific guitarist, and Yevdjevich, a go-for-broke wailer, tear into such original tunes as Beso's blazing "Peace Brother!," "Bosnian Blues," and "Streets of Hell."

Bond has pulled this wide-ranging effort together surprisingly smoothly, with Steven Klein's sound and Vikki Benner's lighting as key elements.

What misfires? The superfluous mimetic choral scenes. The paucity of dance. And a muddled last act in search of tightening and climax.

Though rooted in Bosnia, "Sarajevo" is a warning about future wars, too. The message boils down to the title of an old Who song: "Won't Get Fooled Again." And the ardent messengers sure do put it across.