Karina Gonzalez Photos.
Inside the Flint Street theater, the atmosphere was thick with intensity. On screen, protagonist Slinger stood at a sink washing dishes, water running steadily over his hands. One moment, he was present, the faucet making a steady woosh. The next, he was in the midst of a post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) flashback, the screen stained in a deep, heavy red.
”I’m amazed, I think this is the most realistic piece of work I’ve ever seen relative to death by suicide and what’s going on with weapons in the United States and around the world,” said military veteran Rod Welch several minutes later.
These words, which Welch spoke during a post-screening Q&A session of the 2025 film, “American Solitaire, set a quiet and powerful tone on a recent weeknight. The film, from writer and director Aaron Davidman, acknowledges and explores the long-term effects of trauma, PTSD, suicidality, and threat of self-harm on veterans returning to civilian life from combat.
The event was organized by the Connecticut Veterans Legal Center (CVLC), a nonprofit that provides free legal representation to military veterans, many of whom are still struggling to get back on their feet.
The film follows Slinger (actor Joshua Close), as he returns home after serving three tours in Afghanistan. As he tries to adapt to civilian life, he is forced to reevaluate his relationship with violence and weapons. Throughout his journey toward emotional recovery, Slinger struggles with unresolved trauma, fractured relationships with his father, and the distance between himself and his son.
Suddenly, something as simple as washing dishes becomes a nightmare. His hands are still in the water, for instance, but in his mind, he is frantically putting a rifle together and taking it apart. In this waking nightmare, it isn’t made of metal — he is building a gun out of severed body parts. As the film rolled, the image made the audience gasp and shake their heads in shock, feeling the heavy weight of his broken mind.
The 43-minute panel discussion afterwards was moderated by Alison Weir, executive director of the CVLC and a United States Air Force veteran. Featured panelists included veterans like Welch and Gladys Silva-Perales, as well as Davidman. Speakers examined the systemic and personal challenges service members encounter when departing active duty.
Throughout the evening, speakers and audience members talked about how accurately the movie depicted the quiet battles of transitioning back to civilian life, dealing with trauma, and understanding the weight, both literal and figurative, of carrying firearms.
Welch, who served nearly 40 years in the military, going from an enlisted private all the way to a general officer, described his own experience transitioning out of the military. He noted the difference between structured military environments and normal day-to-day routines.
“You go from 100 miles an hour to literally zero,” he said. “In the military everything is scheduled … When you leave, you’re off the network, your badges are gone, and every day can feel like a Saturday.”
Welch was not the only one affected this way. Silva-Perales, who served five years in military intelligence around 9/11, also reflected on post-service adjustment. Silva-Perales is the founder of She Served Too, an organization created to raise awareness about women in the military, ensuring that female veterans are recognized and acknowledged for their military service. During the discussion, she spoke about the social isolation that can follow military departure.
“That transition off is really hard,” SIlva-Perales said during the panel. "The only friends I had were mostly people I served with. So it’s hard in that aspect, just being so alone.”
The emotional tension in the theater peaked during a dining room scene, where a conversation took place between Slinger and Emmett (Jamir Vega), the nephew of Slinger’s late friend Auggie (Gilbert Owuor), who lost his life to suicide. They had just walked into the room, which was covered in yellow floral wallpaper. There was no food on the circular dining table.
Slinger spoke in a low, serious voice, and Emmett asked questions, curious to know more about his uncle’s death. The camera stayed close between their faces, capturing the quiet intensity between the two.
Instead of an argument, the tension built entirely through their quiet words and a strong, locked eye contact between the two. Emmett held Slinger’s gaze as he searched for answers about his uncle’s life and death. After a heavy moment, Emmett simply stood up, left his chair behind, and walked out of the room.
Davidman previously said this was the hardest scene for him to film. Even without any shouting, the moment felt heavy; people in the theater were quietly waiting to see what happened next.
By bringing these hidden struggles into the open, the evening felt like more than just a movie screening. It was a reminder that stepping back into civilian life can feel isolating, but no one has to navigate it alone. Through storytelling, shared experiences, and the help of local organizations, the community is building a stronger bridge for those coming home.
“What happens if they take that weapon, which is a weapon of destruction, and they turn it into something that’s a weapon of creativity, and not only that, but memorializing … and something of growth,” Davidman said. “And so that's the journey of the movie.”
This article comes from the ninth cohort of the Arts Council's Youth Arts Journalism Initiative (YAJI). Karina Gonzalez is a sophomore at Acellus Academy. She was previously at Engineering and Science University Magnet School (ESUMS).