I'm going to break my own rules a bit here... although, as the lauded Dr Peter Venkman would say, these are more like guidelines than rules.
I'm going to leap frog other plays chronologically (which I did once with an Andrew Bovell play) for this play written in 2010. I'm going to treat it more like a review than most of the blogs where I'm focusing on my encountering of "the great plays"... and on that last point, I'm including it amongst the great plays despite it being less prominent and well known.
So why am I breaking the rules like some scruffy-looking nerf herder. I'm glad you, the fictitious reader of this blog, were poised to ask. Firstly, I have been passionate about greek mythology from my pre-teens, around the same time as I was introduced to super heroes and there's obviously a fair bit of cross over. I remember buying a book called "Gods, Demigods and Demons" (which I still have) from the scholastic book club and became hooked, reading "The Greek Myths" by Robert Graves and eventually "The Illiad" and "The Odyssey", which I have now read, watched and listened to several times, along with movies and other works inspired by them. So that's the `why I'm interested' part.
The 'why now' part is because I had bought tickets to watch "An Illiad" with my son Bobby at the Wharf Theatre in a one man show starring David Wenham - a favourite actor of both mine and Bobby's (particularly after he saw the movies "Gettin' Square" and "Spit")... so it was a mix of seeing this actor, this story and encountering another theatre I'd never been in ... the Wharf Theatre.
And to be honest, it's not a huge stretch to consider this for inclusion alongside "the great plays" in as much as "The Illiad" was composed (orally) around 650 BCE, and written 522 BCE and along with its sequel, "The Odyssey", is not only one of the oldest surviving works of literature, is still widely read and revisited in other formats.
And the other reason for including this show in this set of 100 plays... I had a major heart attack literally seven days before the show. It was touch and go and while I'm still figuring out where all of my pieces are going to land, one thing that seemed fairly clear was to enjoy the one per centers... the things that make life feel like you're actually living it. And not necessarily big item bucket list things, just some of the joys of living, and for me, this show qualified. With doctor's instructions, and the support of both my sons, Jamie and Bobby (and thanks to my daughter who bought the extra ticket), we went to the show. And while writing this blog definitely doesn't feel like a life priority, experiencing more plays DOES for me personally.. and so the 100 plays journey goes on, and this one is included.
Ok. So after that lengthy exposition, was it any good? Read on for my thoughts.
The story behind "An Illiad"
I guess, straight off the bat the thing that strikes you is the slight name change to the title. Not "The Illiad", but "An Illiad". The use of the indefinite article is quite appropriate. The voluminous text of the original, depending on the translation, runs to between 150,000 to 200,000 words. And while I've read it (once) and listened to it as an audiobook (several times) I don't think I or any audience member would have the patience to sit through the amount of hours it would take to reiterate the whole thing.
Instead the writers provide a broad summarised overview while focusing specifically on several lead characters... mostly Hector and Achilles, but thankfully, also Patroclus... whose story is not commonly given a lot of attention.
And who are the writers? Going into this production I incorrectly assumed it was a brand new work written for this production. Buh bow. It was written in 2012 by a writing team that included actor Denis O'Hare (who you might recognise from the "American Horror" TV franchise and "True Blood" among a stack of other shows, movies and theatrical productions), and Lisa Peterson ... a writer and prolific director who was moved by America's invasion of Iraq to write something that commented on the never ending cycles of war. Lisa directed the first production and her co-writer Denis O'Hare played the solo role of the poet.
This adaptation of Homer's original is based on a translation by Robert Fagles ... chosen against other translations by Stanley Lombardo and Robert Fitzgerald for it's particular poetic style and coherence with their message of unending wars... and this play has now been performed widely since then, including previously in Australia.
The Play
I've not been to the Wharf Theatre before and don't know how it is usually set up, but for "An Illiad" it was presented as a half an amphitheatre, two sides facing a central flat bare black-walled stage. The play commences with The Poet, David Wenham, wheeling out a large cart, equipped with a seeming mish mash of paraphernalia that he has wheeled from town to town over the ages.
The Poet takes from the cart and sets up the lighting for his performance, a bit like Talking Heads in their landmark theatrical concert "Stop Making Sense", adding elements to a bare stage as he goes, unrushed and practiced, as he has presumably done hundreds of times before.
And when he speaks, true to the original source, it begins with an invocation (in Greek) beginning with the word rage, as he enlists the assistance of the muses to tell his story (sing his song) in the vain hopes it might make an impact. But he is not hopeful. Like Sisyphus, he prepares to roll his boulder up the mountain one more time. "Every time I sing this song, I hope it's the last time," the Poet tells us. But it's never the last time.
The story positions the Poet as essentially an incarnation of Homer who has told his story, or his song as he calls it, throughout the millennia, something like the mythical wandering jew that taunted Christ and is cursed to walk the Earth until the second coming. And he is world weary for it. The Poet speaks of times when his song attracted many, and times when it now attracts few... of times that it seemed his message was impactful, and times it fell on deaf ears. And he wonders if there is a point, or if he can do justice to singing his song. But it falls to him to do it, so he does.
Condensing a great deal of story into a bite sized summary for an audience that may not be aware of it, the writers provide a potted overview. It was the Trojan War. Helen, wife of Menelaus, leader of Sparta is kidnapped by Paris, song of Priam (the king of Troy, or Illium). Menelaus assembles an army of 10,000 men from the various Greek nations, or Achaeans, led by Menelaus' brother Agamemnon, king of Mycenea... an army the size and like of which had never before been seen before, and featuring renowned characters such as Achilles, Odysseus, Ajax, Diomedes and Patroclus.
And you don't need to know the whole back story, but their summary is helpful and brief. But to help get the message across they use the device of localising what that would be like today. For this Australian production, the Poet imagines contingents from across Australia... from Geelong, and Karratha, and Bendigo, and Ipswich and... and "GOULBURN ... the town with the big sheep" (shoutout to my homies). And it is an effective tool for demonstrating how whole communities sent away their best and brightest to this war, and for that matter to all wars, with many never to return.
From his starting point of a world-weary exhaustion, Wenham's Poet opens to this intimate connection of personalising and making the war effort more tangible and resonant. And the poet gains enthusiasm as he goes, as he grows into the task of singing us the song of Hector and Achilles ... and of rage. As the Poet continues his story, he is by the muse, or musician, Helen Svoboda, who is brought cleverly on to the stage and continues to emphasise his points and moments with bass, flute and singing. As a brief aside, her gorgeous voice, who lithe appearance and her mastery of the instruments she plays add an ethereal quality to the production. Other productions have included a variety or instruments... piano, ukulele, accordion... they made very good choices for this one. And, as with the storytelling of "Stop making Sense", the additional components add further layers of depth and texture that compel the narrative onwards.
The story continues and includes particular focus on the two greatest fighters of either side... Hector, brother of Paris and son of Priam, King of Troy... and Achilles, the most powerful fighter amongst the Greeks and the most powerful mortal at that time in all the world. There is much detail given about each, but hear are the Cliff Notes.
Achilles, outraged by a decision and an action of his leader Agamemnon, decides he will no longer fight and sits out (but does not leave) the battle. Patroclus, his best friend, and as the story and the Poet both point out, even closer than a friend, begs him to rejoin the battle as it is turning against the Greeks but Achilles pointedly refuses. And so Patroclus begs his friend if he could borrow Achilles' armour and helm and lead their men into battle, and Achilles agrees. Seeing who they believe is their unparalleled leader Achilles back on the battle field, the Greeks are spurred on and the tide of war turns again in their favour. But the Gods intervene and reveal Patroclus for who he is.
Hector, seeing this enjoins him in battle and slays him viciously and full of rage. The slaughter of his closest confidante in turn enrages Achilles, who rejoins the battle and slays Hector. But his rage knows no bounds, and so he commands that Hector's body be dragged behind horses around the walls of the city of Troy. In utter grief and devastation, King Priam himself approaches Achilles, putting his own life in danger, and begs to be given the body of his son that he might bury him and follow their burial rites. And at this moment, in connection acknowledging righteous rage, an grief, and suffering and loss.. Achilles agrees and allows Hector's body to be returned to the Trojans.
And there we have it. A story, or a song, about wars that start for often ridiculous reasons ... "An Illiad" lists reasons such as Gods, pride, honour, jealousy, Helen looked more beautiful that some one else... with soldiers and leaders clinging to thoughts of entitlement to righteous rage, and depravity, and horror and loss and grief... concludes (or for the sake of this play) with a moment of understanding and shared humanity.
The Performance
And this is the bit where I'm going to sound like some home-spun rube, easily swayed by the first few bits of theatre he sees.
But for mine, this was a phenomenal performance in a singular production. It was an outstanding performance by David Wenham in a long awaited return to the stage. While he has graced major stages around Australia many times, the last time was 27 years ago. I can't begin to imagine what draws someone to such an ambitious, exhausting, brutal role so deep into a successful career, but the audience is incredibly fortunate that he did.
Wenham's performance is metered so perfectly, from the reticent and jaded story teller who has long ago tired of trying to tell his story for which he only sees the faintest glimmer of it having any impact, to growing into the task, growing his enthusiasms and passions and sorrows and rage. And it's not just a matter of following a dramatic timeline of increased emotional energy. It is a hugely physically demanding job, filled with, as it develops, running and athleticism and the emotional arc matches it with honed precision. When he explodes in rage in re-enacting the slaughtering of first Patroclus and then hector, I found it literally breath-taking in a way I've not experienced through theatre before... so much so that my son Bobby and I looked at each other, eyes wide open, jaws dropped in a true WTF moment feeling we were present for something very harrowing and intimate.
So, at the risk of cliches, this is a consummate performer by an actor at the peak of his prowess. While hesitate to say I can't imagine another actor doing this so well... I'm thinking it. From the moments when he was training to be an actor, when he was told to "show me anger", or "Be a tree".. or even "think like a tree" for that matter... and through all of his many other varied acting assignments... this was an opportunity to bring his full palette to the canvas. Every subtlety and nuance, every grand gesture, every moment of connection to an audience, every surrendering to vulnerability and every contempt and outrage.
His moments early on, connecting with audience members with comments and questions and connections remind us of some of the everyman characteristics he has often readily demonstrated, but they are deployed here as a stepping stone towards the point to which he is taking the Poet. And despite his weariness, and sense of pointlessness and repetition, the Poet arrives once again at a moment of complete emotional release.
There is a moment very near the end when the poet opines that after a ten year war of so loss, so many pointless deaths, and so little gain he had hoped that might be the last we see of war, but then came the Messenian Wars, the Peloponnesian Wars, and then... and then the Poet, or Wenham, spends I would estimate five minutes listing every major war and battle... EVERY bloody one of them... in all of the years that followed... ending with, after a short pause... Iran. And all the while he's listing these I was wondering how the hell does he remember all of these let alone list them so clearly and without lethargy. And THEN it hits... hell, how has he remembered all of the last 100 minutes of uninterrupted performance. With respect to the inclusion of the musician, it is a performance for the ages. And others have performed it, and I haven't seen them and can't judge them, but this is something that made me reconsider just what theatre can do, and what can be one on a stage.
The show finishes with a conclusion about the pointlessness of war and the phallacy of our entitlement towards rage. But it's not didactic. It remains the story of a poet speaking to those who have ears, aware that it will almost certainly make no change, but still committed to the telling.
By the end Wenham is a sweating, exhausted heap. That he is willing to put himself through this night after night, and for all of the time it took to master the role, is not something that could ever be satisfactorily financially compensated. This is a pure commitment to theatre, to story telling, to testing oneself when there is no need and for providing an experience... or emotion, or learning, or entertainment or whatever... to an engaged audience.
I could not have enjoyed it more, and in the context of so many things I don't feel it all wrong in including "An Illiad" (and especially this performance of it) among the great plays.
Could it be done in Goulburn. Geez, I'd like to see someone try! I honestly would.
