Where many people’s introduction to The Iliad is less than joyful, as they are forced to read and analyse it by their well-meaning but ultimately torturous high school curriculum, it was originally composed for live performance. Directors (and performers) Max Beal and Samuel Leaper, alongside writers Lisa Peterson and Denis O’Hare, breathe life back into this ancient Greek tale of the Trojan War through An Iliad which is as hilarious as it is deeply tragic, proving as they do so the incredible power of live theatre.

The contrast between written and oral tradition is highlighted on stage as the Poet, played by Max Beal, recites the story of the Trojan War with incredible life and energy, next to the silent Muses (played by Samuel Leaper) who spend the opening portion scribbling indifferently in a notebook.I was nervous about the ability of a single performer to hold the audience’s attention for the full ninety minutes, especially as he recounted a story most people would already be familiar with. Never could I have been so wrong.  The updated script, which brings back the humour and excitement of The Iliad as well as Beal’s truly incredible performance, and a seamless but beautiful integration of light and sound allow the audience to become as immersed in the story as its original listeners.

The sound design is performed on stage by Samuel Leaper using a keyboard, and he does an excellent job. The use of music heightens emotional (and comedic) moments, and reintroduces the musicality of the original work, which likely would have been performed as a song. There were times where I could feel the sound in my bones. It blended well with Jordan Wichman’s lighting design, and both effectively heighten the drama without overshadowing Beal’s performance. Equally, the use of silence and darkness are profoundly impactful, and rip the audience out of the drama, to present them with raw human tragedy. 

The stage design is fairly simple and is performed within a curtained black-box theatre. There is a single white curtain, but this doesn’t come across as intentional or communicate anything to the audience. The simplicity of the staging prevents Beal’s performance from becoming lost as it may have done in a more elaborate set. The only real set piece (aside from a chair) was a keyboard littered with papers which the Muses performed at. These papers further signified the visual contrast between written and oral tradition, and emphasise later, the pervasiveness with which human history is plagued by war. 

An Iliad does not shy away from presenting the Trojan War as violent and gruesome. It confronts the audience with its inhumanity frequently, at times using comedy to draw us into the rage of the characters, only to disturb us with its bloodshed. The difference between The Iliad and An Iliad, in title alone, is that it transforms the story from a tale of one man’s rage, into a graphic portrait of war in general. There is no one Iliad. There is no one war. War is all human history. And it’s bloody, tragic, and never-ending. The play reminds us of this frequently. Much of the action, due to the sparse set design, and mode of storytelling, takes place imaginatively, allowing the audience to fill in the gaps with their own experience. It is impossible for a contemporary audience not to think of Gaza and Ukraine, and even if it was, the play doesn’t let us. The portrait of the Gods as unfeeling, all-powerful beings observing with enjoyment from a great distance, only further this social commentary by bringing into question the role of governments and corporations in benefiting from human tragedy. 

Max Beal’s performance as the Poet was nothing shy of outstanding. From the moment he emerges through the audience, to the moment he exits, he takes command of the stage confidently and expertly. He switches between characters with ease and manages to distinguish between them without falling into caricature. He is at times funny, charming, moving, terrifying, and an all-round portrait of humanity at its most rough and raw. His performance does not allow the audience to take sides, all the characters are presented truthfully, and we feel their deaths deeply. It would be easy to get swept away by the drama and excitement of the story, but his performance (and the wonderful writing) remind us that soldiers are people, and war is loss. We would not be able to feel this tragedy if we did not believe in these people, and Max Beal makes us believe in these people. He manages to hold onto his energy for the full ninety minutes. He makes us laugh, he makes us think, and I will even admit to shedding a tear or two.

I cannot recommend An Iliad enough. This is how the story of The Iliad deserves to be told.

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