Like the itinerant poet-storytellers of ancient Greece who told its epics before Homer wrote them down, Brendan Ragan appears solo in simple earth-colored travel garb, with umbrella and shoulder bag. A simple square table, some chairs, a few utensils with liquids from that bag are all he needs to use alongside words, gestures and occasional sound effects. Thus he captures his close-up modern audience as Greeks captured Trojans of old -- but without tricks.
The Poet begins by saying he’s cut down the time of telling his story, and each time he sings his song “I hope it’s the last time.” Essentially it’s of the Trojan Wars, how it absorbs its heroes, Achilles and Hector, with a commentary on the why and what of Helen’s capture and the Greeks’ actions to take her back. (But the subtext is all unjust wars, especially over property.)
When he gets to trying to remember details of the battles, especially the numbers of men involved, he gets personal about those he knew and from what places they came. They turn out to be from many nations and cities and towns through times up to the present. It’s the first of several instances when he’s able to give us cumulatively powerful parallels between the Trojan War participants and those in wars today.
Ragan is subtle introducing the showing of relationships between supposed actions by gods that influence human behavior and probable non-religious or psychological attitudes for action. Examples include blaming causes outside of ourselves for our selfish, drunken or drugged actions and also staying in war so as not to have “wasted” previous time in the war. The slangier the language, the more it seems to hit home today. Acting skills come to the fore in An Iliad as Ragan describes the looks and actions of not only the two heroes of his tale but also their leaders Agamemnon and Priam and family members. Paris appears particularly cowardly but funny, whereas Patroclus’ bravery makes him admirable, bigger than his physical size.
Describing Hector’s wife Andromache, Ragan wisely refrains from female imitation. In fact, all of his descriptions of people, clothing, arms, and natural phenomenon are skillful, never recited, detailed but not too long or for their own sake.
The more war seems to feel good to its participants, the more Ragan (as The Poet) makes us feel bad about it. We agree with the way he shows “rage changes people” and its waste of human beings and resources. When he gets to the incident of The Trojan Horse, he demurs: “I’m not singing that song.” We all know it and hate such treachery, he assumes. In the end: “a civilization destroyed.” Does An Iliad preach? Well, as much as it teaches. But thanks to the quality of the adaptation, the performer, and the director of both in performance, it’s a fine sermon and lesson, a memorable one.
