By Rebecca Waese
The ancient tale of Troy exploded upon the Malthouse stage this week in a ground-breaking re-telling that fuses the past and the present and questions the myths we tell ourselves about war. Playwright Tom Wright (Medea, The Odyssey, and The War of the Roses), well-versed in adapting dramas of war for the stage, harnesses Homer’s sprawling epic poems of The Iliad and The Odyssey by focusing on Cassandra, a prophetess, who is believed by no-one. Resembling Pat Barker’s Silence of the Girls, which gives the narrative perspective to Briseis, the war prize of Achilles, Wright’s adaptation puts Cassandra (Elizabeth Blackmore) centre stage as the truthful commentator who is eternally misunderstood. Cassandra begs her Trojan family ‘not to see what [they] want to see’ and questions the futility of war and its great cost.
Cassandra, as a portentous guide, leads a powerhouse cast directed skilfully by Wilman Noongar man Ian Michael (Constellations, Stolen and Picnic at Hanging Rock). Particularly commanding in Troy are the women. Hecuba (Paula Arundel) is arresting with her deeply resonant voice, lamenting the years of war and the loss of life and culture. She balances the pressures of protecting her children as Queen of Troy with moments of humour, asking her daughter Cassandra, who has been offered to the almighty Apollo and blasted with the tragic gift of foresight, “How did you go?” as if Cassandra had just returned from a blind date. Iphigenia, played with searing intensity by Ciline Ajobong, finds her life’s purpose by choosing to be a sacrifice, declaring, “I know what needs to be done,” and repeats with growing certainty and passion, “I am a bomb.” Iphigenia’s clarion call is one of the strongest moments in the play. While Troy critiques war and its futility, Wright re-invents the conventional sacrifice of Iphigenia by her father Agamemnon and instead portrays Iphigenia as a radical fundamentalist ready to die for her cause. Her passion resonates with the audience in an uncomfortable moment of understanding the zealot. Ajobong’s portrayal is chilling because we can understand her motivation in choosing one true action that defines her life. It is confronting to find oneself empathising with a fundamentalist perspective, and yet, Iphigenia, with Michael’s direction and Wright’s script, moves us to do just that. Clytemnestra (Geraldine Hakewill) simmers with vengeance against her husband who has not prevented the death of Iphigenia and, in a hottub scene, wreaks retribution upon her husband, Agamemnon (Danny Ball), and the last remaining Trojan, Cassandra. Achilles (Danny Ball) and Patroclus (Lyndon Watts) create a tender love scene, embracing by the fire pit, showing the intimate side of the glorious warrior protecting the man he loves.
Time conflates and overlaps in this re-telling. Mostly, the play is set in the Mycenaean era, where Trojans lament how their children have never lived in the time of peace. Wright dispenses with linearity and the action shifts from past to present swiftly; the desire to make relevant connections between senseless iterations upon iterations of war is clear, but the method is less so. There is a scene depicting a contemporary archaeological dig where workers sift through the ruins to uncover the mythic stories. There is another scene where Greek tour guides invite the audience to imagine their way back through centuries and consider the ethics and human cost of land and culture wars. Allusions to the current war in the Middle East and the dispossession of Aboriginal people are resonant here. All these scenes are impactful yet somewhat disconnected from one another. More cues are needed to help the audience find coherence in the time traversing. A clearer introduction to the characters’ names and their relationships in the play would help less-knowledgeable audience members follow the drama better, which is complicated in a few instances by the multiple roles that the actors play.
Exquisite stagecraft elevates the production richly; the play begins with a long thin waterfall of sand spilling from the heavens onto the ancient amphitheatre, rendered in sand and undulating curves (designed by Dann Barber) as a site of battle, resistance and remembrance. Clever costuming (also by Dann Barber) features toga-inspired outfits that bear traces of contemporary clothing brands to indicate how the past is alive in the present and how we have not progressed beyond our primal history. Minimalist costume pieces in bronze are suggestive of royal stature and victor’s trophies – Hecuba’s bronze bustier, Iphigenia’s cinched waist belt, and Clytemnestra’s sunburst headdress – and they bring grace and grandeur to the stage. The gods move among the mortals, draped in diaphanous veils with talon-like golden nails, masks, and eerie wigs, indifferent to the suffering of humanity. Soundscapes (by Marco Cher) are layered and sorrowful, with mourning melodies extending to modern-day sounds of warfare with gunshots and explosions, conflating times and making correlations to wars and massacres in our time. The iconic Trojan horse is conjured in the dark shape of a massive balloon which inflates grotesquely to disgorge the Mycenaean invaders who penetrate the walls of Troy. The balloon splits open and out they crawl, like a distorted nightmare into the sacred space of the Trojan palace. Breathtaking!
Troy is a bold and ambitious production that offers inventive takes on the myths we tell each other and ourselves. Its urges the audience to feel our way through uncomfortable positions we take on history, and to truly see and listen to our opposition or else to be doomed to repeat the battle forever. While some connections could be clearer, this production of Troy is a visceral triumph of humour, despair, and passion as Homer’s tales unleash and rattle us to rise from our complacency.
Image: Pia Johnson
