'An Iliad' tells the tale of the futility of war

The ancient Greek poet Homer’s “Iliad” is a 24-book epic of the Trojan War, originally told orally, the poet wandering village to village. At almost 28,000 lines, it was not recited, but must have been performed, the original rap.

Fast forward almost 3,000 years to the present moment, to Glenn Hergenhahn-Zhao’s performance of “An Iliad” at the iDiOM Theater in June. This Poet walks onto a near empty stage, chairs and tables scattered about, some overturned, a dresser, large drop cloths hanging from the top of walls and on some of the furniture.

The Poet is as disheveled as the room, his fedora and suitcoat rumpled, his suitcase battered. He slips his shoes off.

His first recital is in Greek. Switching to English, he says, “Every time I sing this song, I hope it’s the last time.” He has been telling the story of the Trojan War since he witnessed it.

Yet this is masterly titled “An Iliad:” Not the story, but a story of war and destruction. “Who were the soldiers,” he asks. “If I could remember all the names,” he muses. “The point is, on the beach were boys from every town” – and the beach isn’t the shores below Troy as he lists “Ohio, North Dakota, Springfield, Illinois; Skagit, Seattle” and many more hometowns. And while he recalls thousands of boys emptying on the beach, and so many ships and names the nine years of battle between the Greeks and Trojans at Troy, he cites all the wars over all time.

The litany of wars starts with the Greeks and Trojans and continues through nine crusades, Thirty Year Wars up through Iraq, Afghanistan and Gaza. He repeats what the young Lieutenant John Kerry asked the U.S. Senators “How do I ask a man to be the last man to die for a mistake?” In ancient Greece it was the capriciousness of the gods – they were to blame.

“But this, this is the war I want to tell you about,” and as the Poet looks skyward his face is bathed in red light. That first war is the basis of this story. Hergenhahn-Zhao plays a host of characters: the opposing warriors Achilles and Hector, Helen of Troy, generals, colleagues and kings. And of course gods, from Apollo to Zeus. The Poet is bathed in blue light as he evokes the Muses and jumps gracefully from a dresser to the floor.

The Poet will sing chapter and verse of every war ever, the cruelty, violence and senselessness perpetuated century after century.

There is a wonderful scene of Hector visiting his wife and infant son, Hergenhahn-Zhao mimicking cradling the baby, speaking tenderly to him and then flinging him high in the air and after long seconds catching him.

Perform this show? ­Hergenhahn-Zhao embodied it. He drummed on his body, he drummed on the floor. He jumped on tables, chairs and a dresser. He danced. His hand and arm gestures, his facial expressions, the totality of it is more than a one-man band. As weary as he is, his physicality is in turns powerful and subtle as he recounts his tale. There is humor, sometimes with a wink to present-day references.

He digs into his suitcase for spirits found in a bottle of rum, tequila, vodka. He refills his glass often. There are reams of crumpled papers, and photos, notes and tales of destruction and folly through millennia. He recites another long list of battles. Sticking with the source material, he recites the death of Hector at the hand of Achilles, specific details, including repeatedly dragging the dead body behind a chariot around the walled city of Troy.

The futility of war, the senseless death, the smallness of gods, generals and kings. Cassandra is not listened to and the Trojan Horse brought inside the walls of Troy. At night the Greek soldiers pour out and ransack the city. “You can imagine the song, the death of a city. It always looks pretty much the same.”

The Poet wails his last list of cities destroyed, from Babylon and Alexandria through Dresden and Tokyo. And now, Rafah in Gaza.

His shoes back on, he picks up his coat and suitcase, puts his hat on, turns, walks out. The lights black out.

It is a powerful performance.

Written by Lisa Peterson and Denis O’Hare, “An Iliad” was first performed in New York in 2013. Hergenhahn-Zhao, the artistic director of iDiOM Theater, has reprised it for at least the fourth time in Bellingham.