Zane Williams
Jim DeVita in "An Iliad."
There is a moment just before American Players Theater’s An Iliad begins when the Poet enters from the back of the Touchstone Theater, shuffles down the steps and pauses. Dressed as a typical classics professor about to enter his college classroom, he hesitates at the edge of the stage before deciding whether to tell this epic story once again. In that pause is the weariness of a man who has lived thousands of years and witnessed acts of great heroism and unspeakable tragedy in war after war. Now, asked to repeat the tale for a new audience, he is both resigned and skeptical that this recitation will have any impact on the cycle of violence that has plagued civilization for centuries. And yet, he continues.
Once the Poet (core company member James DeVita) takes the stage, he places a worn copy of Homer’s Iliad on a lectern and recites the opening lines in Greek, pausing when he needs encouragement or inspiration from the muses. He calls to them several times to aid in his storytelling. A defiant young woman (Alicia Storin) enters, carrying a cello. She calmly takes it out of its case and begins to play. Sometimes her accompaniment underscores the action, sometimes it is the voice of the gods, chastising the Poet to stick to the script instead of editorializing. Composed by Josh Schmidt, it is the perfect, eerie and powerful counterpoint for this piece.
What starts out as a typical lecture, complete with questions thrown out to the “students” in the audience, turns into the engaging translation of the classic story of the Trojan Wars. Part Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, part Indiana Jones describing his adventures in unearthing ancient treasure, the play quickly outpaces the best professor’s course and turns into a gripping re-creation of life and death on the largest scale. Modern references make the play even more poignant, removing the Iliad from ancient history in our minds. Comparisons to sending U.S. troops to conflicts all over the globe make it frighteningly relevant. Far from being a one-man show, the stage is filled with hundreds of indelible characters, all embodied by DeVita. The Poet uses the epic poem as a passionate treatise on our propensity for conquest, killing and plunder, and its horrific cost.
This is DeVita at his most visceral, his most physical. As he becomes consumed by his story he sheds pieces of clothing — his tweed jacket, his tie, his white oxford shirt. Sweat gathers on his forehead, and the muscles in his arms strain in battle against dozens of adversaries. His movements are so precise, so deliberate and so powerful that each sword fight is visualized completely. Each foe he fights is unique. Each wound he suffers is palpable and tragic. Each victory is bittersweet.
There is magic in DeVita’s transformative storytelling, but there is also magic in the production elements that support his narrative: sound, projected photos and surprises that materialize from behind enormous blackboards. The design team discovered inventive ways to use the items that populate a classroom, from the skeleton in the corner to the globe, to the overhead projector, to a flask of sand. All of this elevates the story to an unforgettable journey
Kudos to director John Langs and the entire team who brought this production to life. The script, the performances and the production elements work together to create one of the most riveting, heart-wrenching, spectacular productions I have ever seen.
