A Tale for the Ages

One sign of a classic is its ability to speak to us anew each time it is told. One example is Henry V. As portrayed by Laurence Olivier in 1944, it was a strident, patriotic call to war for a country embroiled in one. Forty-five years later, Kenneth Branagh played the same role, and it should be remembered, essentially written by the same author. But this time, it is an anti-war story, full of dirt, blood and sorrow.

Homer's epic poem, The Iliad, is of the same cloth. Likely composed in the 8th century B.C., it tells the tale of the war between a collection of Greek city-states and Troy, or Ilium as it was then known. But depending on the teller, the same exact story can be completely and utterly different. Most know it as a love story, focusing on the handsome Paris, prince of Troy, and Helen of Sparta, whose beauty launched a thousand ships. But, the story can also be about fraternal love, that between the elder Prince Hector and his younger brother Paris, and between famed warrior Achilles and his squire (some say lover), Patroclus. Or it can be about friendship, as that between Achilles and the wilier Odysseus. Or ... well, you get the idea.

Regardless of where the accent mark is placed, always central to The Iliad is war. In Troy, as directed by Wolfgang Petersen (Das Boot, Enemy Mine), that war is shown in all its brutality and gore, far surpassing Branagh, as wonderful as his project was, in the strength of its message.

Orlando Bloom plays Paris and Diane Kruger is Helen. Having met while on a peace mission between Troy and Sparta, the two fall in love. Before you can say baklava, Paris has spirited Helen away from her husband, King Menelaus (Brendan Gleeson). Hector (Eric Bana) is furious at his naïve, romantic brother, but rather than turn the ship around, he continues to sail for home and their father, King Priam (Peter O'Toole).

When Menelaus discovers her absence, and destination, he calls upon his brother, King Agamemnon (Brian Cox) for revenge. As the fates would have it, Agamemnon, who has united most of war-torn Greece under his command, has been eyeing the legendary city of Troy for some time. The abduction and his brother's wounded honor provide the perfect excuse for an all-out invasion—especially as he has a secret weapon on his side, the near-invincible Achilles (Brad Pitt).

Obeying Aristotle's Poetics, in which you should only start tales at their beginnings and then fill in the background later, Homer began The Iliad near the end of the 10-year siege on Troy laid by the Greeks. Since modern audiences lack a knowledge of the classics, Petersen isn't afforded the same luxury and has to start his version somewhere before the beginning, and the movie takes a bit of time to get moving. We first have to get a quick history and geography lesson, then be introduced to all the major characters, and then be shown their relationships to one another, such as the hatred between Achilles and Agamemnon, both of whom are poster boys for that famous Greek sin, hubris.

But once those thousand ships have set sail, things pick up considerably. The fleet's landing on the shores of Ilium, with Achilles and his ferocious Myrmidons in the lead, is an ancient version of the D-Day scene from Saving Private Ryan, filled with gore, blood and pain. The following battles are similar, swirls of violent confusion with eddies of champions locked in battle. For those of you who always thought reading Homer would be a dry, boring affair, Petersen manages a fairly accurate visualization and even pulls his cinematic punches.

Even more successful is his ability to paint fully fleshed-out characters with a few brush strokes. No one is completely good or evil. Paris is brave in love but a coward in battle. Hector is noble but more devoted to his country than his wife and newborn son. Achilles is brave but vain and vengeful.

The actors generally rise to the challenge of filling legendary footprints. As the central characters, Brana and Pitt stand out, delivering restrained, powerful performances. Bloom is well cast as the perfumed prince, but doesn't dig deep enough for his most emotional scenes. And Cox chews up enough scenery for a dozen Agamemnons. Of special note is the 72-year-old O'Toole, last of the famed triumvirate of him, Richard Burton and Richard Harris. First appearing weak and doddering in the role of king of the walled city, he utterly redeems himself when begging Achilles to return Hector's corpse for proper burial.

Coming on the heels of not just the recent brutal beheading of an American contractor in Iraq, but also disclosures of American troops torturing Iraqi prisoners and Iraqis burning and desecrating fallen American soldiers, that scene and the previous ones of Achilles dragging Hector's body behind his chariot speak more to the horrors which ensue when Ares' hounds of war are unleashed.

Those images and emotions, combined with the closing shot of Troy in flames, its population slaughtered and raped, its temples despoiled and looted, deliver a more powerful message than any anti-war movie in recent memory. War may be necessary at times—in the film's beginning, Agamemnon would rather city-states peacefully join his alliance than spill needless blood—but the true danger lies in losing our humanity along with our lives. As Priam tells Achilles, even as enemies, we can still honor each other.