The Trojans

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In The Trojans, a vastly entertaining new musical by Leegrid Stevens, the timeless echoes of Homer’s Iliad find new life on the high school football field, where rival teams battle not only for victory but for the glory that comes with it. Stevens—who crafted the book, lyrics, and music—masterly taps into the martial themes of Homer’s epic, reframing the warriors of ancient Greece as modern-day athletes. But while the gladiatorial spectacle of sports might appear to celebrate triumph, Stevens reminds us of the heavy, tragic price that such glory demands.

The show cleverly doubles down on the sense of doom that hangs over these young athletes, positioning their battles within a local mythology reenacted by a group of warehouse workers. This meta-theatrical framing not only adds a layer of pathos, but it also evokes the ancient rituals of Greek theater, where performance and ritual often blended seamlessly. The football games become more than just contests of physical strength—they are a modern reflection of the heroic yet tragic battles immortalized in Homer’s epic. It’s an accomplished and thought-provoking fusion of humor, athleticism, and tragedy that resonates well beyond the locker room, inviting the audience to reconsider the true cost of glory.

Stevens weaves together the grandeur of classical Greece with the neon-lit, synth-heavy aesthetics of 1980s pop culture, channeled through the lens of post-millennial synthwave. The result is an immersive, smoky world that feels like a fever dream of both ancient heroism and modern nostalgia. The Trojans is a play that wears its 1980s influences on its sleeve, blending retro-futurism with timeless themes of glory and defeat. The show’s “play-within-a-play” structure—including an ingeniously staged car chase—channels this unique, atmospheric vibe.

The narrative unfolds as a group of warehouse workers—stuck in a monotonous Amazon-like grind—decides to stage a dramatic reenactment of their high school football team’s brush with state-level glory. The laborers, faced with the tedium of mindlessly scanning shipping labels and moving boxes, seize the chance to indulge in a bit of furtive creativity, transforming their dreary work environment into a site of thrilling mythmaking. Simon Cleveland’s set design brilliantly places the audience in the heart of this warehouse, where towering stacks of cardboard boxes, industrial signage, and PVC curtains make it feel as though we’re part of the action. Everyday objects—ladders, pallets, safety vests—are repurposed into props, further blurring the lines between labor and performance.

What makes The Trojans truly compelling is its suggestion that this reenactment is not a one-time event, but an ongoing creation. The workers seem to have staged this story before, with the mythology of their past constantly shifting and evolving as they argue over details, embellish the narrative, and relive the glory days. This not only highlights their yearning for something beyond the drudgery of their present lives but also speaks to the way in which myth evolves and gains power over time—how the past is always reimagined, reshaped, and made to fit the present’s needs. It’s a poignant exploration of the tension between the desire for glory and the grim realities of everyday life, delivered through a potent mix of humor, tragedy, and dreamlike spectacle.

The warehouse workers from Carlton—a town synonymous with the North Texas Trojans high school football team—revisit a fateful moment when “the whole state was watching.” At the heart of the story is Keeley (a fierce Erin Treadway), a powerhouse running back who quits the team before the big game, disillusioned after a troubling encounter with Johnny (Roger Casey), the privileged quarterback who doesn’t quite fit the town’s working-class mold. This pivotal moment propels the action, with Keeley stepping away from the game to spend time with his boyfriend Lucas (Daphne Always as the devoted voice of reason), while the rest of the Trojans squad scrambles to rally against their opponents, the Highland Kings.

As the stakes rise, the plot thickens with the introduction of Heather (an impassioned Deshja Driggs), Johnny’s girlfriend, who is beginning to grow weary of his singular focus on football. Much like the warehouse workers, Heather longs for something more than the narrow confines of her relationship. Her search for fulfillment leads her to Daris (a romantic Arya Grace Gaston), the artistic, poetic brother of Tark (Alcorn Minor), the Highland Kings’ star quarterback. Daris represents everything Johnny isn’t, and his quiet intellectualism pulls Heather in a new direction.

Meanwhile, Trojan receiver Doug (Sam Tilles) seizes the opportunity to rally his teammates, hoping to use Heather’s departure to fuel their fire for the upcoming game. But the question remains: Will this turbulent mix of emotions, personal drama, and rivalry result in a triumphant conclusion? Carlton’s resident goth girl Sondra (a penetrating Jen Rondeau), with her MASH fortune-telling game, might have the answer—like literature’s Cassandra, if only anyone would take her seriously.

The complexity of The Trojans lies in its deft balancing of personal conflict, athletic ambition, and the yearning for something greater than the confines of small-town life. Each character is searching for something—be it love, identity, or glory—and in their pursuit, they find themselves entangled in a web of hope, disappointment, and unexpected connections. The show explores not only the tension between myth and reality but also the cost of chasing dreams in a world that can often feel too small to contain them.

The Trojans effortlessly blends sharp, often hilarious high-school dialogue with an inventive and evocative score, creating a musical experience that feels both contemporary and nostalgic. The characters’ voices ring true to their age and environment, and their dialogue flows seamlessly into the show’s musical numbers. The soundtrack, crafted from cassette tape loops and vintage analog synths, infuses the production with an infectious energy, while also echoing the show’s 1980s-inspired aesthetics. There are exceptional songs throughout the score but “Boys are Bad,” a standout solo for Lucas (Daphne Always), not only delivers a memorable melody but also weaves in pointed commentary on masculinity—a theme that reverberates throughout the production.

Director Eric Paul Vitale guides the steady near-frenzy of the adults reliving their recent youth, not an easy feat with the endless shelves of boxes creating a visual suffocation. Ashley Soliman’s youthful costumes contribute to the constant reminder of just how recent their glory days played out. Christopher Annas-Lee’s lighting design plays a pivotal role in shaping the atmosphere, seamlessly transitioning from the neon glow of the past to the harsh, fluorescent reality of the present. Melinda Rebman’s choreography brings a poised energy to even the most intimate of moments, including a memorable—and highly inventive—musical rendition of a football game. Meanwhile, Bradley Cashman and John Morgan’s fight choreography adds a “punch” to the climactic moments, making the physicality of the narrative feel just as important as the emotional stakes.

The cast is exceptional, effortlessly toggling between their roles as warehouse workers and the high school characters they portray. Roger Casey is endearing as Johnny, a well-meaning quarterback who finds himself out of his depth in both football and life. E. James Ford brings a warmth and charm to the good-natured  jock, Jack, while Erin Treadway’s Keeley captures the character’s intensity—both in love and intense hatred. Jen Rondeau’s Sondra, the outsider, is a quietly yearning presence, while Driggs’ Heather, caught between longing and disillusionment, radiates complexity.

In a poignant late moment, Sondra, in explaining away the cause of the War of 1812, reflects that choice is merely an illusion shaped by hindsight. If that’s true, then the warehouse workers are powerless but to perform, to recreate this story. And we, the audience, are helpless but to applaud them. While the high school Trojans may not have won the state championship and the historical Trojans didn’t win their war, The Trojans triumphs in every sense. It’s a show that combines heart and a sense of mythic weight making for an unforgettable theatrical experience.

The Trojans  (extended through April 26, 2025)

Loading Dock Theatre and Nancy Manocherian’s the cell theatre

the cell theatre, 338 West 23rd Street, in Manhattan

For tickets, visit http://www.tickettailor.com

Running time: two hours and 15 minutes including one intermission