Ilium Ridge

One of the major figures in Ilium Ridge is Trojan Field Marshal Priam, leader of the Trojan garrison. He plays essentially the same role in both, but there are some important differences:

In the Iliad, Priam is an elderly monarch, deeply affected by the prolonged suffering of the Trojan War, burdened by the losses of his sons and the looming destruction of his city. His humility and emotional vulnerability make him one of the most humanized figures in the epic. His influence is diminishing, however: his pleas to his sons and warriors often go unheard, and he is forced to rely on the Gods for even the smallest victories.

In Ilium Ridge, Priam is a wartime general in his sixties. While capable in military strategy, he is tired of war, craving peace despite the battlefield experience that once made him effective. He takes a more active role as a commander, reflecting military competence rather than passive nobility. However, this comes with a growing realization that war exacts an unbearable cost, especially as he experiences the human toll. Despite the gift of Apollo, he is less dependent on divine intervention and more resigned to human agency and the unpredictability of war. This subtly shifts his relationship with fate, emphasizing human responsibility more than divine will.

In both versions, Priam embodies the themes of loss, leadership, and the quest for peace, though Ilium Ridge gives him a more active, modernized role as a military leader caught between war and peace. While Homer’s Priam is a tragic king dependent on the gods, our Priam is a pragmatic general haunted by his own decisions and driven by the necessity of peace, reflecting the moral complexities of 20th-century warfare.

When I started bringing life to the people of Ilium Ridge, Paris and Helen were among the easiest to characterize. I immediately saw them as a former-day version of Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson, whose love (or whatever it was) led to a constitutional crisis, not to mention mythic tales of forbidden lust.

Looking back at the Iliad only confirmed this impression. Paris is depicted as vain, cowardly, and driven by personal pleasure rather than honor. He avoids combat when possible and relies on others, especially Hector, to clean up his mess. And he initiates the Trojan War by abducting Helen, an act of selfish passion that leads to years of suffering on both sides. Similarly, Edward’s decision to abdicate, and his flirtation with Hitler, shows his opportunism and willingness to jeopardize his homeland for his own personal desires.

I admit that I have been less fair to the original Helen. While she did, of course, start the war by running away with Paris, Helen is conflicted—both regretful and resigned about her role in the war. She is aware of the suffering she has caused but also feels trapped in her circumstances. My Helen, like Wallis, is committed only to the pleasures of the moment: drinking, dancing and, most of all, the thrill of seeing men die for her. She gets her wish, at a cost.

In writing this, it made me think of other royal black sheep. It seems that in every generation since Edward, there has been a rebel in the ruling monarch’s family. From Margaret to Andrew to Harry, the royals have always needed an evil twin to keep things interesting and the family’s name in the papers. It looks like Louis is next in line for that role. How will he earn it?

The main female role in Ilium Ridge is that of Briseis. She plays basically the same role as she did in the Iliad, but with important differences.

In the original, Briseis was a Trojan princess, taken by Achilles and later seized by Agamemnon, which triggered a key conflict between the two heroes. Despite her royal status, her character represented the objectification of women in war, treated as property rather than as an individual with agency. When Agamemnon took her, it was more the wounding of Achilles’ pride that caused his decision to withdraw from battle, rather than his view of her as a person. Briseis has little control over her fate, and her voice is muted for most of the epic. When she speaks, it is mainly to express grief and longing for lost loved ones and protectors like Patroclus. Her character is defined by helplessness and sorrow, reflecting the subservient role of women in ancient Greek society.

In Ilium Ridge, Briseis is a nurse, giving her a more active, professional role. She shifts from being a passive prize to someone engaged directly in caring for soldiers during a modern conflict. She is no longer just a symbol of honor or status, but a character with agency and her own emotions, navigating her relationships amid the trauma of war. She is tender but defiant, someone who cares deeply for others but does not shy away from standing up for herself, showing a modern sense of autonomy. Her relationship with Achilles is emotionally charged but more balanced, focusing on mutual connection rather than possession or status, which aligns with modern themes of interpersonal conflict and love in war.

In short, in Ilium Ridge, Briseis is transformed from a passive prize into a complex, dynamic character, reflecting modern values of agency, care, and personal strength. While the original symbolizes loss and helplessness, the reimagined Briseis in Ilium Ridge shifts the focus to resilience, emotional complexity, and healing in the face of war. This adaptation enriches her role, aligning it with contemporary storytelling while still echoing the emotional themes of Homer’s original epic.

In both the original Iliad and our screenplay Ilium Ridge, Achilles and Hector are central figures, but their characteristics and motivations are tailored to fit the modern age.

In the Iliad, Achilles is portrayed as a near-invincible warrior, half-human and half-divine, driven by personal honor and a sense of glory. Achilles is quick to anger and deeply prideful, especially when he feels disrespected, as shown by his conflict with Agamemnon over the slave Briseis.His motivations are initially personal—he refuses to fight after being dishonored but returns to battle when his close friend Patroclus is killed by Hector. His rage and thirst for revenge becomes the driving force behind his actions. He represents the heroic code in Greek culture, where personal honor, glory, and fame are pursued even at the cost of life.

In Ilium Ridge, he is a skilled, intense soldier with a reputation for both bravery and recklessness. His motivations are still driven by honor and pride, but also by love of Briseis, who is portrayed as more of a modern woman who can have some impact in a male-dominated world. The script also adds a layer of conflict related to the realities of modern warfare and the emotional toll it takes. He can be seen as a symbol of youthful defiance against a world ravaged by global conflict. The tension between heroism and the horrors of war reflects modern perspectives on war’s futility and trauma.

Hector in the Iliad is portrayed as a noble warrior and prince of Troy. Unlike Achilles, Hector is not driven by a thirst for glory but by a sense of duty to his family and his people. He is aware of the cost of war but continues to fight because it is expected of him as Troy’s greatest defender. His interactions with his wife Andromache underscore the personal cost of war on families and loved ones.

Our Hector remains a heroic figure, but he is portrayed more as a man of action, more comfortable in conflict than in peace. He is not a family man; he only loves fighting and, like the Gods, hates modern innovations which remove the personal aspects of warfare.

Both characters maintain their essential traits—Achilles as the defiant, passionate warrior and Hector as the honorable defender—but are reframed within the context of World War I, set against the backdrop of modern, mechanized warfare, where individual heroism conflicts with the harsh realities of war’s destructiveness.

A major theme in Ilium Ridge is the comparison of the brothers Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades in The Iliad  to the roles of the cousins King George V (Britain), Kaiser Wilhelm II (Germany), and Tsar Nicholas II (Russia) in World War I. Here’s a closer look at the parallels.

In The Iliad, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades represent different realms of power. Zeus rules over the sky and is seen as the king of the gods, wielding the greatest authority. Poseidon controls the sea, while Hades rules the underworld. Each brother has a distinct domain but they sometimes conflict, especially when their interests overlap or clash. In World War I, cousins George, Wilhelm, and Nicholas also held significant influence, though divided by national borders rather than realms of nature. King George V had authority over the British Empire, a powerful naval force with global influence. Kaiser Wilhelm II controlled Germany, which was a dominant land power in Europe. Tsar Nicholas II ruled Russia, whose vast territories and military strength were significant, though internally challenged. Like the Greek gods, they were connected by shared heritage but often had conflicting agendas.

In The Iliad, Zeus tries to maintain a certain level of neutrality but ultimately sways the course of events by favoring or opposing different sides at different times. Poseidon, on the other hand, is more actively involved, often siding with the Achaeans due to a personal grudge against the Trojans. Hades plays a lesser roles, but is always there to encourage the conflict and collect the souls of the dead. In World War I, King George V was more restrained, aiming to protect British interests while avoiding direct personal involvement in military decisions. Kaiser Wilhelm II, like Poseidon, was more eager to assert his influence and played a significant role in the escalation to war, driven by his ambitions for German dominance. Tsar Nicholas II, comparable to Hades, presided over a nation where the war’s toll on life was devastating, and his involvement was overshadowed by internal strife and revolution, leading to his downfall.

In The Iliad, despite being brothers, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades often disagree. Zeus and Poseidon, in particular, argue about how much to intervene in the mortal world. in Ilium Ridge, the whole interaction between the brothers becomes the equivalent of a videogame, reflecting their ultimate disdain for the mortal world and the puny creatures therein. Similarly, George, Wilhelm, and Nicholas, though cousins, found themselves on opposing sides of a war that pitted their nations against each other. Family bonds did not prevent the escalation of conflict; in fact, some of their personal relationships may have exacerbated tensions. For instance, Wilhelm’s feelings of inferiority and rivalry toward his British and Russian relatives contributed to a sense of competition.

In Greek mythology, the gods’ actions had lasting repercussions for mortals, but the gods themselves were largely unchanged. In the case of World War I, while the royal houses of Britain, Germany, and Russia faced significant changes. The war particularly devastated the Russian Empire, leading to the abdication and execution of Tsar Nicholas II, while Wilhelm and the German monarchy were driven into semi-exile. Only the English royals maintained their status, but their authority was even more weakened, until they were reduced to the sideshow we see today.

In sum, the roles of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades in The Iliad and the roles of George, Wilhelm, and Nicholas in World War I can be seen as parallel in terms of their divided authority, familial tensions, and influence on the conflict’s course and outcome. Both sets of figures highlight how family ties did not prevent rivalry, and how their individual ambitions shaped the destinies of those under their rule.

I don’t know where the original idea for Ilium Ridge came from, but the parallels are too good to miss. Both feature an interminable war fought over a relatively tiny area, by soldiers who had more in common than what separated them. Both were presided over by divine, incestuously close figures. And both are tales of doomed heroes fighting both the enemy and their own incompetent commanders. The actual writing required research on several fronts (pun intended).

On the Greek side, I had to look at the original sources. The main one of course, was Homer’s Iliad. Alas, my childhood education was just a little late for me to learn ancient Greek, but I did study this in college in the excellent E. V. Rieu prose translation (I have never been a fan of poetry (which may seem incongruous in light of my other major project but whatever)). The story of Ilium Ridge is mostly a straight retelling of that tale, which ends with Achilles returning Hector’s body to Troy. There are various later myths about Achilles’ ultimate fate, so I have invented my own which is in keeping with the story. Naturally, I had to bring in the Horse at the end, based partly on the battle at Messines, where the sappers tunneled under the German lines to devastating effect.

On the “modern” side, the events of 100 years ago seem in many ways as remote as those of 1200BC. The scientific innovations of the previous century led to an almost unimaginable catastrophe, overthrowing ancient institutions and ushering in an age of constant innovation which we are still struggling to deal with. (Even the Gods, in this story, recognise this, and their satirical solution (to their delight) brings about an even more savage battle than any before in their Great War.) The highest positions of power were reserved for the “well-born”, no matter how venal or incompetent. The true heroes, if from the lower classes, could never escape the trenches. The role of women, too, was surprisingly similar; I will deal with this in a future entry.

The Trojan War has featured in several adaptions. The one that always springs to mind is Petersen’s 2004 Troy, which takes the mythological story pretty straight, though omitting the Gods (which I find regrettable; they are after all an integral part of the story). In that film Achilles is very well portrayed by Brad Pitt. If he were still the same age I would suggest him for our version, though the role is somewhat different. The 2018 TV adaptation Troy: Fall of a City tells the same story, not as well, but does feature the Gods as active participants. I have always enjoyed the films of Terry Gilliam, and his blend of myth with reality in such works as Baron Munchausen can be seen in, for example, our Olympia Hotel and Spa.

There have also, of course, been many WWI films: All Quiet on the Western Front (1920/2022), Paths of Glory, Gallipoli, 1917; generally focusing on the chaos of battle and the futility of war in general. Possibly the best was Oh! What a Lovely War (1969), which contrasted the optimistic, militaristic music of the time with the deadly reality.

I suppose the most depressing aspect of researching a story like this is how similar things are now to what they were like 100, or 3000, years ago. Nations still exist, ruled by (mostly) men for whom war is still an acceptable way of solving disputes or simply achieving personal glory, at the expense of the innocent millions who just want to live in peace. Ilium Ridge in that sense is descriptive, not prescriptive. No one’s going to learn anything from it that they don’t already know full well. We can only hope that the current rulers come to that realization for themselves before they destroy us all.

As I have mentioned before, one of the key elements of my screenplay Ilium Ridge is the similarity between the Trojan War and the First World War. There was good reason for this. The former had long permeated the thinking of European military academies, where classical education included ancient Greek and Roman history, and texts like Homer’s Iliad were studied for lessons on strategy, leadership, and the psychology of warfare.

Like the Trojan War, World War I was initially portrayed as a noble cause, even though the cause for both was relatively trivial. Many soldiers enlisted under the belief that it would be a heroic and short-lived conflict. Nationalist fervor, where young men were encouraged to seek honor and glory on the battlefield, resonated with the heroic ideals found in the Iliad, while national leaders saw themselves as heirs to the ancient Greeks or Romans. Some leaders, like Kitchener, Ludendorff and Foch, saw themselves, and were portrayed as, mythic heroes leading armies in epic struggles. Even though both sides claimed to have the Christian God on their side, classical symbols were used to frame the war as a conflict that had deep roots in Western civilization’s history.

The siege of Troy lasted ten years, and World War I saw similar long, grueling campaigns, such as the Siege of Verdun. Both the Western Front’s trench warfare and the Gallipoli campaign (very close to the original site of Troy) reinforced the notion of a protracted, bloody struggle over a single, significant location.

World War I propaganda leaned on classical imagery to evoke a sense of historical destiny and continuity. The song The British Grenadier (see the video on this page) had for centuries compared British soldiers to the heroes of old, and was heavily used to inspire patriotic fervour during the war, .

During and after the war, on the other hand, many literary figures drew different comparisons. Poets like Wilfred Owen and Patrick Shaw-Stewart used classical references to critique the war’s brutality and question its supposed glory. The association of senseless destruction with the war helped to draw these parallels.

A final (and rather eerie) comparison between the two wars is the role of the Gods, comparing the roles of brothers Zeus, Poseidon and Hades to cousins George, Wilhelm and Nicholas. But that is for another post.

The backdrop of the story is an eternal war, 3000 years of bloody conflict from Troy to the “Great” War and into the present. In a crucial scene following the ultimate battle, Achaean hero Achilles has killed Hector, son of Trojan leader Priam, in revenge for the death of his beloved Patroclus. In his rage, Achilles is dragging the corpse of Hector back and forth over the battlefield, forcing the broken and grieving Priam to confront him and demand a proper burial. I have shortened the scene to its essence, but it’s as relevant now as it was all those centuries ago.

Ilium Ridge is, at the heart of it, a comparison between the Trojan War and World War I. There are many parallels: the multi-year stalemate; the heartless, incestuous puppet-masters pulling the strings behind the scenes; the heroic troops led by upper-class, incompetent leaders… And key to the story is the character of Achilles. He is at the same time an (almost) invincible warrior and an opponent of war. He is generally mild-mannered, but prone to implacable fury when provoked, calming down just as quickly when reason shows that he is wrong. I have made him a captain, the highest rank that someone of his low beginning could expect, a feared warrior but an innocent lover, leading to his ultimate… but you’ll have to read the story to find out. Contact us at ir@cramberry.com