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The story of Troy has been told for three millennia. Capricious deities, military clashes, legendary heroes and a famous wooden horse - a gift to the city that ultimately brings about its ruination - the mythology offers timeless themes of hubris, betrayal, and the devastating cost of war.

Tom Wright structures his new play as a series of vignettes featuring the mythology's most compelling characters: Cassandra (Elizabeth Blackmore), Iphigenia (Ciline Ajobong), Hecuba (Paula Arundell), Clytemnestra (Geraldine Hakewill), Agamemnon (Mark Leonard Winter), Achilles (Danny Ball) and his lover Patroclus (Lyndon Watts).

Between these scenes, Wright transforms Troy into a contemporary archaeological site, where figures dig for the truth behind the city's destruction.

The play poses a fundamental question: who can truly own land?

Read more: The legend of Troy explained

Wright examines how humans inscribe their identity and history onto territory, folding terrain into the foundation of their collective identity.

Themes of ownership, entitlement, colonisation and inheritance thrum across this adaptation. But Wright places these ideas within history's grand arc: empires crumble, new peoples claim the ruins, and each generation weaves the landscape into their own story of belonging.

For Melbourne audiences who have just witnessed neo-Nazis leading anti-immigration rallies and attacking an Indigenous protest site - and news the Victorian government will embed Aboriginal truth-telling in school curricula - Wright's interrogation of land, identity and belonging feels urgently relevant.

Director Ian Michael evokes epic imagery to rival the mythic proportions of the story itself - and the immortal (or otherwise immortalised) figures who populate it.

Michael embraces high theatricality throughout. Subtlety is not on the agenda.

The stage design by Dann Barber centres monumental, sand-covered stone steps and platforms that cascade across multiple levels. Sections of the ancient-looking construction have an organic, curved quality to suggest that, over time, they have been reshaped into hillside contours. The steeped platforms support the staging of dynamic movement and sculpted images with the actors.

The design is grand in scale and makes full use of the Merlyn Theatre's vast stage area, yet also feels boldly minimalist.

Paul Jackson's lighting design creates a black void above the stage area, keeping focus on the action below. Throughout the production, Jackson conjures breathtaking visual moments - a narrow spotlight of falling sand marks the passage of time, vibrant washes transform the ancient steps, and sharp focus is given to isolating moments of character revelation.

His coordination of light with Barber's set and costume designs demonstrates a true mastery of the craft.

Costumes (also by Barber) pair flowing white and black fabrics with gold accents. Draped, toga-like tunics are enhanced by metallic body plates and large jewellery.

Sound design by Marco Cher, incorporating compositions by Rosalind Hall, amplifies the epic scale of these narratives. Moments of haunting choral singing alternate with thunderous tracks that flood the theatre.

Wright structures his play as discrete vignettes rather than a continuous narrative. Those seeking a traditional, linear retelling of the Troy myth should look elsewhere - this is something more atmospheric and fragmented.

Restrained fight sequences evoke epic battles. Contemporary war sounds - helicopters, bombs, sirens - accompany a choreographed invasion of Troy, while deaths trigger dramatic blasts of air from the set.

Watts performs two songs within the show with virtuosic skill, though they bear little relevance or connection to the story. These musical interludes really function as transition moments (and remind us we have been denied a chorus in this adaptation).

The actors deliberately favour grand proclamation over realism. Their vocal talents drive home dialogue with commanding presence. Under Michael's direction, they transform into larger-than-life beings, meeting this challenge with compelling intensity.

As Cassandra, Blackmore is given more freedom in her delivery with direct address to the audience. It affords a more subtle and nuanced performance from the actor to emerge. Her Cassandra wears a Blondie t-shirt, smokes cigarettes and carries a plastic bag. While Blackmore's performance still prioritises style over realism, it imbues Cassandra with something more relatable and human than the other characters.

Isolating Cassandra from other mythic figures and attaching her to the current moment is particularly resonant. Cassandra, after all, is cursed with prophetic truth that no one believes, making her a vessel for contemporary anxieties about ignored warnings and unheeded voices.

Cassandra, like us, is caught within the ruination of her own society and the knowledge of its imminent collapse.

Through her eyes, Wright's play starts to feel less like an adaptation and more like a prophecy.

Troy delivers a chilling warning that speaks directly to our current moment - recent eruptions of war, the ongoing effects of colonisation, anti-immigrant sentiment, the cyclical nature of civilisational collapse. Wright's play doesn't just retell an ancient story; it holds up a mirror to our own precarious present.

The production's commitment to audacious theatricality over narrative coherence will likely alienate fans of the myth. Those who come seeking the familiar sweep of poetic storytelling may leave frustrated by Wright's fragmented, abstract approach.

This is bold, uncompromising theatre that demands audiences meet it on its own terms. Not everyone will be willing to make that journey.

Troy is at Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne, until September 25.