Ivan's parable well-told in drama

War is hell. This phrase has become a cliché. But try to come up with three other words to summarize this horrible human creation. It seems impossible to render the sentiment differently without diminishing its meaning, so best find another approach.

With "Ivan the Drunk and His Terrible Tale of Woe" the two-time Ivey Award-winning contemporary performance troupe Off-Leash Area marries its signature physical theater approach with magical realism to transcend the limits of language. This war story is profound, fantastically strange, sometimes sprawling in scope, and, of course, hellish.

Artistic Director Paul Herwig is Ivan, an early 20th-century Russian war veteran whose experience is a composite of historic conflicts. His elusive goal is a return to home and normalcy.

He travels with "Burden," a life-sized dummy packed with physical embodiments of Ivan's memories. Ivan keeps up a running conversation with Burden, who is a frequent target for blame, but just as often a source of comfort (and an uncomplaining audience for Ivan's ridiculous poetry).

Ivan has experienced tragedy (the loss of his mother), cruelty (his brutal treatment of a traitor) and psychological battle scars. At home, fueled by vodka, he's belligerent toward his family but remorseful afterwards. He seeks peace yet cannot shake the past.

Ivan is on a journey toward his demise but thankfully it's not just a funeral march. Local playwright and arts writer Max Sparber's text illuminates the character's childlike and ruthless sides, while Herwig wholly inhabits Ivan's trauma.

Co-artistic director Jennifer Isle, Karla Grotting, Judith Howard, and Kym Longhi assume several roles. They scurry across the stage as shell-shocked refugees, cower as Ivan's beaten-down relatives, and don costumes worthy of "Pan's Labyrinth" (designed by Longhi) to spark insanity as anti-revolutionary harpies. Other key elements are the evocative sound score and original composition by Twin Cities composer Ben Siems as well as Herwig's endlessly imaginative set.

The one weakness of "Ivan the Drunk" lies in its references to Orthodox Christianity and religious iconography. The work loses some nimbleness as these dense theological concepts accumulate.

This doesn't detract from the poignancy of Ivan's destiny, but the heavy-handed symbolism in the final scenes seems peculiar after the harsh reality he -- and we alongside him -- has endured. Then again, perhaps that may be the very reason why it is there, as absolution for one broken man.

Caroline Palmer writes regularly about dance.