Zhang Bai Han and Cast Photo by Mikenzie Gilbert

In its intimate setting with an audience surrounding on four sides, The Pear Theatre is presenting Naomi Iizuka's lyrical, poetic, magical yet harshly realistic re-telling of Homer's The Odyssey, her Anon(ymous), which premiered in 2006 in Minneapolis. Set in a present-day America where an immigrant young man–identified in the program as Anon but calling himself "Nobody"–goes on a journey across the country seeking desperately to find his origins and the mother he left behind. Utilizing mesmerizing movement, clever puppetry, engrossing sound and lighting, and an excellent cast of thirteen, Vinh G. Nguyen directs an Anon(ymous) that explores and exposes the stark isolation, ever-present fear and danger, lost identity, and a deep longing for "home" that millions of immigrants experience on a daily basis -- perhaps now more than ever in 2026 America.

Zhang Bai Han often looks almost like a deer in a car's headlights as his Anon wanders about attempting to recall a mother's cuddling him and humming a sweet lullaby -- a scene we see in his memory bank. He vaguely remembers escaping a ravaging war of overhead helicopters and exploding bombs ... "A war that lasted for so long people forgot what the war was for." Now all he can do is "go to sleep and remember the faces of the people you love."

A memory that repeatedly returns is he and his mother being crowded with other frightened escapees in a small boat in a stormy ocean. The scene plays out time and again in near arm's length distance from us as audience, as scared faces of huddled refugees suddenly look in horror when blue-clothed waves overtake the unseen boat and toss them in an equally invisible to us but very much present to them, ocean. As his body is uplifted in a ballet-like sequence, Anon is carried away from his mother and the others, landing on some unknown beach. All occurs as members of the cast appear and disappear in dark, shadows, and flashing lights via four corner entrances -- a mode of the many scene transitions employed throughout the fast-paced, totally captivating ninety minutes.

Anon is discovered -- and we hear later helped to survive -- on the private beach of a wealthy family whose giggly, fawning, and non-stop-talking daughter, Calista (Isabelle Polito) does all she can to lure him to stay with a sack full of snacks; promises of a life of luxury in front of giant, flat-screen TV; and her love of his exotic-colored skin ("Exotic is so in right now"). Similar to Homer's Calypso who imprisons Odysseus for seven years, Calista is the first of many both alluring and deadly characters that Anon will meet whose counterparts can be found in the epic, 8th-century BCE poem.

But for all her promises and temptations, Anon becomes increasingly agitated and determined to leave to find "home." Appearing once again unannounced to give him aid and advice -- as will happen multiple times in his harrowing journey -- is a beautiful, enticing woman in blue, flowing silks, Naja (Qian Zhang), who says she is a goddess (think Odysseus' guardian, Athena). In a raft surrounded by delightfully dancing dolphins (just a pair of Director Nguyen's many appearing puppets), Naja begins to awaken Anon's memories and send him onward in his journey.

By means of only four framed, oft-appearing table-like boxes and their sets of changing props designed by Louis Stone-Collonge; an extraordinarily real and other-worldly soundscape designed by Foster Douglas, and a multi-faceted lighting design by Raven Manalo, we travel with Anon through tunnels, on top of fast-moving trains, in a city's back alley, along a busy highway waiting for a truck's pick-up, and more. Along the way, Anon encounters a host of characters who both try to help him and attempt to destroy him.

He meets in an unnamed city, an Indian girl, Nasreen (Kristy Aquino) and her restaurant-owning, immigrant parents, Ritu (Maya Capur) and Ali (Dan C.) -- the latter a friendly, gracious father who is blind and severely crippled from a war from which they too escaped. Ritu's spicy, delicious delicacies are another temptation for Anon to linger (much like Homer's Lotus Eaters), but the smell of Ritu's jasmine reminds him of a smell from his mother and sends him onward.

half-blind brute of a butcher (Mr. Zyclo played with monstrous savagery by Zach Vaughn-Munck) is Anon's Cyclops that he must rise in new-found courage to escape. The honky-tonk friendliness of a Out West bar and its enticing barmaid -- Serza (Sheryl Lim) who grabs Anon for a slow dance to Dolly's "I Will Always Love You" -- is a Circe that he struggles to escape even as she tempts him with "You can stay here forever."

Intermittently throughout, we are transported to a scene in what seems like a clothing factory in the South -- clearly a sweat shop with women immigrants from all corners of the world. There we meet Nemasani (Natalie To) who is delaying the pressing marriage proposal by a racist, rough-handling Mr. Makus (Christian Vaughn-Munck) by promising only to marry after she completes sewing a shroud -- one she shreds every night in order never to finish. That shroud is for a son she believes drowned long ago in a rough sea as they escaped a terrible war. Her story and her outcome are once again parallel to the abandoned wife of Odysseus, Penelope, who thwarts the proposals of suitors as she awaits the improbable return of her husband.

As Anon continues his journey to find his mother, images of other immigrants -- many now ghosts -- appear on the floor-level stage before us, echoing their haunting stories ("I disappeared," "I ran away," "I changed my name"), their names ("Farid," "Yousif," "Chia" "Soo Chai"), and their pleas of "Remember me" even though they all in the end declare over and again, "I am anonymous." Perhaps the several appearances of these story-interrupting refugees who look in all their diversity like the pictures we see on TV, in newspapers, on social media, and especially live on our streets is the most impactful aspect of Iizuka's eye-opening script and Nguyen's gripping direction -- especially their final departing of 'I am anonymous."

For all its power, there are times when The Pear Theatre's production of Anon(ymous) becomes somewhat too fantastical and a bit difficult to swallow (like a butcher who is chopping up human brains in order to enjoy with his blood-like Chianti). While a knowledge of Homer's epic is not required, without some acquaintance, I think at times an audience member might be completely lost and scratching their head.

But easy for anyone in today's USA to understand but difficult to stomach are the ongoing comments from the white Americans we meet who describe immigrants in too-familiar terms like "flooding in with strange customs," "don't speak English," "not like us," and even worse as "a dime a dozen," "a nobody." The Pear Theatre's Anon(ymous) is a too-timely reminder of the growing discord in the USA against millions of people who have often escaped wars like those still ravaging across the globe -- all only looking for a place they can once again identify as "home."

Anon(ymous) runs through May 3, 2026, at The Pear Theatre, 1110 La Avenida, Suite A, Mountain View CA. For tickets and information, please visit www.thepear.org.