Ion Martea
posted 8 February 2006

Titus Andronicus was a veritable box-office wonder when it was staged in the early 1590s. Murder, rape, adultery, vengeance and retribution - all abounded in one blood-fest extravaganza. Yet its very style is its critical doom, the play being pigeonholed alongside slasher movies in a category that could best be defined as gore trash entertainment. Therefore, the play can easily be dismissed from the very start for all but Shakespeare fanatics, ready for any opportunity to see a production based on the work of the bard.

The plot is slightly cumbersome in its development, but essentially it can be stripped down to a simple structure: war custom - revenge - revenge on the revenged - nihilism. In ancient Rome, General Titus Andronicus returns glorious from the war against the Goths, and announces Saturninus as the new emperor. To commemorate the victims of the war, he is given charge of the prisoners of war, including Tamora, the Queen of the Goths, and her three sons. Her oldest son is slain, his limbs are cut off, and thrown in the sacrificial fire. Tamora is saved by Saturninus, who will later marry her. The queen's revenge is a detailed scheme that gets rid of a great number of supporting characters, but also Titus' hand, and his daughter's hands and tongue. And when the audience thinks there was enough horror in one play already, then the human pie Titus prepares for his last supper is unquestionably the single most disturbing scene in classical drama. In the end, one is left only with two other children, who may well engage in similar bloodshed in the years to follow.

Titus was written in the middle period of Shakespeare's career, at a time by which the author had learned his craft well enough to be able to experiment with the medium, but had not yet achieved the depth of his later masterpieces. Despite the gore, there is meaning hidden in this ancient tale. The man is first viewed as a hero, yet a hero capable of cruelty, a basic characteristic of human kind. From parent to child, customs and ambition lead man with no other choice but dwell in a state of malice. Even love is defined in relation to it, as it is because we love that we feel the need to revenge.

But Titus Andronicus is not a masterpiece, despite its claim to having some of the most beautiful passages in Shakespearian drama. It is ultimately an experimental piece, akin to Beckett's Breath, questioning the conventions of storytelling, rather than establishing a serious philosophical discourse deriving from the plot. Staging it therefore is a tricky business. One can either offer a literal representation that would end up in a blood-flooded stage, inspiring the most horrific nightmares. Or, one can take an experimental, physical theatre approach, attracting more attention to the modernity of the play and its various ideas.

Wildcard Theatre Company chose the latter. Director Andrew Potter takes six actors, and throws them in the Titus cooking-pot. Playing multiple characters works in this case, primarily because none of them, except the title character, are properly developed. It is action, mainly of the external type, that defines their choices. Shifting from one personality to the other can work as easily as a change of robe. Yet the actors manage to do more than just rely on costume. On this occasion, the audience is rarely in doubt in matching the characters, a skill the actors deserve to be commended for. Particular praise goes to Matthew Rowland-Roberts, whose expressive face easily fills the imperial shoes of Saturninus and the ones belonging to the sadistic thug Chiron, son of Tamora.

However, Titus Andronicus leads the show, as always. Andy Wisher tackles him honourably, particularly in a speech of great sensibility at the discovery of the general's raped daughter. Shakespeare plays often sound better than music, if delivered properly. Wisher achieves an elegiac tone that rings true in all of us, especially in parents. It is rage, because the work he had created was deformed not by time or nature, but by the hands of man. It is rage, because indirectly his own vengeful hands have led to the girl's tragic fate.

There is definitely something unsettling in Wildcard's production. Maybe because the stylised horror tends to mingle jokingly with a cheerful soundtrack by Jules Maxwell, that moves from the passionate tango beats to the soothing jazz atmosphere. Leaving the play, one will definitely consider revisiting Titus Andronicus, trying to untangle the web that hides behind the experimental dust. Comedy mingles with tragedy, yet the real horror lurks within us, as we perceive realistically the bloodshed without anyone showing it to us. For that single emotion, it is worth seeing a play that is neither a masterpiece, nor masterfully delivered. Yet Potter has found a way to let this emotion be sensed, and in this, he only succeeds.

Till 26 February 2006. See the Wildcard website for tour details.