“Titus Andronicus” is William Shakespeare’s most violent play, and for their fall main-stage show, the Not-So-Royal Shakespeare Company presented their interpretation of the notorious tragedy under the direction of Scott Jackson, executive artistic director of Shakespeare at Notre Dame, assisted by undergraduates Francie Surdyke and Eavan Kelly. At its core, “Titus” is the story of revenge with no “good guys” and all of humanity’s problematic traits placed front and center.
The cast is fantastic across the board, but I want to highlight some standout performances. Tommy Liddy has menacing command of his scenes as Titus Andronicus, illustrating a wide array of emotions, from powerful militaristic monologues to the tragic discovery of his assaulted daughter. Lily Brustkern’s Lavinia is heartbreaking and her non-verbal storytelling haunting. Will Barrett plays a sleazy Emperor Saturninus, parodying jealous, power-hungry politicians. Imaad Jafri’s Aaron is villainous in the best ways.
I was particularly struck by the performance’s intimacy. Washington Hall’s lab isn’t large, containing no elevated stage. Audiences sit in a semi-circular orientation around a center performing area, directly in the play’s action for better or worse. With this closeness, I was delighted by several audience interactions; if you sit in the front row, prepare to be messed with. The action happens mere feet from and within the audience, and I had to actively look around the auditorium to take everything in, as cast members were in the aisles and entering from all directions. The show is also multisensory. During the cannibal feast, real cooked meat is used, and the aroma envelopes the lab.
The design of “Titus” is minimalistic, having few set pieces. This minimalism brings me to a critique: costuming. I found Tamora’s and Saturninus’ costumes to be brilliantly regal, but Titus and his sons wore all black, which, given the venue’s darkness, was a little dull. Also, the athletic shoes worn by several cast members felt out of place. I’m all for minimalist theater, but not at the expense of interesting visuals.
My personal favorite scene of the play is the emotionally dissonant wedding of Tamora (Isabel Olesinski) and Saturninus. On the one hand, you have a well-choreographed tango between the newlyweds, but around them menacingly stand the other players, separated by familial allegiance. A wedding should be joyous, but no joy is found. Rather, it’s uneasy, sinister and, due to the scene’s blocking, I felt stuck in it.
“We are putting story first with Shakespeare, as opposed to it getting lost in concept,” Jackson explained.
The show has no special gimmick; nothing in the design indicates when this telling is set, making it timeless. The subject matter and content of the play, while told through Romans and Goths, could theoretically occur today.
Jackson commented on this timeliness: “Even more, in this moment, is the idea of blind loyalty. In the second murder of the play, Titus kills his youngest son because he is standing in his way, and he feels he has loyalty to the new emperor, Saturninus, that makes him completely blind to any familial loyalty. I think that this speaks to this moment, because I am watching so many friendships and families being compromised by politics, and allegiance seems to be to politics before anything.”
The show begins with eerie music and red lighting, and, immediately, I felt like I was having a nightmare. I admit, the violence and 14 deaths are disturbing, but nevertheless well done. While the horror genre may not have existed in Shakespeare’s day, “Titus” is, by modern standards, a work of horror literature. The plot is suspenseful, scary and gratuitously violent.
“We have all of these films [today] that are so gory … so there’s still this appetite for gore or vengeance, whether onstage or on film,” Jackson noted.
I found myself looking away and cringing during some of the more gruesome sequences, thanks to the tech crew’s realistic, oozing blood effects. Knowing the gore was fake didn’t lessen the emotional impact. I appreciated, however, that some of the more gruesome sequences, such as Titus severing his own hand, occurred off stage. Instead of watching it unfold, you hear Liddy scream and then witness the gory aftermath of him holding his severed hand in a bag.
Brustkern sums it up well: “Theater is actually a sort of almost safe way to re-sensitize ourselves to violence because we know it’s not real, but we can instill a sense of proper horror at these people’s lived experiences.”
Before the performance, I was informed of the show’s comedic aspects and told it’s okay to laugh. Honestly, I struggled to find them all, feeling the darkness was overpowering. Some of the dialogue is objectively funny, and I did crack a few smiles, especially at the legendary Shakespearean “thy mother” joke. Another comedic touch was using paper airplanes in lieu of arrows.
Olesinski encourages viewers who “have the urge to laugh, laugh. Some scenes can be treated in a little more absurd manner.”
I attended a dress rehearsal, so maybe a full audience’s energy would’ve changed my perception. I urge you, go see the show and form your own opinion on its humor.
In conversations with cast and crew, one theme kept surfacing: re-sensitization to violence. We’ve unfortunately become numb to violence as a human reality, consuming it in our media and entertainment.
“You can turn violent [content] off on your phone but coming to a show and being forced to watch it … it makes people more aware of the violence people are capable of,” Surdyke commented.
I can vouch that the actor’s proximity to the audience increases the stakes; the safety of a screen is eliminated. I was informed that NSR hopes to increase empathy within the audience and make them more aware of violence’s true destructive horror.
When asked what audiences should take away, Olesinski said, “The actions in this play could have been avoided with forgiveness instead of constant violence. Instead of trying to let go of their grief, a lot of it’s just trying to find the worst coping mechanisms ever.”
If the long content advisory looks worrisome, Surdyke comments, “Take the trigger warning seriously, but don’t let it scare you away. [“Titus”] is still ridiculously funny in some scenes. It’s just as crazy as any NSR show.”
It’s intense. It’s bloody. But that’s the point: critiquing society’s obsession with violence and revenge. It certainly stuck with me, and I hope that it encourages conversation well after bows. Plus, 100% of ticket sales support the Family Justice Center of St. Joseph County, a local non-profit that aids survivors of domestic and sexual abuse.
