A Troubling ‘Titus’ In the Ex

When Olga I. Zhulina ’09 stood alone amidst a grove of red flags, holding out forearms swathed in red scarves as the raped and amputated Lavinia in “Titus Andronicus,” my appreciation for the scene’s aesthetics conflicted with my revulsion at the violence. It wasn’t a long battle. Lavinia’s over-dramatic helplessness soon led me to silently echo Tamora’s (Cecilia I. Soler ’08) moan of impatience with Lavinia’s interminable groveling.

Directed by Zachary B.S. Sniderman ’09 and produced by Liesje Hodgson ’08, “Titus Andronicus” plays at the Loeb Experimental Theatre through December 15. Although the production lacks finesse, the cast and crew do creative justice to the play’s reputation as what is reputed to be Shakespeare’s earliest tragedy—and what is undoubtedly his bloodiest work.

Jack E. Fishburn ’08 plays Titus, a Roman general, who returns from war to find that the Roman people have elected him as their new emperor. He nobly relinquishes his throne to Saturninus (John Greene), the late emperor’s eldest son. Saturninus accepts and takes Tamora, Queen of the Goths, as his Empress. In her new position of power, Tamora wreaks bloody revenge on Titus, who killed her eldest son, and his entire family.

The glimmerings of what might later develop into “Hamlet” or “Julius Caesar” are evident in Titus Andronicus. There is revenge, lust, and violence galore. The staple characters are all present: a slutty Queen, an evil Emperor, a vengeful son and brother (Lucius, played by Christopher N. Hanley ’07-’08), and even an Ophelia-like Lavinia.

The set (designed by Grace C. Laubacher ’09) consists chiefly of a few red flags, but when coupled with Jessica C. Flores’s immaculate lighting, the simplicity is usually striking. In contrast with the plain white and blacks of the costumes (designed by Lillian Ritchie ’08-’09), the bright red of the flags and the scarves used to represent blood is effectively dramatic.

The dramatics of the actors are not as consistently on par.

Fishburn is wonderfully somber and patriarchal as Titus, with a face as pensive and tortured as Mel Gibson’s in the 1991 film adaptation of Hamlet. Simon J. Williams ’09 is perhaps the most versatile among the cast as Titus‘s brother Marcus: alternately passionate and level-headed in his grief, and touchingly tender toward his mangled niece. As Tamora, Soler is every inch the vengeful hussy. Rapists Demetrius and Chiron (Jason R. Vartikar-McCullough ’11 and Daniel R. Pecci ’09) are chillingly rambunctious and buffoonish in their cruelty. There is a particularly searing moment when they execute Lavinia’s rape scene completely aurally from off stage. The red-bandaged, mutilated Lavinia then staggers pathetically back onstage. The effect is shocking.

But a play so fraught with emotion and violence requires delicacy and nuance, and at times the drama is overdone. Saturninus is convincingly lecherous, and he stuns with the loud, boisterous delivery of his first lines. But when he continues to speak in this manner through the rest of the over-two-hour-long play, he begins to seem more like a ranting bore than a volatile emperor.

Often, poor directorial decisions contribute to the over-dramatization of the actors. In the case of blocking, the lack of acting off center stage makes the rest of the theatre seem cluttered with statues rather than actors. For example, when Titus renounces his children, one would expect his sons to be grief-stricken at both their father’s anger and their brother’s death. Instead, they expressionlessly examine the corpse as though it were a lab cadaver.

The music, chosen by director Sniderman, also battles with some of the actors’ elegantly delivered soliloquies. It is hard to concentrate on a sorrowful speech when a woman is light-heartedly tra-la-la-ing in a foreign language in the background.

Relatively unknown among the Shakespeare canon, “Titus Andronicus” is a difficult work to tackle. Although the production was a little rough-edged, the cast and crew deserve kudos simply for their daring.

—Crimson reviewer April B. Wang can be reached at abwang@fas.harvard.edu.