Shakespeare at his bloodiest
For the AJC
Friday, July 17, 2009
The violence in Shakespeare’s “Titus Andronicus” is so excessive it borders on camp, so it’s nice to see Georgia Shakespeare deliver an emotionally nuanced production in which the pathos and pity match the battle and blood.
The tale of Titus — an ancient Roman general who loses two dozen children in a game of war and wit with the marauding Goths — is an orgy of rape, revenge, dismemberment, decapitation and cannibalism. As directed here by Richard Garner, it is also a harrowing, heart-rending spectacle of thrilling fight choreography, evocative live music by Atlanta composer Klimchak and — OK, I’ll admit — a few gross-out moments that are so outlandish they summon giggles born of both nervous anxiety and guilty pleasure.
Titus’ (Chris Kayser) daughter Lavinia (Sarah M. Johnson) is a victim of the Goths in Shakespeare’s ‘Titus Andronicus.’ Jennifer Hofstetter
"Titus Andronicus"
Grade: B+
Through Aug. 2, in repertory with "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." $15-$45. Georgia Shakespeare, Oglethorpe University, 4484 Peachtree Road, Atlanta. 404-264-0020, gashakespeare.org
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Flesh rips audibly. Bodies are chopped and baked into meat pies just like they are in “Sweeney Todd.” And a banquet scene dissolves into a killing spree in which an avenging madman (Daniel Thomas May as Lucius) wields a giant ax to comic effect. On the opening night of this out-of-control gore-fest, the audience got a bonus zinger when an errant saber went crashing off stage and landed just inches from the front row. Cool.
Not to be overlooked, of course, are the consistently good performances from an expansive cast, too numerous to name here. Chris Kayser acquits himself handsomely in the title role, playing a character whose abject grief loosens his marbles. His housefly scene, played opposite Tim McDonough’s Marcus, is a delightful comic interlude and foil to the moment when Titus realizes the Goths have mutilated his daughter Lavinia (who Sarah M. Johnson portrays with an eloquent movement vocabulary).
As Tamora, Queen of the Goths, Tess Malis Kincaid is a figure of glamor, rage and raging eroticism, while Joe Knezevich’s take on Saturninus — as a kind of loud, obnoxious and ineffectual emperor — is a tad overblown. Neal A. Ghant, as Tamora’s lover, Aaron the Moor, is superlative, embellishing his performance with comedic details and delivering a menacing soliloquy that is the show’s best speech.
On matters of taste and design, it’s a mixed bag.
Kat Conley’s set, smoky plexiglass panels that signify public spaces and monumental tombs, brings to mind ’80s discos and ancient Pompeii; instead of topping the architectural structure with classic statuary, she installs waxy corpses that look like they belong in the “Bodies” exhibit. Christine Turbitt’s costumes are like a mini-United Nations — a peach sari for Lavinia, leather for the Goths, African-style garb for Aaron, and so on. The clothes are appropriate but rarely inspired.
The conceit of smearing bloody handprints onto the panels each time Titus loses a child feels a little precious. But Klimchak’s woozy score enhances the text; it’s a drum kit of horror and psychological suspense, punctuated by what sounded like an Aboriginal didgeridoo.
In staging this rarely produced tragedy, Georgia Shakespeare unveils what is probably the best offering of its summer season. Bloody well done.
