To Stratford to see the gore-fest that is Titus Andronicus.
This being a Bank Holiday weekend, our first- and second-choice Premier Inns were either fully booked or priced beyond what we considered reasonable, so we opted for one slightly further afield, (Stratford Road, Hockley Heath, Solihull).
A quick change, and out to the ever-reliable Edward Moon, where my burger and brownie were much enjoyed. The 2IC also enjoyed her steamed fish and ice-cream-filled profiteroles.
Out into the town for a leisurely walk to the theatre, where we whiled away some time strolling along the canal and around the perimeter of the theatre (from where we saw lead actor David Troughton on the balcony of his dressing room, deep in conversation on his mobile phone).
Inside, and to our regular seats, from which this was the view:
Obligatory selfie:
Programme:
So what of the play?
I was aware beforehand that:
- Titus was one of Shakespeare's earliest plays, and was therefore unlikely to bear the hall-marks of a master dramatist at the top of his game
- it is his bloodiest play, with more than a dozen on-stage deaths, a (double) rape, amputations and cannibalism
- in 1927 T.S. Eliot described Titus as "one of the stupidest and most uninspired plays ever written, a play in which it is incredible that Shakespeare had any hand at all".
On the other hand, given my aim to see as many of Shakespeare's plays as I can, and that this was the RSC, my desire to see the play was in no way diminished.
Others, unfortunately, were more easily put off. We were disappointed, but not entirely surprised, to find that the 'house' was far from full; in fact, the upper circle was completely empty. We presumed that the theatre had followed common practice and relocated any audience members who had purchased seats up there, to present a more united audience in the stalls and balcony. It's possible that the reduced audience was, in part, due to the fact that this play has not been studied in schools for many years, so the usual parties of children were notable by their absence.
Those who stayed away missed an excellent production of a play that, while not a classic, entertained and gave food for thought in equal measure. Admittedly, I found the "West-Side-Story-esque" introduction, with gangs and police engaged in stylised violence set to a sound-track of music and news reporting, less than convincing - but you can't have everything.
In the title role, David Troughton was superb. Special mention should also be made of Hannah Morrish as Lavinia. When she reappeared on stage after being raped, her trousers and underwear around her ankles, her hands amputated and her tongue torn out, you could literally have heard a pin drop as the audience collectively held their breath.
In a first for us, the programme credited an illusionist - presumably for the effective way in which another amputation was carried out on stage, and for the way in which Titus's later absence of a limb was portrayed without simply resorting to a longer sleeve.
But this production was not just a blood-bath. There was humour too - enough to give credence to the view that Shakespeare always intended this to be seen as a black comedy containing, as it does, perhaps the original "Your Momma" joke.
The following reviews are all worth a look:
Those who stayed away missed an excellent production of a play that, while not a classic, entertained and gave food for thought in equal measure. Admittedly, I found the "West-Side-Story-esque" introduction, with gangs and police engaged in stylised violence set to a sound-track of music and news reporting, less than convincing - but you can't have everything.
In the title role, David Troughton was superb. Special mention should also be made of Hannah Morrish as Lavinia. When she reappeared on stage after being raped, her trousers and underwear around her ankles, her hands amputated and her tongue torn out, you could literally have heard a pin drop as the audience collectively held their breath.
In a first for us, the programme credited an illusionist - presumably for the effective way in which another amputation was carried out on stage, and for the way in which Titus's later absence of a limb was portrayed without simply resorting to a longer sleeve.
But this production was not just a blood-bath. There was humour too - enough to give credence to the view that Shakespeare always intended this to be seen as a black comedy containing, as it does, perhaps the original "Your Momma" joke.
The following reviews are all worth a look:
- At the Theatre
- Behind the arras
- Elementary WhatsOn
- Jonathan Baz Reviews
- Moss Cottage
- Partially Obstructed View
- Peter Viney's Blog
- Rev Stan
- Reviewing Shakespeare
- Sincerely Amy
- Stratford Upon Avon Theatre Review
- The 730 Review
- The Daily Telegraph
- The Guardian
- The Leamington Courier
- The National Student
- The New York Times
- The Stage
- The Times
- Theatreworld Internet Magazine
- twilightdawning
- Weekend Notes
- What's On Stage
And so, back to our hotel and, the following morning, an uneventful return trip home.
Footnote: David Troughton is a fine and well-established Shakespearean actor (and regular in "The Archers"). In the 1980s he played the role of Dr Bob Buzzard in the UK TV classic comedy drama "A Very Peculiar Practice". Buzzard was in the habit of writing memos to the head of the medical practice, played by Edinburgh-born actor Graham Crowden, who would view each with increasing cynicism and suspicion.
For many years, on receipt of any managerial document of dubious content or worth, my late friend and colleague C would enquire in a pronounced and theatrical Scots accent, "Do I detect the spores of Dr Bob Buzzard's r-r-rinky-dinky dot matrix printer?". For this, and many other reasons, I miss C more, even, than I thought I would.
Footnote: David Troughton is a fine and well-established Shakespearean actor (and regular in "The Archers"). In the 1980s he played the role of Dr Bob Buzzard in the UK TV classic comedy drama "A Very Peculiar Practice". Buzzard was in the habit of writing memos to the head of the medical practice, played by Edinburgh-born actor Graham Crowden, who would view each with increasing cynicism and suspicion.
For many years, on receipt of any managerial document of dubious content or worth, my late friend and colleague C would enquire in a pronounced and theatrical Scots accent, "Do I detect the spores of Dr Bob Buzzard's r-r-rinky-dinky dot matrix printer?". For this, and many other reasons, I miss C more, even, than I thought I would.
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