"The Lamentable Tragedie of Titus Andronicus" by The Birth Play Project at The Black Forest Inn

The Birth Play Project's latest Shakespearean adaptation in their mission to "place reproductive stories in public memory" is his bloodiest and most brutal play, The Lamentable Tragedie of Titus Andronicus, believed to be the first tragedy he wrote. This play is so rarely done that this theater blogger, who tries to see everything that #TCTheater has to offer, has only seen it once, and that was a one-hour Fringe version. So to my knowledge this is the first full production of Titus Adronicus in at least the last 15 years of #TCTheater. Why did they choose this play, and what does it have to do with birth? It all makes sense when you see it. Like in their production of Measure for Measure, they bring the off-stage birth on stage, in this story that is at least in part about a mother's search for vengeance for her murdered child(ren). But as director Zillah Glory Langsjøen said in her pre-show speech, this production of Titus Andronicus is not a revenge play, but a grief and a grievance play. A play about the potential for healing after tragedy, trauma, and violence, something that resonates deeply with this community in this space, mere feet from where Alex Pretti was murdered six months ago. It's playing through August 1 only, and space is limited, so don't wait too long to get tickets.

The title character is a fictional Roman general, the story set in a fictional version of ancient Rome. Titus returns from a long war with the Goths, with their queen Tamara and her children as prisoners. To avenge his 21 sons killed in the war, Titus kills Tarama's eldest son. This begins a cycle of violence, as Tamara, who marries Saturninus, the new emperor of Rome, vows revenge on Titus and his family, and enacts it in horrifying ways, which then prompts Titus to go after Tamara's family. When does this cycle of violence end? In this story, only when nearly everyone is dead. The birth story in this play is Tamara's, as she gives birth to a baby that is not her husband the emperor's, but her lover's, Aaron the Moor, orchestrator of some of the foul plans. The baby is then ever-present in the story, somehow protected from the violence, and perhaps represents a better future.

The play is performed in under two hours with no intermission, two action-packed hours that fly by with great momentum. A cast of just ten plays more than twice that many characters, with some murder victims portrayed by dummies. Isabella Dunsieth (who is also credited with the adaptation) is the strong and vengeful Queen Tamara, directing her sons (played by Luciana Stich and Porter Eldredge) in her plans and gleefully watching them play out. Kjer Whiting is the almost sympathetic Titus, until he too turns to violent revenge, with Olivia Nelson as his wise brother Marcus and Jonathan Edwards as his surviving son Lucius. Ben Glisczinski is the brash and careless new emperor Saturninus, Arcadia German is his brother, who marries Titus' daughter Lavinia (Gillian Mueller), both falling victim to Tamara's brutal revenge. Tia Tanzer is Aaron the Moor, the character who seems to delight most in the violence, a soft spot only for his son.

The play is performed in the event space at The Black Forest Inn, an intimate space with an audience of maybe 40, playing the role of Romans when the characters give speeches to the crowds. Three large rectangular boxes are moved around to create different shapes and spaces, including tombs and pits. Lighting and sound design create some dramatic effects, but the storytelling relies mostly on the talent of this cast in the intimate space. They're dressed in modern-Roman-chic costumes, and perform some impressive fight choreography seen up close, blood at times represented by ribbons. (Assistant and fight direction by H Ashley, lighting design by David Pisa, sound design by Taj Ruler, set and prop design by Robert McGrady, puppets by Will Schroeder.)

I saw Titus Andronicus, a fictional story of ancient Rome, on the same day that I saw the new film adaptation of The Odyssey, one of our oldest mythical stories from ancient Greece. It was an unintended but serendipitous pairing. Both stories remind us that the history of the world is a history of war and violence, both show us the senselessness and sheer horror of war, both call for an end to the violence, and a hope for healing, for civilization to rise again. After millennia of human history, we're not there yet, which is why we keep telling these stories.