WET's Titus Amends a Gory Story
Nathan Sorseth in the title role of Titus at Washington Ensemble Theatre. Photo: Victoria Lahti.
WET's Titus (at WET through June 15, 8 p.m. Thurs-Mon, tickets: $10-$18) still tells the tragic story of "noble Titus Andronicus," a famed Roman warrior who, it becomes awkwardly clear, is known mainly for leading his sons off to battles from which they never return. When he refuses his "people's choice" chance to become emperor of Rome, bending his obedient knee instead to the wildly-unsuited-for-leadership Saturninus, son of the late emperor, the Roman streets get even bloodier.
But this is one of WET's iconoclastic adaptations, where they've taken a year to workshop with actors, designers, and guest artists, and have elaborated like industrious neon coral on the bones of Shakespeare's play. Directed by Katjana Vadeboncoeur, the play has become an art installation of sorts, with Andrea Bryn Bush's scenic design, Heidi Ganser's costumes, Brendan Patrick Hogan's sound, and Andrew Lazarow's video projections combining to sometimes remarkable effect.
Crammed onto the cramped stage is a cast that bleeds talent, in addition to the items mentioned. Nathan Sorseth plays a shaved-headed, bombastic, honor-bound Titus, slowly coming to grips with all he's sacrificed for that honor; while Montana von Fliss's Tamora, "a Goth queen" (notice us sparing you the Goth jokes), adds a hint of blonde ambition to her survival tactics. Adam Standley's bewildered, bitchy partyboy Saturninus (complete with Alan Cumming's forward-swept hair) is having so much fun getting his way, you actually start to see his side of things.
The stage itself is two morgue-like walls flanking a corridor that rises toward the back of the stage--people run up it to claim the high political ground, but it also becomes a dinner table, in one of those rare instances where a set makes you think. Meanwhile, the backs of the stainless-steel (looking) morgue compartments are white muslin, slit in the middle in a way that allows people to emerge or re-enter the womb in disturbingly visceral fashion. Since most of the cast is Suzuki trained, Vadeboncoeur's (or the ensemble's) decision to amplify Shakespeare's stylized language with movements pays off with crisp, clean actions, and the rape choreographed as a Broadway number creeps you out with its implied violences and technical precision.
That's Anthony Darnell and Alex Matthews dancing with the doomed Lavinia (Mikano Fukaya); Darnell and Matthews do double- and triple-duty and are fascinating to watch, whether they are ramrod-straight Andronici or loping, feral Goths. As both Bassianus, Saturninus's brother, and Lucius, Titus's remaining son, the unmistakable David S. Hogan made two roles stick that come with not a lot of time to make an impression, but still carry weight.
Jonathan Hoonhout's Aaron, a titanically vengeful Moor who yet risks his life for the baby he has with the Goth queen Tamora, is a terrorist cell of one, scarily starring in his own movie--a Moor was the ur-"Giant Negro" of Shakespeare's day, and while Othello elicits sympathy, Aaron is motiveless pure evil, regretting nothing. There's a scene where Tamora pretends to be Revenge for a grief-addled Titus--well, Aaron is Vengeance and he's not pretending. You never get to know him, the way you never get to know, say, a suicide bomber, which makes Hoonhout's accomplishment that much more impressive.
Titus is a strange play--violent, gory, brutal, sadistic--and yet it dabbles with allegory as if it means to be morally instructive. Almost everyone in it is out for themselves, in one way or another, though somehow only Tamora and Aaron get rapped for being beast-like and demonic. About the only thing you learn is that when there's a power vacuum, a moral center is hard to find, too. It is never easy to play it as it lays, but that's what WET has done, creating a startlingly beautiful, funny, and savage art performance.
