Shakespeare certainly wasn’t known for his absurdist wit. He was a funny guy, no doubt, but he left absurdity to be conquered by Ionesco.
But through the creative pathways of others, most of Shakespeare’s plays have been transformed into different beasts from what Shakespeare originally imagined. While many directors and writers think themselves brilliant for taking a play and changing the era and aesthetics (think Baz Luhrmann’s 1996 film “William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet”), more impressive is the Buntport Theater’s “Titus Andronicus! The Musical,” which bends the Bard’s bloodiest play into an irreverent, sometimes-musical journey into the absurd.
“Titus!” is a remount of last year’s production. It takes the familiar story of “Titus” and gives it a smart, “South Park” twist. “Titus!” ingeniously weaves together Shakespeare’s story of tough love and vengeance and the theater company’s penchant for the high- and low-brow laugh line. Amazingly, “Titus” was adapted locally by Buntport, and the inventive adaptation proves that the theater company’s age is illusory – they have talent far beyond their years.
Since “Titus” is no “Hamlet,” a recap of the story is a must. Buntport smartly handles this in a (somewhat) succinct wrapup on the back of its program. Titus, the great Roman general, returns from war where he lost 22 of his sons. Titus’ daughter, Lavinia, is promised to the new Roman emperor, Saturninus, but is in love with his brother, Bassianus. Saturninus rejects her and then takes on a seductive, Andronicus-hating prisoner, Tamora, as his bride.
Tamora’s two sons and her secret boyfriend, Aaron, set out for revenge against Titus and start by killing Bassianus, framing Titus’ sons for the deed, and then cutting off Lavinia’s hands and tongue. Saturninus tells Titus he can have his sons back in exchange for one of the Andronicus’ hands. Titus cuts off his hand, and, in return, receives only the decapitated heads of his sons – an exchange that brings on his insanity.
One of Titus’ few living sons, Lucius, is sent off to gather an army to help the Andronicuses claim Rome’s throne, but before he returns, Tamora comes to Titus with her two sons – disguised – to dig him in an even deeper hole. But Titus sees the lie, kills Tamora’s sons, and bakes their heads into pies, which she later eats.
The Buntport production is put forward as just another day on the road for Professor P.S. McGoldstien and his van of traveling players. The troupe performs out of a van, painted differently on each side to make for varying backdrops. Each actor plays multiple characters, designated by which light bulb is illuminated on the character board. For example, actor Brian Colonna, in a most excellent Oedipal twist, plays both Titus and Lavinia’s lover, Bassianus, depending on which name is lit up.
The music, which takes familiar tunes such as “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” or “Oops! … I Did It Again” and adds knowingly bad lyrics, gives the production an elevated sense of theatricality. Not only is this part-farce, but it’s a musical, with familiar songs and choreography to boot. And the cast pulls off each song with the needed overdramatic flair. When Hannah Duggan’s Lavinia emerges from her appendage “trimming,” she mumbles her way through Britney’s “Oops!” with bloody shirt cuffs and blood spilling out from of her mouth. Later, Colonna’s Titus sings, “I’ll cut off more extremities if that will bring (my sons) back any sooner,” using a sword for a cane, to the tune of “Beyond the Sea.”
“See, ladies and gentleman, we handle violence with delicacy,” says Colonna’s McGoldstien with great comedic timing.
The rest of the cast is equally strong. Duggan, who excels as Lavinia, is wonderful, especially in her tongue-less scenes that rely on her non-verbal skills. Erik Edborg, who takes on Saturninus and Lucius, is best as the puppets that are Tamora’s two sons – and also two of the play’s absolute treasures.
Chiron and Demetrius are Tamora’s sons who trim Lavinia and eventually are cooked into pies by Titus, and they were made into puppets – one a gas can, the other an old-model car radio/ashtray by the Buntport crew. The transformation adds cult-brand humor to the mix. And right when it seems like the laughter is endless, one of the final scenes, where Aaron confesses to his evildoing, lacks flow and sinks the tail end of the production to the dregs of bad writing.
“Titus!” is very un-Shakespearean, but still this irreverent romp is something the Bard would very well adore and, possibly, envy.
-Ricardo Baca, February 19, 2003, Denver Post
