Review: Titus Andronicus by the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC, Stratford-upon-Avon)
“Are not my sorrows deep, having no bottom?” — and yet somehow, they’re also… funny?
I have wanted to see Titus Andronicus on stage for YEARS.
There’s something almost delicious about witnessing a production that leaves your jaw on the floor, your eyes misty, and your stomach just slightly queasy. Titus Andronicus has always had that effect on me: it’s brutal, absurd, grotesquely poetic, and the Royal Shakespeare Company’s latest preview performance in Stratford-upon-Avon delivered every inch of that chaos with a master’s touch.
And yes, I saw what was called a preview date, which meant I could actually afford it. That alone made it feel special. And I don't begrudge the ever increasing ticket prices, especially for Shakespeare, but there's something almost rogue and exciting about getting a deal (and also not really knowing what you're getting because no one else has seen it yet!) But even if I had paid full price, I’d have left feeling the same: stunned, shaken, and strangely moved.
From the moment the lights dimmed, I knew this wasn’t going to be a tame production. We were seated in the gallery, at the very end, looking down at the stage, and it felt like peering into a pit of madness - a front-row seat to Rome’s disintegration. The set was simple, clean (for now), and beautifully imagined. One large slab of marble. Symbolic, and just waiting for a sacrifice. The staging made full use of the space, the sightlines were phenomenal, and the intimacy of the theatre gave every scream, every spurt of blood, a visceral immediacy.
And oh, the blood.
What started as disturbing became so excessive it looped back to comedy, and then right back to horror again. Blood poured, sprayed, dripped; often to the audible amusement or horror of the audience. There’s something quite Shakespearean about this tension between the grotesque and the ridiculous, and this production knew exactly when to tip the scales. At one point, the violence became so absurd that I swear someone behind me whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding,” - and yet no one looked away.
But it’s not all spectacle. The performances grounded the carnage in genuine emotion.
Aaron (Natey Jones) was spellbinding - charismatic and cruel in equal measure, a magnetic presence even in stillness.
Titus (Simon Russel Beale) was both terrifying and sympathetic, capturing that descent from noble general to grief-crazed avenger with incredible nuance.
And Lavinia (Letty Thomas)… My heart broke for her. Her pain was palpable, every silent movement loaded with meaning. One of the most quietly powerful performances of the night.
But the whole cast was phenomenal.
What struck me most was the control; how this production managed to wrestle such an infamously unwieldy play into something that felt sharp, modern, and alive. They didn’t tone it down. They leaned in. They said, “Yes, this play is mad - let’s make it magnificent.”
And they did.
I’ve loved Titus Andronicus ever since I first encountered it during my BA. Back then, it shocked me. Now, it stuns me. It’s easy to forget, when we think of Shakespeare, how wild he could be. But this show doesn’t let you forget. It pulls you into a world where grief turns to madness, revenge is a dish served blood-soaked, and the line between tragedy and comedy is scrawled in red.
This performance will stay with me. Not just for the buckets of gore or the brilliant staging, but because it reminded me of everything I love about theatre; the audacity, the artistry, the ability to take an old text and make it feel dangerous again.
So if you can catch this run: do it.
Take a seat, steel yourself, and prepare to be gutted… in the best possible way.
Written by Sarah
