Titus Andronicus

There's a reason why "Titus Andronicus" is one of Shakespeare's rarely produced plays: Its excess of tragedy reaches such gothic proportions that it almost becomes comical. The Job-like Titus, a noble old Roman general, is beset by so many catastrophes—mostly at the hands of the vicious Tamora, Queen of the Goths, and her heinous henchman and lover, the Moor Aaron—that the wrong director can turn it into an unintended laughfest. A short list of the hero's troubles includes losing his hand, his daughter's rape and mutilation, and seeing several of his sons murdered and the sole surviving one banished.

For much of the first act of the Public Theater's production, I thought director Michael Sexton had fallen into this trap of indulging in too much melodrama. He has also added some confusing concepts. There is the silent young boy standing in for all of Titus' slaughtered offspring and one of Tamora's, and all those sawhorses and large plywood sections with Magic Marker symbols on them, as if we were at the ancient Roman Home Depot.

But once the calamities reach the saturation point and Titus resolves to exact revenge on his tormentors, the production takes a startling and bracing turn. Mark Barton's lighting suddenly transforms Brett J. Banakis' bland set into a stark, scary space, almost like a police interrogation room. Jay O. Sanders' Titus collapses as if the weight of despair has finally sunk in. His features contort into a silent scream of anguish and then he unexpectedly laughs hysterically. The enormity of sorrow becomes achingly real as the actor conveys despair, madness, and fury all at once. From there this "Titus" takes off like a rocket on a course of bloody vengeance, with Sanders commandingly at the controls. The final destination is a feast of cannibalism and slaughter. Sexton throws in just one bucket of blood too many before the final fadeout, but he nevertheless achieves a balance between Grand Guignol and human tragedy. The director relishes the bloodbath without reducing the characters to wolfish barbarians.

Sanders meets his equal in Stephanie Roth Haberle's Tamora and Ron Cephas Jones' Aaron. Haberle, who was fighting a sore throat at the performance attended, makes Tamora a formidable combination of snake and tiger, subtly plotting the destruction of her enemies and slicing them with delight once they are in her clutches. Jones is also frighteningly razor-toothed in creating Aaron's villainy, but he also endows the Moor with a fatherly tenderness when protecting his illegitimate baby mothered by Tamora. I still had a problem with some of Sexton's confusing multiple casting, but young Frank Dolce, as several slain sons, and Daoud Heidami, who picks up seven different roles, acquit themselves well under the circumstances. William Jackson Harper, Patrick Carroll, and Jacob Fishel are full-bodied supporting cads. Rob Campbell is a virile Lucius, Titus' remaining son; Sherman Howard is a sagacious and calm Marcus, Titus' less volatile brother; and Jennifer Ikeda is heartbreaking as the victimized Lavinia, the hero's disgraced daughter.

Presented by and at the Public Theater as part of PublicLab, 425 Lafayette St., NYC. Dec. 13–18. Tue.–Sun., 7:30 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 3 p.m. (212) 967-7555 or www.publictheater.org. Casting by Jordan Thaler and Heidi Griffiths.