Last Updated on July 2, 2026
This blood-soaked production squeezes the guts out of Shakespeare’s vengeful maniacs.
4.5 out of 5.0 starsThere is so much blood and gore in Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus that, at some points, the audience cannot help but laugh. By the time his sons’ severed heads are brought to him in plastic bags, even Titus himself begins to laugh. “Why,” he says, when confronted for his giggling, “I have not another tear to shed.”
Titus Andronicus is one of Shakespeare’s earliest plays, and it is one of his least subtle. There are a few clever plotlines, but only a couple of memorable soliloquies. There are interesting themes of ageing, race, familial love, and the demise of Ancient Rome, but mostly, Titus is a straightforward play about revenge. You kill my son, I kill yours. It is the closest the bard gets to Tarantino.

This RSC production at Hampstead Theatre, transferred from Stratford, leans into the lack of subtlety. There are buckets and hosepipes filled with blood, severed heads and hands in bags. The floor of the set is designed by Joanna Scotcher to look like a white slab of marble, emphasising the blood in which it is drenched. Audience members in the front row are given splash blankets to protect them. This is a Rome that has lost all moral sense, directed only by vengeance, satisfied only when the whole city is stained red.
All the elements of the production are executed (if you pardon the pun) superbly: from the set, to the sound design (Tingying Dong) and haunting music (Matthew Herbert and Benjamin Kwasi Burrell), to the lighting (Lee Curran) and practical effects that allow hands to be chopped off in front of our eyes. Scenes are shocking when they need to be and slapstick when they can afford to be played for laughs.

While the play feels like one violent scene after another, there is occasionally pause amidst the gore. Aaron (Ken Nwosu – Othello, Three Sisters), the schemer behind much of the violence, is excellently portrayed; part devil, part loving father. While the play makes it difficult to have any sympathy whatsoever for these bloodthirsty maniacs, Nwosu squeezes what pathos he can from the scenes with his newborn child and with his illicit love, the Empress of Rome. At times, he is also very funny, making his psychopathic moments all the more shocking.
John Hodgkinson has the impossible task of stepping into the shoes of Simon Russell Beale in the titular role. Beale was, for many, the main attraction of this production at Hampstead Theatre, having lit up the Stratford stage before the play was transferred. Unfortunately, he withdrew due to ill health. At times, Hodgkinson’s choices seem inspired by Beale and one longs for the master, but in general, he does well to make the role his own. He is believable as a strongman turned mad by grief, the love he has for his children wresting some compassion from the audience. However, it is his unnecessary violence – killing the sons of the future Empress, Tamora – that sets off the whole gory story, and thus his appeals for sympathy ultimately fall on deaf ears. His speech appealing to the stones to hear his cries is poignant; no one else will do so.

Tamora (played by Wendy Kweh – Snow in Midsummer, The Oresteia) is a delightful femme fatale, manipulating the childish and out-of-his-depth Emperor Saturninus (Max Bennett – A Knight’s Tale, Macbeth). Letty Thomas (As You Like It, Strategic Love Play) is powerful as Lavinia, whose rape silences the audience. She becomes the emotional focal point of the play, and her death feels genuinely significant while others feel like just another body added to the heap.
No doubt, most audience members would have loved to have seen what Simon Russell Beale would have brought to the drama. In his absence, this production squeezes almost as much as possible out of Shakespeare’s unrelenting gore-fest.
Titus Andronicus at Hampstead Theatre runs until 11th October.
Eton Avenue,
Swiss Cottage,
London,
NW3 3EU
Looking for something different? We also recommend The Lady from the Sea currently showing at The Bridge Theatre

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