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Comments (2):

  1. Marcus Jones says:

    An obvious soliloquy by Titus, this is an interesting way of filming it. The beginning starts with people walking past him and even almost over him as he shouts his words out to the crowd. Instead of him having an aside or being alone on a stage, he instead is “alone” as the progression marches past. The camera also focuses solely on him with the progression acting as a background, creating a film version of an aside in a way. The dream sequence is also extremely interesting, as it is projecting his thoughts about the entire situation into view for the audience to see. Placing his son’s head in place of the tied sheep’s head while a dagger strikes down symbolizes Titus’ belief in his son’s scapegoat status (a sacrificial lamb) for the people.

  2. Oscar C says:

    I have to give Julie Taymor a lot of credit for her work. She is never afraid to risk everything for a production. She might fail sometimes, but she never holds her vision back. In this excerpt of Titus Mrs. Taymor adds in the people walking by as Titus calls out but no one listens. Nobody even recognizes his presence, which only adds to his madness. I really liked on the last shot where all of the characters are facing different pathways which is symbolic because each character has come from a different road to arrive at this moment.

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    Taymor, Julie | Productions
    Italy, United Kingdom, United States
    Fox Searchlight/Clear Blue Sky Production
    View productions by this company

    I Tell My Sorrows to the Stones

    Note: A clip from the movie Titus by Julie Taymor based on Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus.

    SCENE I. Rome. A street.


    Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay!
    For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
    In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept;
    For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed;
    For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd;
    And for these bitter tears, which now you see
    Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks;
    Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
    Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought.
    For two and twenty sons I never wept,
    Because they died in honour's lofty bed.

    For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write
    My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears:
    Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite;
    My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush.
    O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
    That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
    Than youthful April shall with all his showers:
    In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still;
    In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow
    And keep eternal spring-time on thy face,
    So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood.

    Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn

    O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men!
    Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death;
    And let me say, that never wept before,
    My tears are now prevailing orators.