It’s taken me five days to get my head around Titus Andronicus at The Globe.

“Brutality of the highest order”

…was promised in Lucy Bailey’s Bankside production.

I’m not easily shocked, motherfuckers.

Bring it on, was my mantra as I cycled off to the Wooden O early on Saturday evening.

Four hours later and I was left gasping, tearful and awoken as to how live theatre can pull apart your hidden emotions. Titus Andronicus is as rapturous as it is tragic.

I roared with delight come the close, along with the other Globe Groundlings. I haven’t heard this guttural tribal show of appreciation down at Bankside in over fifteen years since the re-birth of the Globe.

I’m not sure if we were applauding the absolute bravery of what we had just seen performed, or simply releasing three hours of cathartic tension that was clearly too much for some of the audience who walked out early.

Which was a shame.

Once you have witnessed the ability to inflict torturous pain on others with no morals, it surprisingly becomes a humane experience.

Seeing a young girl being raped, and then having her hands and tongue cut off is not going to leave you cold. It draws you collectively together with others - on and off the stage - in search of a response.

The guttural roar of celebration come the close of Titus Andronicus is a reminder that humanity exists and we’re all the better for it.

Blimey.

This was my first visit of the new Globe season, which has been given the title of Arms and the Man. I don’t think that the arms were a reference to the many body mutilations that follow.

I’m not sure why both groundlings and the posh seats were kept out of The Globe so close to the start of the performance. Queues stretched around the theatre, adding a sense of suspense.

Once inside and you are faced with the smell of a bad BBQ and what looks like a Jacobean Ultravox video. Smoke rises from the pit, not quite being released to the Thames air as a tarpaulin covers the open roof, adding to the darkness that is about to follow.

The groundlings are at the centre of the action. The play starts with what appears to be a Roman incarnation of the Dulwich Hamlet Rabble; boisterous, colourful and clearly drunk. The triumphant army of Titus returns to the city, pushing aside anyone that gets in their way.

“MOVE!!”

…was the instruction that the groundlings were given as a couple of scaffolding towers are wheeled around to elevate the actors.

I didn’t like to argue, not over a £5 ticket anyway.

My early thoughts were that a lot of spitting is taking place on stage - hardly brutality. This was going to be a breeze, greenies or no greenies.

Joyful slapstick characterises the opening half hour or so. Forgiveness, post-war celebrations and even playful partner swapping can been seen.

All’s well that ends well?

If you go down to the woods today…

BLOODY OUCH!

The hunting scene is where it all kicks off. Humans are hunted instead of animals. Poor Lavinia is savaged.

Flora Spencer-Longhurst exchanges her natural beauty for the most grotesque silent few minutes, as she emerges raped, unable to tell her story with her tongue being cut off and no hands to point to her accusers.

It is the most ugly scene that I have witnessed, both on and off stage.

The character shakes impulsively. There’s nothing left within. A beautiful young girl is reduced to flesh and flesh alone.

The beauty of this play though is that recovery is at hand, pardon the pun. It takes some time, and before revenge is served up we get to witness a double beheading, cannibalism and another female actor having a sword thrust up her lady parts from behind.

I doubt if the excellent Globe Education are going big on Titus this summer.

All throughout this destruction and the acting is superb. There is no empathy - this is personal and you want revenge.

I attempted to tweet the death toll as Titus was played out - partly as a reminder to myself as to what I was witnessing, partly to try and take away the intensity of what I was becoming caught up in.

I ended up having a rare moment of self-censorship.

In the end it is the classic Land Man Standing that wins.

And humanity.

I’m not giving away spoilers when I say there is no happy ending, but at least the most brutal of the slayers don’t get to receive a standing ovation - not in character, anyway.

The traditional Globe Jacobean jig come the close of the play hasn’t been met with such delight. No one was physically harmed during this production.

Mentally?

Mmmm.

Wibble, wobble.

Deviant, disturbing and a bloody mind fuck. Everything @The_Globe should be. Never heard Bankside crowd roar like that at the end. SEE IT.

— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) April 26, 2014