Jad Abumrad

In Titus Andronicus, there's a character by the name of Aaron the Moor.

There's a moment in the play where Aaron gets up on stage, looks at the audience and says, let me just tell you the kinds of things I've been up to recently.

Set deadly enmity between two friends.

Make poor men's cattle break their necks.

Set fire on barns and haystacks in the night and bid the owners quench them with their tears.

Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves and set them upright at their dear friend's door.

Even when their sorrows almost were forgot, and on their skins as on the bark of trees, have with my life, with my knife, carved in Roman letters, let not your sorrows die, though I am dead.

So he's bad.

Yeah, but see, here's the interesting thing.

According to James, he's not the baddest in Shakespeare or in life because ultimately the play offers up a reason for his nastiness.

The reason why he's telling all this stuff is because he has cut a deal.

They will spare his son if he fesses up and tells them what they need to know.

So there's a way in which there's a touch, a spark of humanity.

Just a little glimmer.

And he says, that's what people wanted.

They wanted someone who was really thrillingly bad, but in the end was redeemed a bit.

Yeah.

This wasn't just a theater thing.

No, because if you couldn't afford a ticket for a play, you'd seen all the plays.

In the 1500s, you could always go to a public hanging.