DonMar’s Julius

Caesar by DonMar
production of Julius
Caesar on Digital
Theatre

DonMar’s Julius Caesar

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Honor Pledge

Abstract
On the streets of ancient Rome, Flavius and Marullus, two Roman tribunes—the judges

intended to protect the interests of the people—accost a community of workers, asking them

to name their trades and justify their lack of employment. The first worker replies straight

forward, but the second worker answers with a spirited string that he is a cobbler and that he

and his fellow workers have come together to see Caesar and rejoice in his victory over

Pompey. Marullus accuses the workers of forgetting that they are profaning the great Pompey,

whose triumphs they applauded so vigorously. He rebukes them for failing to worship the man

who celebrates victory in the war over the sons of Pompey, and orders them to return to their

homes to seek Gods' forgiveness for their hostile ingratitude. Flavius commands them to gather

all the commoners they can, and to carry them to the banks of the Tiber, and to fill them with

their tears of sorrow for the dishonor that Pompey has displayed.
Introduction

Julius Caesar is a play about power and power loss; it's about fear and mistrust, a creeping lack

of confidence, regime change, political conviction, independence, honor and a way of life. It's

all about greed, ambition, and murder. It's a question of men fighting for what they believe in,

or what they want. It's about men committing abuse to a greater good. It's about the men in

charge. Most of the characters in JULIUS CAESAR were soldiers; they have a history of crime.

They've all been killers in battle, and they're living in a really patriarchal society. So, the setting

is trying to close the distance between the viewer and the actors.

It seems to me that there is no doubt that women commit fewer violent crimes

than men do. This means that women are generally less violent than men, or that violence is a

result of something separate in men and women. I assume, and I am not the first person to say

this, that men resort to violence as a means of taking control and asserting dominance over

each other, and that women resort to violence as a result of a lack of control. This is a challenge

if you're playing a game like JULIUS CAESAR, since these are a group of women who are

planning a cold-blooded murder. So, we wanted to find the way in which this group of actresses

had to get into to close the distance between themselves and the conspirators. As it turned out,

though, it wasn't as hard as we thought it would be for the actors to picture themselves in a

state of revenge, rage, and fear that would lead them to kill. I think one of the amazing things

about theatre is that it asks us to accept that the acts of Jenny Jules with members of the

company that we may think are unbelievably far from our own impulses and characters

suddenly seem very plausible when you alter a few things about the circumstances of your life.

Most of the people who live in a free society, who have enough to eat and enough to drink, and
a good, comfortable home, would think that killing someone is impossible. But if you thought

that someone was coming to take away your house, or your property, or you didn't have

enough to eat, or enough for your children, it's all of a sudden easier to imagine that one could

be capable of murder.

I don't think we should get carried away and start arguing that Shakespeare's single sex is the

only way forward. But, like Mark Antony, Phyllida Lloyd is a "little contriver;" and her all-female

production of Julius Caesar is witty, liberating and imaginative, and taps into the anti-

authoritarian instinct of play.

Lloyd's idea is clear: we are watching a group of Bolshevik women prisoners put on their version

of Shakespeare's analysis of political assassination. And the effect is a bit like Peter Weiss's

Marat/Sade, in that we're constantly conscious of how the drama is influenced by the

institutional environment. The evening begins with prisoners lined up in their drab, grey

uniforms.

When the play threatens to get out of control, as with the poet's anarchic killing of Cinna, the

guards act hastily. And, having disposed of one kind of dictatorial authority through the

imitation murder of Frances Barber's Caesar, the inmates notice that Barber is turning into a

female bullfighter. It's as if the battle against unbridled power is never over.

The moral of the story is that arrogance can lead to death.

Julius Caesar died because he was an arrogant man. Arrogance is more than a strong opinion of

yourself. It means you value your opinion above everyone else's. Caesar was assassinated by

Cassius and Brutus because he was greedy and ambitious. Caesar's arrogance was the source of
his ambition. He didn't give a damn what other people think of him. Caesar remained Caesar.

For example, he ignored all of the warnings that his life was in danger. Caesar knew better.

Caesar's reaction to the conspirators' suit over Metellus Cimber's brother reveals his arrogance.

Caesar should have known the men were planning something. They surrounded him and

pleaded with him, but he was unconcerned. His reaction is egotistical to the extreme.

The danger in this interpretation is that it means Shakespeare's Caesar is a

simple hate-figure, and the conspirators are well-intentioned freedom fighters. Lloyd, on the

other hand, defies such simplification in a number of ways. One way is to demonstrate how

Shakespeare's play serves as a powerful metaphor for the inmates' pent-up frustration. Another

way is to show how easily allegiances change in jail and in society. The Forum scenes are

particularly brilliantly staged: at one point, the fickle mob fawns on Brutus, who is quickly

swallowed up by the adoring crowd, only to be replaced by Mark Antony, who is greeted first

with arms, then with approving murmurs as his speech is avidly watched on TV monitors.

It's one thing to come up with a brilliant idea; it's quite another to put it into

action. And Lloyd's output demonstrates that typically male roles can be given new life by

female actors. Harriet Walter's Brutus is a shining example. In recent years, Brutus has been

replaced as the noblest Roman of all by a hopelessly bungling tactician. That is still present in

Walter's reading, as she places Cassius loftily in his place on the eve of war. But Walter, who

cuts a striking figure with her sleek-backed hair and cavernous lips, offers us a Brutus who

appears to be riven with internal torment. Walter, who can bend the verse to her will,

resembles a Roman Hamlet torn between action and inaction.

Brutus' errors, as shown by her failure to seize Mark Antony's hand after Caesar's death. Cush

Jumbo enjoys Mark Antony's slick rhetoric while also emphasizing the character's inherent

arrogance. As a breastfeeding, self-mutilating Portia and a casually brutal Octavius Caesar, Clare

Dunne makes a striking double.

This is not to suggest that I approve of the entire production. Some

things go too far, including Caesar's physical abuse of Cassius by stuffing a doughnut into his

mouth. And the production lacks Gregory Doran's recent post-colonial Africa version's rich

political resonance. However, the use of heavy metal music to invoke military confrontation is

excellent, the stripped-down stage is cleverly used, and, most importantly, the production feels

profoundly motivated: you get the feeling that these incarcerated women are driven to present

a play that deals with aggression, conflict, and the desire to overthrow some kind of imposed

authority.

Conclusion

Augustus had tremendous military and political success by governing behind the scenes and

preserving the Republic's image, while Caesar failed by blatantly attempting to abolish the

Republic and centralize power while ignoring Mos Maiorum. Both Augustus and Caesar were

fantastic rulers in their own right. What distinguished the two was the manner in which they

were carried out. Senators and Romans reacted angrily to Caesar's declaration of dictatorship.

Augustus, however, did not. He established a standing army, which aided him in exerting

pressure on and controlling Roman politics without appearing to be a military dictator. Caesar
attempted to destabilize the Republic. Augustus used Caesar's failure as an example,

manipulating his own actions to achieve the same results as Caesar. He overthrew the Republic

of Rome and founded an empire in its place. He set the stage with the Proscriptions, which

enabled him to rid Rome of political rivals while pardoning and appeasing his opponents.

Caesar was beloved by both the military and the common people, but his ruthless dictatorial

approach to power led to his downfall and assassination. Augustus's hands-off, behind-the-

scenes approach to power resulted in a boost in his popularity, admiration, and adoration from

the populace. Despite the fact that these factors contributed to one's failure and the other's

success, both Caesar and Augustus were instrumental in the dismantling of the republic and the

creation of the Roman empire.

Works Cited
Julius Caesar (trans. Gardner & Hanford), The Conquest of Gaul, (1984).
Julius Caesar, The Civil War, (1976).
Perry, Martha, and James E. Vickers. CliffsNotes on Julius Caesar. 09 Mar 2021
Alan Massie, Caesar: a novel, (1994).
C. T. Onions and Robert D. Eagleson, A Shakespeare Glossary (1986)
The Corston Report: A Report by Baroness Jean Cors