The Tragedy of Julius Caesar might well be counted as one of William Shakespeare’s most engaging works, as the audience and the players are transported to a rapidly deteriorating world, where a real threat of society-shaking violence exists, the common good stands on the brink of disintegration, and feats of oratory might bring honour or destruction to Rome.
Admittedly, the audience is not directly interpellated in Shakespeare’s lines, nor are the dramatis personae self-aware of their fictitiousness. Still, although the fourth wall might not be broken, it is perhaps moved back well beyond the last row of the audience. We do not simply watch the play unfold as outsiders, but are absorbed into the orators’ sphere of influence. As Cassius speaks about the state of Rome, and the need for action, we are drawn into the circle of co-conspirators; as Brutus and Antony pitch their causes to the gathered people of Rome, we might well murmur appreciatively, our political allegiances swayed. Even if the audience is not directly included in the physical action of the play, we are most certainly subject to the same intellectual and affective stirrings as the staged citizenry of Rome.
Under Amanda Kellock’s direction, the cast of Julius Caesar further blurs the line between the audience and the Romans on stage. This is largely achieved through the calls of the plebs, who, as a general rabble, shout and chant, often inciting the audience to join in. Beyond simply encouraging the audience to shout out “Caesar” or “Brutus”, the plebs occupy a liminal space, encircling the stage on ground level, sharing the same plane as the audience. Similarly, the entrances and exits of the players extend the imagined space of the play’s action beyond the physical limits of the stage proper. Players take to the stage either from a central entrance upstage, or from alleys that extend into the audience. With the latter, the audience is encouraged to look about, and led to feel as though they are quite literally in the middle of the action. Part of this expansion of the stage is in fact included in the plays stage directions: the crowds cheering offstage when Caesar is offered the crown; Messala’s galloping exit to ride across the plains of Philippii, and Titinius’ sortie into Cassiius’ camp. This last is particularly compelling as Pindarus reports, in real-time, what appears to befall Titinius – as Cassius receives the report, so too does the audience…
In large part, the excitement of Julius Caesar comes from the blurring of the distinction between the characters, who serve as the direct audience of oration on stage, and the theatre-going audience, who are privy to the same speeches, and are enjoined to feel themselves included within the play’s action. Julius Caesar is moving not just for its narrative of power and empire, nor just for its combat and raging action, but thanks to its neatly including the audience in the play. As the audience is increasingly drawn into the play, the complexity of the drama unfolds itself. As the people of Rome are first courted by one faction, then another, the audience is similarly tempted to declare political affiliation. However, as much as we may wish to choose a side, as audience members we ultimately benefit from a profoundly cathartic separation: while we can engage in an intellectual or philosophical kinship, we needn’t fear the violent physical consequences that Julius Caesar’s Romans must bear.