Julie Taymor's Titus once again has my attention for the possibility of being the greatest film ever even as I wonder at the possibility that Shakespeare's words linger on the very edge of our comprehension. I watch and think how many of our tribe have taken to heart the lessons of such treachery and revenge.
There is a scene in which Titus stands, kneels and then falls face flat at the crossroads, and as the words flow I think that this might be our very own Petreaus' future.
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.
OF course I would not think there are those capable of such direct duplicity within our myriad and crisscrossing hall of power. But certainly such desires would be made manifest if it were possible.