Easily Shakespeare's most bloody and deliciously twisted play, Titus Andronicus foreshadows the playwright's greatest works, offering up a shadow world to the later, more complex universes of Macbeth, Othello, Richard III and King Lear. In the hands of uber-theatre director Julie Taymor, Shakespeare's first outing takes on rich dimension as the film Titus, drawing us into a world where vengeance and violence power the human soul.

Taymor has won a much deserved foothold on the modern stage, having brought fantastical inventiveness to her productions and winning a Tony as best director for The Lion King on Broadway. Now that she has tackled film, it's apparent that Taymor needs two things. First, a bit more time to learn the finer points of the medium and, second, more money. It's not that Taymor is a bad director, far from it. Her visual style is staggering to behold, as is her command of the theatrical space and the actors who fill it. It's just that she sometimes seems bored with certain scenes, often those that are most important plot-wise but not necessarily as visually interesting. She also seems to have been on a budget -- spending money on particular set pieces while leaving others noticeably empty. A little more cash might have allowed her to infuse every scene with the magnetism that the more spectacular sequences possess and offer up a final product that felt more balanced visually.

Still, Taymor's adaptation stays faithful to the original play, while infusing it with plenty of shocking extra staging -- a choreographed soldiers' "ballet" in the opening, a few gorgeously debauched orgies (recalling Greenaway's Prospero's Books or Caligula) as well as a number of not-entirely successful fantasy sequences. Titus is a classic tale of revenge, inspired -- oddly enough -- by a passionate love for one's children. It begins when Titus Andronicus, famed Roman general, returns home as conqueror of the Goths, whose queen Tamora (Jessica Lange) and her sons are his prisoners. Tamora swears vengeance against Titus when he sacrifices her oldest son in a military ritual.

In thanks for his protection of Rome -- and upon the "timely" death of Caesar -- Titus is offered the throne by his brother -- everyone is related in Shakespeare --Marcus Andronicus (Colm Feore), but he turns it down, suggesting it go to the emperor's son Saturninus (Alan Cumming). Now pay attention, it gets complicated for a bit here. Saturninus decides he wants to wed Titus' daughter Lavinia (Laura Fraser), who is betrothed to his brother Bassianus (James Frain). Lavinia and Bassianus flee with the help of Titus's four sons, including Lucius (Angus MacFayden). Not to be embarrassed, Saturninus chooses Tamora for his queen and thus the witch of the Goths ends up right where she wants to be -- in the seat of power.

Take a breath and -- here we go again. Tamora tells Saturninus to forgive Lavinia and Bassianus, then allows her Moorish lover Aaron (Harry Lennix) to instruct her sons Demetrius (Matthew Rhys) and Chiron (Johnathan Rhys Myers) in the lovers' ruin. The boys murder Bassianus and then rape Lavinia, gleefully cutting out her tongue and chopping off her hands, replacing them with spindly twigs. Rarely has there been a more memorable image than Lavinia's woeful form, cast upon a wooden stump, blowing in the wind.

In one of his many Iago-esque machinations, Aaron then frames Titus' sons for Bassianus' murder and the young men are executed. Could it get gorier than this? You bet. Titus of course vows revenge against Tamora and her sons when he finds out about this hideous deceit. He manages to take in Chiron and Demetrius, promptly cuts their throats and serves them up in a meat pie to Tamora and Saturninus. I want to say "yuck," but it's all too wickedly delicious. Sweeney Todd would be proud. And then, the climactic moment -- Titus first kills Lavinia (out of pity for her), then kills Tamora, leading Saturninus to kill him and Lucius to kill Saturninus. Modern soap operas got nothing on old Bill.

It's easy to transpose these characters into Shakespeare's other plays. Titus becomes Lear to Tamora's Lady Macbeth to Aaron's Iago or Richard III. Lange is sensual and suitably wicked as Tamora, providing a perfect foil to Alan Cumming's exquisitely base, dandified performance as Saturninus. Harry Lennix especially emerges as a villain beyond all villainy, realizing Aaron with contained rage and nobility. In the end, as he is being buried up to his neck, he stoically intones: "If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul." Sadly, Anthony Hopkins is the weakest link in the cast, offering up a noble but not particularly textured Titus.

Despite some beginner's bobbles, Taymor still shows herself to be a director firmly in control of her material, material that she reshapes to her own ends creating an expose of Fascism, racism and social violence. Best of all, she shows the world that a female director can really go balls to the wall. A word of caution here. Proceed into the theater expecting to be overwhelmed and, if you're a purist, you may be offended. (Tough.) As you might have guessed, Taymor breaks all the rules in this production, mixing 30's Fascism with Roman ruins, leather and lace with ancient armor, gladiator's chariots with motorcycles and T-Birds. This is surely an assault on the senses but much less so than Baz Luhrmann's over-the-top Romeo and Juliet.

In the end, the film works because the story works, and the story works because the ills of our world -- hatred, prejudice and evil -- span every century.