"Romeo and Juliet" at the Richard Rodgers Theatre
The two
modern interpretations of William Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet—” that is,
versions that set the timeless love story in modern times—that spring most
easily to mind when prompted are “West Side Story,” the 1951
Laurents/Bernstein/Sondheim musical, and, for a less cultured audience, Baz
Luhrmann’s 1996 film, “Romeo + Juliet.”
The first was itself a classic, perhaps impacting modern society to a similar degree as the original play did to Shakespeare’s, and will live on in
memory as among the five or six greatest musicals of all time. The second was a relative misfire, the text
remaining generally intact but plot details carelessly rummaged with and religious
imagery seemingly force-fed to the audience for little or no reason. It goes without saying that any producer
would be lucky to replicate the success of “West Side Story,” which is why so
many Shakespeare plays have landed on Broadway transplanted from their native
settings, but the risk is there that, rather than being a reinvigorating
reinvention, the result might just seem silly.
The latest
to challenge these odds is a new Broadway revival of “Romeo and Juliet” (the
last since 1977), directed by David Leveaux (2003’s revival of “Nine”). At first glance, this version seems to verge
on ridiculous, plagued by the same excesses that trouble any transformation of
a Shakespeare play into a modern epic—that is, the fact that that man’s words
and our times simply don’t match, leaving only the option to heap on the modern
until the classic chokes under its weight.
The stark, nearly empty stage is peremptorily infringed upon by set
pieces which seem to have no reason to exist—an oxidized bell that hangs over
the stage throughout but is only rung once, and then only for a few seconds; long,
thin burners that release seemingly inopportune jets of fire at insignificant
moments in the play; sand spilling onstage from the wings (why?). Romeo’s entrance only reinforces this
impression. When the handsome Montague,
played by Orlando Bloom in his stage debut, rockets onstage (oh, how the
audience swooned!), it’s on a fully loaded motorcycle that squeals, roars, and
puffs carbon monoxide up into the Richard Rodgers Theatre. (While others watched the dreamy Bloom shake
his hair from his helmet, I wondered if this was entirely legal.) And that’s not all—Montagues and Capulets
fight by whipping chains at each other; the Capulet ball is now a strange cross
between a rave and an African drum circle; Friar Lawrence is a barefoot hippie
in a sweatshirt—just listing these things is exhausting.
But,
surprisingly—and this is the key word, for I am, indeed, hugely surprised by
what I am about to tell you—I enjoyed this production immensely. Who can say why this guilty pleasure was so
much more pleasurable than guilty? It
could be that Condola Rashad, fresh off a Tony nomination for her role in “A
Trip to Bountiful,” plays Juliet with a kind of excited wonder to which more
recent, dour actresses haven’t come close.
It could be Corey Hawkins as a poetic Tybalt, Conrad Kemp as a lively
Benvolio that, strangely brings to mind Mark Cohen from “Rent,” the
indefatigable Chuck Cooper as a Lord Capulet who goes from jolly to terrifying
in seconds flat, or it could even—sigh—be Orlando Bloom, who, save for a few
line flubs, wasn’t really so bad after all.
(His
chemistry with Ms. Rashad left a little to be desired, though—their kisses were
so long they felt almost like parodies of themselves.) But maybe it would be easier to attribute the success of the new “Romeo
and Juliet,” more generally, to its brilliant, biracial cast.
For, as in “West
Side Story,” the Montagues and Capulets are divided by race—the Montagues
Caucasian, the Capulets African-American—but one of the great things about this
cast is that they don’t let the director’s conceits overwhelm what’s of true
importance—the story. Sure, the “race
war” aspect implies some underlying issues in our culture, and “Romeo and
Juliet” in modern times has proven successful before. But the fact is, William Shakespeare wrote
the best version of this play ever produced more than 515 years ago. The closer a performance gets to that version,
the better it is. Simple as that.
