Yes, you've read the play. Yes, you've seen the movie (or two or three of them, even). Romeo & Juliet was designed for the stage, however, and until you see it performed in front of you, you haven't felt what Shakespeare intended you to feel.
The Tufts Department of Drama and Dance's production of Romeo & Juliet, however, may not give you the full feeling you're looking for, either. Artist-in-Residence Anthony Cornish directs a traditional version of the tragedy in the Balch Arena Theater that fails to impress not by a missing artistic vision, but through imperfect performances and lackluster stage mechanics.
Most people consider Romeo & Juliet a tragedy, but Cornish plays up the show's comedic aspects for the first act. There is plenty of bawdy banter, be it between the nurse and Juliet, Juliet and Romeo, or Romeo and, well, more or less everybody. By the second act, however, this carefree air gives way as compounded plots and consequences begin to fall upon the two lovers. This may make the second act far less enjoyable than the first, but it is done exactly as the play was written, exactly as it should be.
Freshman David Greene seems the archetypical Romeo, at least in physical presence - his loose hair and slightly sarcastic smile give him the fitting, romantic air of a rascal. His performance is charming, though without surprises. Those familiar with Baz Luhrmann's 1996 film William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet will find many points of resonance. Greene doesn't break into anything new, but there are some fine moments. When Romeo tries to avoid fighting with Tybalt - his new cousin-by-marriage - it seems the bravest thing he could do.
Much of the same goes for Nicole Frattaroli as Juliet. She is an innocent, a girl among women. She is the only female with her hair free and her skirt un-bustled, and her Juliet recalls Claire Danes' performance in that same film. Unfortunately, Frattaroli lacks much of the emotional variation necessary to her role. When Juliet's nurse (Melissa Holman) tells her to forget Romeo and let herself be won over by Paris, Juliet's monologue should explode with rage and betrayal the instant the nurse departs; Frattaroli, however, continues reading lines in the same helpless, breathless manner as before. When she does turn up the emotion as the play continues, it is marked more by heavy breathing and a sharp increase in volume than a sense of real feeling.
The two most appropriate and consistent characters are, sadly, the very two which are murdered within the first act, Tybalt (Charlie Semine) and Mercutio (Gio Gaynor). Semine's Tybalt is irrepressible in his ire, turned aside by no one and nothing as he pursues Romeo for what he sees as a dire insult. Gaynor, on the other hand, gives Mercutio a flamboyant turn; the audience chuckles along as Romeo and Benvolio (Deane Madsen) sit down to listen to his fantastic rants.
Some actors take on two or more parts, which seems unnecessary even for the small roles involved; it only serves to break the audience from the scene with a reminder that this is only a performance. Others seem somewhat miscast, or perhaps just poorly made up - Chris Tadros seems a bit young as Montague, which is strange since he appeared much older in last year's The Merry Wives of Windsor and The Love Course. Other characters fall down a bit, due at turns to a lack or excess of character or energy. Holman's portrayal of the nurse is disappointing for someone who is so inherently funny - she gives her lines as much tweak as she can, but there doesn't seem much character behind it as support.
On the other end is Jesse Levey as Capulet. His angry flailing and polar moods recall his performance last fall as Mr. Ford in Cornish's The Merry Wives of Windsor. Such an attitude, unfortunately, is much better suited to the comedic role he took there than to the often tragic flavor of Romeo & Juliet.
Many of the characters have their prettier moments as well. The swordfights are well executed, especially for a student cast without stage combat training.
But by the end of this three-hour show, the flaws mount up. The mechanical aspects of the show prove problematic, most notably in the absent set and the at-times awkward scene placement. Romeo & Juliet is this fall's department production and as such receives a much larger budget and grander creative license than any student-produced show. This support, however, is undetectable onstage.
There are clever moments with the set, but each of these is all too evident to the audience from the beginning. The balcony scene - always the keystone of the play - makes use of a simple curtain above the existing stairs and railings in the arena's seating area. Clever, yes, but not quite up to the production quality expected from a fall department show. Moreover, it forces half of the arena's audience members to crane their necks while deciding whether to watch Romeo on the ground or Juliet on the balcony. There may be something admirable in a minimalist production, but it is an attitude unsuited to such a well-financed show - especially when the ornately costumed actors move about on an empty stage.
Juliet's bed is the show's only set piece besides Friar Laurence's wooden stool, and its ambition belies the artistic mode of zero-scenery staging. At the foot lies a trap door, here the curiously relocated "balcony," through which Romeo will escape after his tryst with Juliet. This trap door, visible only to half the audience, waits anxiously for someone to roll off the bed and into it. This draws attention away from the actors on the bed by making the audience members - at least those who could see it - wonder why someone would put a bed so close to the perilous edge of the balcony.
The bed itself has long, billowing drapes surrounding it that connect to the arena's ceiling, making the lovers' first and only rendezvous there a romantic moment (particularly since the audience has already waited over two hours for it). These drapes, however, prove an onstage stumbling block: when Romeo and Juliet stand up beside the bed, half the audience in the arena cannot see the actors past the curtains.
Juliet's bed transforms into her funeral slab in a set twist that would be clever if it were not somewhat evident from the bed's first appearance - one can see the stone-painted wood beneath the thin drapes and sheets. It remains effective, however, that her lifeless body then overlooks the remainder of the scenes. When Romeo receives the messenger with the news of Juliet's apparent death, the audience sees his grief directed at her body, even though she is actually many miles away. The flexing, unsupported plywood of the arena floor and even various backstage noises further detract from the play's effectiveness.
This is not to say the inanimate aspects of the production are without charm. With no sets involved, the lighting design, coupled with occasional transitional music, indicates every scene change. It does so effectively, making Juliet's bedroom warm with the sun and the Capulet's tomb cold and gloomy. The costumes are rich with ruffles and trim, though one does begin to wonder why no one but Juliet seems to change their clothes.
There is nothing wholly wrong with Cornish's imagining of Romeo & Juliet. He takes no inappropriate liberties, successfully playing up the comedic and sexual aspects of the play that are often lost on high-schoolers stuck in ninth grade English. On the serious performances and the staging, however, the show stumbles, and therein lurks its downfall. A more ambitious vision with so-so acting or an equally standard vision with exceptional performances would both be preferable to this traditional version that falls short of its mark.
Romeo & Juliet will continue Nov. 1-3 at 8 p.m., with an additional matinee performance Nov. 3 at 2 p.m. Tickets are $1 for Nov. 1 and are $10 for all other performances ($6 for senior citizens, $5 with valid Tufts ID). Contact the box office at (617) 627-3493 for more information.
