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Show: Romeo and Juliet
Society: London (professional shows)
Venue: Almeida Theatre, London N1 1TA
Credits: William Shakespeare. Directed by Rebecca Frecknall
Type: Sardines
Author: John London
Performance Date: 16/06/2023
Romeo and Juliet
John London | 16 Jun 2023 22:21pm
Photo: Mark Brenner
In the beginning was the wall. And the people placed their hands on the wall. And writing appeared on the wall.
There’s a solemn grandeur to the start of Rebecca Frecknall’s production. Especially when the writing comprises projected quotations from the Prologue of Shakespeare’s play and the cast then push the wall down so it falls flat on the stage. But there’s also a sense that this is an inevitable ritual, as we all know ‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life’ (and the writing is on the wall). As if to add to this self-consciously doomed spectacle, the actors stay on stage for much of the time when they have no scenes, lying on the floor or sitting discreetly on the sides. Every so often comes Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights music from his Romeo and Juliet ballet (again, and again, and again), although it is choreographed for the company as if it were Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring.
Yet this ‘lamentable tragedy’ at the Almeida is far from totally predictable. The rivalry, surprises, chances, and violence are here. Despite the bare set, it’s a rich production, full of mockery, brawling, and intimacy outside (on the streets) and inside homes. Lighting (by Lee Curran) elegantly creates both space and atmosphere.
Of course, it all depends on whether or not you’re ready to sit through two hours without an interval of Montagues vs Capulets without feeling nostalgic for West Side Story. One advantage of submitting to the ordeal in a sweaty Islington summer is that it allows you to settle down and appreciate the subtleties and sheer inventiveness in the best interpretation of the play in years. The fights are tense, with the odd jack-in-the-box (look out for how Romeo kills Tybalt). Frecknall is expert at interrupting and overlapping scenes, with never an awkward pause. She urges the physicalization of the dialogue. The prize for king of the comedy goes to Jack Riddiford’s Mercutio, exploiting every pun, embodying lines, jumping about in bawdy enjoyment of the life his words provide (the ‘Prick love for pricking’ speech is a gem). He even acts the queer when Romeo and his buddies get close.
What stands out from the whole is the way in which this is as much a play about an older generation as it is about passionate youth. Exemplary is Jamie Ballard’s Capulet, as he chides his daughter at the end of the third act, threatening all to make her marry Paris (‘Beg! Starve! Die in the streets!’). With the help of some judicious cutting, Ballard spits his part, clearly and at high volume, barely controlling his anger, smashing his hand on the floor. You may not agree with him, but you have to admire his performance.
What, though, of the ill-fated couple? Toheeb Jimoh’s Romeo is likeable enough and has moments of intensity, but he is not totally articulate when he shouts. It is also possible that the colour-blind casting creates more meaning than is subsequently coherent. And are his clothes clubbing or stylishly casual? Juliet’s Isis Hainsworth is wonderfully two-faced, at once the school girl and the besotten lover. As to the ultimate dignity of their plight, everything hinges on the final scene. Lit by myriad candles, many on the walls, Romeo takes his poison. Juliet searches desperately for some means of following his demise, then finds the dagger and, after much hesitation, does the deed. She wails, groans, moans, screams, perhaps reaches a climax, then is gone. Faced by such exaggeration, you want the calmer mourning, regret, and reconciliation of Shakespeare’s closing words. But all we get is silence. The actors come to the edge of the stage. Then comes the thunderous applause.